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BRITISH SONG BIRDS.

Digitized by the Internet Archive
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University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

http://www.archive.org/details/britishsongbirdsOOwood

BRITISH SONG BIRDS;

BEING

POPULAR DESCRIPTIONS

AND

ANECDOTES
OF THE

CHORISTERS OF THE GROVES.

By NEVILLE WOOD, Esa.
AUTHOR OF THE
ORNITHOLOGIST’S TEXT-BOOK.

LONDON:
JOHN W. PARKER, WEST STRAND.

MDCCCXXXVI.

LONDON:
LEIGHTON AND MuRPHY, PRINTERS,

Johnson’s Court, Fleet Street.

TO
EDWARD BLYTH,
OF
TOOTING, SURREY,
FOR HIS WELL-KNOWN TALENTS AS
AN ORNITHOLOGIST,
AND AS A TESTIMONY OF REGARD,
This Volume
iS INS\C BRIBED,

BY HIS SINCERE FRIEND,

THE AUTHOR.

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Chreyiole, 24 Sep 41 Obssrlrolder,

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CONTENTS.

MissEL TurusH, Turdus viscivorus, WILL... ....ceeesees
FIELDFARE THRuSH, Turdus pilaris, WILL. ........--- :
GaRDEN TurusH, Twrdus hortensis, C. T. Woop .....+0-
Repwine THrusH, Turdus Iliacus, WILL. .....+ sicmiere:
GARDEN OUZEL, Merula vulgaris, WILL...........e-008
ming Ouzet, Merula torquata, WILL. .6..22.esececrease
Fattow Cuat, Sazicola enanthe, BECHST. ..........06--
Wuiw Caat, Sazicola rubetra, BECHST..... ho siaensicunrane ofa
Stone CuHat, Sazicola rubicola, BECHST. ........-. ease
Rosin RepsrReEASt, Rubecula familiaris, BuytTH...... Solsts
Tree Repstrart, Phenicura albifrons, BLYTH ........0

Tituys REDstTarRT, Phenicura Tithys, JARD. and SELBY .

BLvuETHROATED FantaiL, Pandicilla Suecica, BLYTH....
Srp1tous BrakEHoPPER, Locustella sibilatrix, C. T. Woop
SEDGE REEDLING, Salicaria phragmitis, SELBY ....62..0
Marsh REEDLING, Salicaria arundinacea, SELBY .......+.
Brake NicgHTineGate, Philomela luscinia, Swans. ......-
Briacxceart Fauvet, Ficedula atricapilla, BLyTH........
GaRDEN Faouvet, Ficedula hortensis, BLYTH...........+
WHitTETHROATED Fauvet?, Ficedula cinerea, BLYTH ....
GarruLous Fauvet, Ficedula garrula, BLYTH...........
REDEYED WHINLING, Melizophilus provincialis, Leacu ..
HEDGE WarBLER, Sylvia logquax, HERB. ................ -
Woop WarBLER, Sylvia sibilatrixz, BECHST....... ABE BAS
Wittow WarBLER, Sylvia melodia, BLYTH.......-.6....

GoLpDcRESTED KINGLET, Regulus auricapillus, SELBY....
FIRECRESTED KINGLET, Regulus ignicapillus, MuDIE....
Ivy WREN, Anorthura troglodytes, MORRIS ....40...++0+5
GaRDEN Tit, Parus hortensis, C. T. Woop..........06. :
eee eear, Pars cwruleus,. WiiLLs. «5.0.5 ccs meiesee ceva cid
amen Cir, Parus palustris, GESN. ....006004660s60e-c008
Pere ETT.» Paris afer, GESN« ««. 5 sic vee vcs ote dae eee

MONGTAILED, Tit, Parus caudatus, WILL. .... i... oeus
CRESTED Tit, Parus cristatus, ALDROV. .....22..00e080

vill CONTENTS.

BearDED Pinnock, Calamophilus biarmicus, LEacu......
Hepct Dunnock, Aceentor modularis, Cuv.......... Sarkce
ALPINE ANNET, Curruca collaris, C.T. Woop .... hey ae
Prep WaeratiL, Motacilla maculosa, C.T. Woop ...... Be
Grey WasctTaliL, Motacilla cinerea, WILL. ....... a ie 9p
Sprine OatTeEar, Budytes verna, CUV......-.+6 =e
BLuEHEADED OaTEAR, Budytes cyanocephala, N. Woop ..
Rock Pipitr, Anthus obscurus, BLYTH .....-...006: la bate
Meapow Pipit, Anthus pratensis, BECHST .........-...-.
‘Tree Preir, Anihus‘arboreus, BECHST..). 0.5 /ieaewcts oats
Tawny Lavrock, Corydalla fusca, ViG.sces.seccceancses
Sxy Lark, Alauda arvensis, LINN............ o eae ates 2
Woop Lark, Alauda arborea, LINN............-+ ern ches
SHORE Larx; Alauda Alpestris, LINN. «......60...00+00 6
Snowy Lonespur, Plectrophanes nivalis, MEY...........
Rusty Lonesrur, Plectrophanes Lapponica, SELBY......
Corn Buntine Emberiza miliaria, LINN............06--
YELLow Buntine, Emberiza citrinella, LINN.......-...-
REED Buntine, Emberiza scheniculus, LINN...........--
Crrat Buntine, Emberiza cirlus, LINN. .....-... eae 2
Ortotan Buntine, Emberiza hortulana, LINN..........
HovseE Sparrow, Passer domesticus, ALDROV.......00.---
TREE Sparrow, Passer arboreus, BLYTH...... Séie cee
Cuarr Finca, Fringilla celebs, LINN.......-2--.-6- sees
BraMBieE F incu, Fringilla montana, WILL.........0000-
Siskin GOLDWING, Carduelus spinus, STEPH. ..... J ide ae
’4 _->Common GOLDWING, Carduelis elegans, STEPH............
“Wan Linnev, Linaria cannabina, SWAINS.........0006
Mountain LInNET, Linaria montana, WILL....... eee
RepPoLt Linnet, Linaria pusilla, BLYTH..............
Meaty LInneET, Linaria canescens, GOULD..........0+..
Haw GrossBeak, Coccothraustes crategus, BLYTH ....... A
GREEN GROSBEAK, Coccothraustes chloris, FLEM..........
Pippin CrossBiLu. Crucirostra vulgaris, STEPH..........
Pine Crossspixyi, Crucirostra pinetorum, MEY............
WHITEWINGED CRossBILL, Crucirostra leucoptera, STEPH.
Pint THICKBILL, Densirostra enucleator, C.T. Woopn....
HepcGeE Coatnoon, Pyrrhula vulgaris, TEM. ........... 2
SPOTTED STARLING, Sturnus varius, MEY...........0.--

PREFACE.

Ir is frequently a matter of surprise, to those little
versed in ornithological science, that, although we have
already several works relating to Ornithology, and more
especially to that of our own island, yet that others, ap-
parently with a similar aim, are almost continually issuing
from the press. ‘* Why,” say they, “should we have the
same history so often over ?’”—Now, though this shallow
mode of argument appears sufficiently plausible to the
‘“‘ general reader,” the experienced Ornithologist at once
perceives the emptiness and the absurdity of the remark.
If each succeeding author did tell the same story, surely
no one would take the needless trouble of consulting
their works. But the fact is, that Nature can never be
exhausted, and however long and minute the description
of the economy of any bird may be, much yet remains to
be added.

The writers of the Linnzean era seem to have supposed
that a few lines would comprise ali that it was either pos-
sible or necessary to say on the habits of any one bird ;
and they acted accordingly. But the high-spirited and en-
thusiastic Witson at once broke through such trammels,

x PREFACE.

and soared far above all his competitors, with a steady
and majestic flight. His bright example has since been
followed, with more or less success, by various modern
authors, and especially by AupuBon, whose highly valu-
able Ornithological Biography deserves unqualified praise.
In our own country, Montacu, Sexsy, and others, have
laboured with equal zeal, and no small success. But still,
to suppose that these worthies have effected all that can be
effected, would indeed be a mistaken notion. No work
treating of our Ornithology, hitherto published, has been
without its due share of errors and defects; and, indeed,
all that we can ever hope to achieve, with regard to the
habits of the feathered tribes, is to add as much as possi-
ble to their biographies.

With this object alone the present volume has been
written; and, of course, it contains numerous errors,
which I shall most gladly acknowledge and correct, when
pointed out tome. Any observations tending to confirm
or controvert what I may have advanced, from whatsoever
quarter, would likewise receive due attention. Indeed, I
conceive there is no more advantageous mode of improving
our knowledge in this and other departments of that de-
lightful science, to which we ought all to pay more or less
attention, than a correspondence between Naturalists resid-
ing in distant parts of the country. Although the natural
reserve of the English character doubtless tends greatly to
repress such communication, yet, when once entered on,
it never fails to impart mutual satisfaction to the parties
concerned. And here I gladly seize the opportunity of
returning my warmest acknowledgments for the very

PREFACE. Xi

liberal manner in which I have been assisted, and the
very kind interest which has been taken in my literary
labours, by Epwarp Buiytu, J. D. Satmon, Esq.,
Dr. Cuarztes Liverroot, J. D. Weston, Esq., Dr.
Joun Latuam, the Rev. W. T. Breer, Dr. SHIRLEY
Parmer, Epwin Lees, Esq., Wititiam D. BurcHe Lt,
Esq., Dr. NicHotas C. PErcivaL, and many others,
whose communications (some anonymous), are mostly
printed at the end of the several articles, in order to avoid
that admixture of styles which would otherwise have been
unavoidable. I may further remark, that where my con-
tributors had employed erroneous names, the proper ones
have been substituted, which will prevent all confusion.

In the following pages, I have purposely omitted all
dry technical details of plumage, &c., except in the case
of the rarer species, as it could serve no useful purpose,
to repeat, nearly in the same words, what has been in
every worthless compilation, from ArisToTLe to the pre-
sent day, respecting the plumage of our common and well-
known birds.

Of course it cannot be denied, that much of the infor-
mation contained in this book, has been included else-
where; and, from the very nature of the work, this must
be the case. But no one fact is herein stated, which has
not been observed with my own eyes, excepting where
other authorities are referred to, which is, in every case,
done openly and fully. And, while I agree with my pre-
decessors in many points, I have found much to correct,
and still more to add, to the meagre and unsatisfactory
accounts of most of our British Ornithologists.

Xil PREFACE.

I will not, like some fawning writers, conclude by in-
voking the clemency of the reader and the critic, but offer
my pages to be duly and thoroughly sifted by both parties,
fearing little from the listlessness of the ‘‘ general reader,”
or the severity of the reviewer.

It now only remains to be added, that the following
pages are the result of many years close observation and
investigation in the fields—the only place where the won-
derful operations of Nature can be successfully studied ;
and that the book has been composed in the intervals
between less pleasing, and, I may say, frequently less
useful occupations.

NEVILLE Woop.

Sudbury Hall, Derbyshire.
April, 1836.

BRITISH SONG BIRDS.

OrpER II.—INSESSORES, Vicors.
TrisE II.—DENTIROSTRES, Cuvier.
Famity III.—_TURDID4&, N. Woop.
Sus-Famity ITI.—TURDINA, N. Woop.
Genus, TURDUS, Anrtie.

Misset Turvusn, Turdus viscivorus, Wit.

As patriots guard their country from the steps

Of some proud tyrant, and his lawless band,

Who, on the broad arena of the world,

Like gladiators, fight for prize and plunder,

** And spread destruction o’er a smiling land;”’

So dauntless guards the Storm-Cock his lov’d home,
His mate, his young, his nest, from prowling Hawk.

Anonymous.

SynNoNyMSs.—Turdus viscivorus, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Anulyst, No.
13.—Merula viscivora, SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Missel Thrush, SELByY’s Br. Orn.

—Analyst, No. 13.

Tuis large and handsome Thrush remains in Britain
throughout the year, and is rather plentifully, and equally
distributed over the kingdom; though from its comparatively
shy and secluded habits, less is known of its economy than of
that of the other British Thrushes. I have taken considerable
pains to make myself acquainted with its haunts and habits,
and flatter myself that I have not failed in the attempt. The
Missel Thrush is far from being a rare bird in Derbyshire, and
its habits have afforded me considerable amusement for several
years past. Though it is fond of retirement, very thick and

B

2 THE MISSEL THRUSH.

extensive woods do not appear to be its favourite haunts, as is
is generally to be met with in small woods; and, during the
inclement seasons, they congregate in small flocks ; occasion-
ally also, though seldom, I have known it associate with the
Garden Thrush. Its food is nearly the same as that of the
other Thrushes. In summer it subsists on slugs, snails, grubs,
and worms ; in autumn on blackberries, and on the berries of
the mountain-ash ; and in winter on the berries of the misseltoe
—whence its name—hawthorn, juniper, holly, and ivy, and
sometimes, though rarely, on sloes. It does not appear so
eminently frugivorous as some others of the genus, and indeed
I believe the fact of its eating domesticated fruit at all, has
hitherto passed unnoticed, or it has been mistaken for the
Garden Thrush. The following anecdote, however, puts the
matter beyond a doubt :—

When walking in a garden containing all kinds of fiuit trees,
in the summer cf 1833, the gardener, who, by the way, is by
no means more favourable to the feathered race than the rest
of his tribe, was prowling about in search of his prey. After
a short while, my ears were saluted by the report of a gun
from the quarter in which I had, but two minutes before, ob-
served the gardener with his gun. His aim | knew to be fatal,
and on nearing him to discover the nature of his prize, was not
a little astonished to find it the bird whose habits we are now
detailing, and still more astonished on learning that it had been
feeding on the redcurrants toadegree which had evidently greatly
excited the destructiveness of the predaceous gardener. I might
have doubted the truth of his story, and have taken it to be
merely an excuse for destroying the bird, had I not since fre-
quently verified the fact from personal observation. It is in walled
gardens, partially surrounded by trees, that its frugivorous™
propensities are most apparent. In such situations, and espe-
cially when the young are rearing, its depredations on the
garden are very considerable, and currants, gooseberries, rasp-

2
* When I speak of fruit, I do not include wild berries under the term.

THE MISSEL THRUSH. 3

berries, strawberries, and peas, seldom come amiss to the
young birds. As long as any individual of the human race is
to be seen in the garden, the Missel Thrush will seldom venture
its precious life there, but the enemy is no sooner out of sight,
than it appears from its retreat, and feasts at its leisure until
again disturbed. By sheltering yourself behind a thick currant
bush, you will have full scope for observing its frugivorous
propensities. The gooseberries and currants it swallows
whole, with great composure, always choosing the largest and
ripest. The red currants are its favourites, and the yellow are
only resorted to when their more rosy congeners fail. Of
gooseberries the smooth kind are selected, and as our garden
gives birth to those of the rough or hairy variety chiefly, the
depredations I have experienced of these, from the Missel
Thrush, are trifling. It is particularly partial to the large
yellow gooseberries, and I have sometimes noted five or six of
the species—doubtless the family party—making a hearty
meal on this large and luscious fruit. Thus we find that the
Missel Thrush has not a little of the epicure in it. It likes
red currants and yellow gooseberries!—no mean fare either.
But although I have known a single bush entirely despoiled
of its fairest produce in the course of a week, or less, merely’
by the voraciousness of this bird, yet, on the whole, fruit forms
but a small portion of its subsistence, as it is principally during
the time when the young are in the nest that it eats fruit at
all. Garden peas appear, however, fully as palatable to it as
red currants and yellow gooseberries, and afford it more sub-
stantial and more permanent fare. When it can, it will always
be happy to insinuate itself among the rabble of House Sparrows
that invariably flock around the pea-rows, and, by keeping itself
concealed with considerable circumspection, seems willing that
the blame should rest on its pert and noisy associates. But,
though it may escape the observation of the gardener, yet it
will not pass unnoticed by the observing Ornithologist. I
have, accordingly, frequently seen it tugging with might and
main at the pea-pods, either to pull them off, and open them at
B 2

4 THE MISSEL THRUSH.

their leisure in a safer place, or to crack them, and devour the
delicacies concealed within, on the spot. Nothing is more
common than to observe this bird flying off with its booty to a
neighbouring wood, where we may suppose its wife and family
are anxiously awaiting its return. On its approach to the
nest, it is welcomed home with loud and discordant screams,
which, discordant though they be to our ears, are without
doubt dictated by affection.

The garden is, however, perhaps not the best place for watch-
ing the habits of this interesting bird. For although I have
been so fortunate as to have observed it frequently in gardens
in this neighbourhood, yet, judging from the descriptions of
authers, it would seem that it is not generally a visitant of the
garden. ‘To the wood, therefore, let us repair without further
deiay. A thick braky wood (the Paradise of the Warbler fa-
mily) will not do for our researehes in the present case. A
grove consisting of tall trees, either beech or oak, will suit us
best. Having arrived at the desired spot, let us conceal our-
selves behind the shelter of a hedge or thick bush, and, if there
be any Missel Thrush’s nests about the premises, you have not
long to wait before you hear the somewhat unmusical cry of
the male bird, which may possibly fly directly over your hiding
place. This will give you an idea of its mode of flight, and
some of its other habits. But if you wish to observe it still
more closely, you must, after having discovered a nest, turn up
a piece of ground near the spot, and place a few meal-worms
thereon. This done, return to your hiding place, and you
will not fail of gaining a tolerably good insight into its habits,
though it requires a long course of close and patient observa-
tion to become thoroughly acquainted with its manners. The
best means of observing it in winter, is to conceal yourself
near a misseltoe or juniper bush. The berries of these and
other bushes it plucks, and devours with avidity, and, when
shot in winter, its bill and legs are often stained with the juices
of the berries on which it may happen to have been feeding.
I have frequently known it trample newly turned up soil in the

THE MISSEL THRUSH. 5

same manner as the Peewit Lapwing and other birds, in order
to force the unfortunate worms out of their subterraneous re-
treat. Worms and insects appear to be more exclusively its
food than snails, which indeed it does not shell so adroitly as
the Garden Ouzel and the Garden Thrush. ThoughI do not
profess to give a satisfactory reason for this, yet the fact I can
confidently assert to be true, nor indeed would I have penned
it, had [ not been certain of its truth.

The flight of the Missel Thrush is rapid, but not smooth,
and it is best adapted for short quick flights. When you see
it flying from the top of a lofty oak tree, and repairing to a
neighbouring wood, its heavy and apparently laborious, though
rapid flight, would certainly not lead you to suppose it a
Thrush, were you not aware of the fact. It is also consider-
ably larger than the birds with which we commonly associate
the name Thrush, being about eleven inches from the tip of the
bill to the end of the tail. Some individuals measure even
more, but I believe eleven inches to be the average.

The song of the Missel Thrush has ever been a disputed
point among Ornithologists ; some maintaining that it is loud,
harsh and disagreeable, while others declare it to be full, rich,
and melodious! Now I am by no means inclined to go into
either of these extremes. I have frequently heard the song of
this bird ; and although it certainly does not possess the deep
and rich melody of the Garden Ouzel, yet it is far from disa-
greeable. The merit of the song of birds must, however,
always be, in a great measure, matter of opinion. Thus some
give the palm to the Garden Ouzel, others to the Garden
Thrush, others again to the Black-capt Fauvet, but I believe
that all allow each of these delightful songsters to be unri-
valled in its peculiar manner. But I am inclined to think that
the difference of opinion with regard to the Missel Thrush,
rests on other ground. For though there might be difference
of opinion with regard to this as well as any other bird, yet I
think the conflicting accounts have arisen from the little ac-
quaintance which authors possess with this species. Some

6 THE MISSEL THRUSH.

say that it is harsh and disagreeable, because they have heard
little more than the undoubtedly discordant scream which it un-
sparingly utters before a storm, and because it is called by the
vulgar, “‘ Holm Screech,” ‘‘ Screech Thrush,” and other appella-
tions derived from its screeching ; whilst the party in favour of
the sweetness of the song have probably mistaken the strains of
some other birds for those of the Missel Thrush. In my opinion,
the song is decidedly inferior to the clear and open melody of the
Garden Thrush, the strains being more desultory, and perhaps
not quite so melodious. The song would be far too loud for a
room, and, should any of my readers be inclined to keep so
large a bird in confinement, they will find it convenient to
hang the cage outside the window, or, as BEcHSTEIN advises
in his admirable Cage Birds, in a spacious hall. The Missel
Thrush has been observed to sing on the wing, like the Spot-
ted Starling, Ivy Wren, and some others. I have only per-
ceived this habit in a few instances, and such eccentric pro-
ceedings are certainly not peculiar to our songster. I have
never had the curiosity to keep this bird in a cage, nor am I
partial to the practice of captivating any of the Thrushes or
Ouzels. They are extremely troublesome in confinement, and
neither the song nor habits can, in my opinion, compensate
that trouble. There is of course no disputing about tastes, but
for my own part, I have not derived one-tenth part of the
pleasure from keeping birds in confinement, that I have from
observing their unsophisticated habits in a state of nature;
and the only caged bird I now possess is a solitary Hedge
Dunnock, which at present enjoys the run of a large and com-
modious aviary. I have in my time kept all kinds of birds in
confinement, both foreign and British, from the Barn Owl to
the Ivy Wren, and this was undoubtedly what first in-
duced me to commence the study of Ornithology as a science ;
but now I find far greater pleasure in exploring the hedge, the
wood, the field, the lake, and the marsh, in all weathers, at all
seasons, and at every hour of the day and night which I can
possibly devote to this fascinating pursuit. But to return to

THE MISSEL THRUSH. |

our songster, whose claims for imprisonment we had been
discussing before this digression.

Not the least interesting part of the biography of the Missel
Thrush is its nidification. Although the fact has not been re-
marked by authors, yet it may undoubtedly be ranked amongst
those birds which return year after year to incubate on the
same spot, and on the same tree. I am inclined to suppose
that those birds in which this habit is observed, either pair for
life, or that the same pair return to the spot each year, there to
taste anew the delights of happy wedlock. If the latter be the
case, the birds certainly have this advantage over us, that their
married state never becomes wearisome. The cause of the
Missel Thrush’s returning to the same spot for incubation is a
full development of the organs of Inhabitiveness and Locality,
which same faculties also guide the Swallows without fail each
to its own nest. The nest of the Missel Thrush is large, some-
what loose, and not remarkably compact: nor indeed is com-
pactness essential in this case, as the cleft of the tree—its in-
variable site—fully atones for any deficiency in the structure
itself. It consists of dry grass, hay or bents externally, and is
lined with grass of a finer texture. This is its usual compo-
sition ; but it is occasionally adorned with wool, paper, rags,
and such deiectable objects, stuck loosely outside the structure.
Though the nest is certainly not a model of symmetry, yet it is
admirably adapted to the purpose for which it is intended, the
white moss and hay assimilating so closely with the colour of
the branch on which it is placed, that although it is generally
situated in an open and otherwise conspicuous station, yet it is
not always an easy matter to discover it, even if you know
whereabouts it is. The eggs, which, according to my experi-
ence, are almost invariably five in number and never more, are
of a greenish white colour, blotched at the larger end with
large patches of reddish brown. The eggs, however, are very
subject to variety, so much so, that in many cases, an expe-
rienced Ornithologist alone could distinguish the species by
a sight of them. The nest never varies, and cannot be mis-

3 THE MISSEL THRUSH.

taken for that of any other bird. Not only do the eggs differ
greatly in colour, but also in shape and size. I haveseen some
about twice the usual size, and nearly round. These specimens
were taken from avery early nest, and were not double-yolked.

This bird will not quit its nest until you are almost within
reach of its tail, but it is extremely quick in escaping from your
hand. On one occasion, a friend being in want of a specimen
of the nest and eggs of this species for his museum, and also
of the bird itself, proposed to me to endeavour to catch the fe-
male on the first nest we could find. We accordingly repaired
to a neighbouring wood, in which I was almost certain we
should discover a nest. We were not disappointed ; and per-
ceiving that one of the parents was on the nest, my friend ad-
vanced cautiously towards the tree, with an instrument of de-
struction in his right hand, with the murderous and somewhat
unfeeling intention of knocking the bird on the head. He
aimed, as he supposed, a deadly blow at the innocent creature ;
the bird was, however, too quick for him, and escaped unhurt,
to relate the adventure to its mate, which was hurrying towards
the spot to see how affairs were going on at home. On looking
into the nest, we discovered five callow young, and I was in-
deed rejoiced that the blow inflicted by my friend did not reach
the skull of the unhappy mother, as in that case we should
have been compelled, however reluctantly, to have slain the
young birds. I had afterwards the satisfaction of observing
this brood following their parents in the wood, and there fed
by them. Towards dusk of the same evening, we were
sufficiently fortunate to discover a Missel Thrush’s nest which
had been deserted, and next day I shot a fine male of the former
year for my friend.

Although the preceding anecdote proves that the Missel
Thrush is in general not easily disturbed on its nest, yet on
some occasions I have known it remarkably shy. Both sexes
take their turns on the nest, and the male may frequently be
heard pouring forth his joyous notes in the neighbourhood of
it. Most persons mistake the song of this bird for that of the

THE MISSEL THRUSH. 9

Garden Thrush, to which indeed it has considerable resem-
blance; but the experienced Ornithologist easily detects the
difference. The Missel Thrush always pours forth his strains
at a very great elevation, on one of the loftiest trees the neigh-
bourhood affords. It commences its song very early in the |
year, generally in February, but sometimes in January, and at
that season, though not so thrilling as that of many other
birds, it has indescribable charms to the Ornithologist; and ,
indeed I know few pleasures greater than that afforded by
hearing it send forth its melody from a lofty beech tree, on the
delighted neighbourhood, and inviting, as it were, the balmy
air of spring to spread its genial influence over the earth. I re-
gret to add, however, that in times past I have had no scruple
to send after it a charge of No. 5, whilst it was uttering its
love song,—a crime of which I hope none of my readers have
ever been guilty. Though I think I have a good aim, I never
succeeded in killing this bird at the usual elevation at which it
sings, but have frequently wounded it; it is also a remarkably
strong bird, and though several shots may have entered its
body, it will frequently escape the talons, though not the
barrel, of its merciless pursuer. Sometimes when I have
winged it, it would make good its escape among the long grass,
and though I have afterwards shot at and wounded it two or
three times, yet could I not catch it; but when its young are
just hatched, nothing is easier than to shoot it.

At this period its courage is so great, that few even of the
bold and predaceous Falcon family dare attack it, and, though
I have never myself witnessed it defending itself against the
Falconide, yet I have never known any of these make too near
approach to its nest; I fear, however, that the crafty Magpie
teo often proves a match for it. When attacked fairly and
openly, our bold songster may almost be said to be invincible,
but I have witnessed both the Magpie and Common Jay
carrying off a young Missel Thrush in triumph, before the
parents are aware that an intruder has been invading their
premises. In these cases the parents are never apprised of

10 THE MISSEL THRUSH.

their loss, as unless they have actually seen one of their
darlings carried off, the diminution in the family party is not
noticed, and peace continues to reign within the nest. The
eggs are hatched in about sixteen days, and the same term
renders the young birds fit to make their entry into “ life,”
themselves to become parents in their turn, and to undergo
the perils and dangers incident to this nether world.

Jn addition to, and in corroboration of, my own account of
this bird, I feel great pleasure in presenting my readers with
the following particulars, communicated to me by my amiable
and talent friend Mr. Bryru, in a letter dated October 3d,
1835 :—

“Very early in the winter, the Missel Thrush associates
here in large flocks, which are very often mistaken for Field-
fare Thrushes, though the note is very different. This bird,
which I consider the type of the Thrush genus, is the most
baccivorous of the European species, is fond of worms, slugs,
snails, and the like, and fruit; but it does not crack its snails
so adroitly as the Garden Thrush. It feeds almost entirely on
berries. The large Himalaya species I formerly mentioned to
you, exactly resembles it in form and size, and probably in
habits, but its plumage is -more like that of an immature Missel
Thrush.”

A correspondent, with whose name and address I am not
favoured, thus writes to me :—

“As far as my reading goes, I have not been able to find
that authors mention the Missel Thrush as a frugivorous bird.
That it does feed on our garden fruit, and that pretty
plentifully, I have learnt to my cost. For in the middle of
summer they generally resort to my fruit bushes, helping them-
selves to what I had always before considered exclusively my
own property. In confinement it does not object to a piece of
mealy apple or pear, but I cannot say that I have observed it
eating these in its wild state. Perhaps you have?—N. D.”

I am much obliged to my anonymous correspondent for this
and other communications with which my book will be enriched.

THE MISSEL THRUSH. 11

I have never observed this or any other Thrush to eat apples
or pears in their natural state.

In aletter dated October the 12th, 1835, Mr. Biytu writes
as follows :—

“‘ Flocks of Missel Thrushes are now plentiful here. The
male is distinguished from the female by his spots being darker
and larger, especially about the flanks, and by his colours
being generally brighter. He does not acquire the fine sulphur
tint on the breast till after the second (autumnal) moult; at
least they are then far more handsome. All the Thrushes
moult but once in the year—in autumn. At this period the
Garden Ouzel generally becomes bare about the head. Like
other Dentirostral birds, the wing and tail primaries are not
shed until the second autumnal moult; and this even holds
good in such species as moult twice in the year, as the Wagtails,
Oatears, Pipits, &c., which change all their feathers, but the
primaries both in spring and autumn. While the Larks, there-
fore (which I range* at the extremity of the Sturnide, close to
the American genus Sturnellus) change—like the rest of that
family, the Corvide and others which come into my IJnsessores,
Cultrir ostres—all the primaries at the very first moult, the
Pipits do not shed their’s until the third moult, including the
vernal change. ‘The members of the Finch family, and others
which range in my Insessores Conirostres, resemble in this the
Dentirostres.

The Missel Thrush is subject to considerable variety, speci-
mens being met with of a light chocolate colour, and others
nearly white.

* Mr. BiytuH has kindly submitted to me his arrangement of the Order
Insessores of VIGORS,

1 THE FIELDFARE THRUSH.

FieLprare Turusu, Turdus pilaris, Writ.

Ye strangers, banished from your native glades,
Where tyrant frost with famine leag’d proclaims
«* Who lingers dies;” with many a risk ye win
The privilege to breathe our softer air

And glean our sylvan berries.

GISBORNE’S Walks in a Forest.

Synonyms.—Turdus pilaris, Linn. Syst.—LAtTH. Ind. Orn.—Analyst, No. 13,
Merula pilaris, SeLBy’s Br. Orn.—Fieldfare Thrush, STEPH. Gen. Zool.—
Analyst, No. 13.

Tuts bird is not so large as the Missel Thrush, measuring
about ten inches; but it is altogether handsomer, has a livelier
expression, and richer and darker colours. The breast is
remarkably beautiful, with the spots not so square and abrupt
as in the preceding species. Its habits are, however, less
interesting and do not vary so much as in the Missel Thrush.

Most of our Ornithologists date the usual period of its
arrival, in the beginning of October. But Sexsy is of opinion
that the flocks seen at this time consist of Missel Thrushes,
which are taken for Fieldfare Thrushes. This is certainly not
the case in my neighbourhood; as the Fieldfare Thrushes
generally appear in the beginning of November, and the Missel
Thrushes do not congregate till the middle of December, and
then they are never observed in such large flocks as the Field-
fare and Redwing Thrushes. On its arrival, the Fieldfare
Thrush betakes itself to our fields and meadows, preferring
those which are flat and extensive. It is abundant in every
part of the country, associating with its congener the Redwing
Thrush, and, with these, may frequently be observed to follow
the flocks of Barefaced Crows, with the view, it may be sup-
posed, of profiting by the superior judgment of their venerable
associates. It generally departs in the early part of April,
but sometimes remains much longer.

THE FIELDFARE THRUSH. | is

The benefit which it confers on the farmer must be irfimense,
as it subsists, in moderately mild seasons, entirely on slugs,
snails, worms, and various smail insects, whose scientific names
I am not Entomologist enough to know. With the insects
themselves, however, and with the peculiar habits of each, I
am perfectly conversant. Though the Fieldfare Thrush is
naturally a very shy bird, yet, when in large flocks, they admit
of a tolerably near approach, especially if you know how to
set about it. When going out with a friend to shoot them,
we have always found it the best plan to keep close to the
hedge, and to advance slowly and cautiously. In this manner
and by commencing the attack judiciously on the rear, a very
large number may be killed without causing serious alarm to
the great mass of birds, especially as they do not generally
keep very close together. In mild winters it roosts on the
ground.

These are its habits in mild seasons. During very hard
frosts, its mode of life alters considerably. It then keeps in
closer masses, resorts to the lanes and roadsides, and even
approaches houses, in order to obtain what the fields and
meadows are no longer able to supply. As long as the frost
continues in its full rigour, berries form its chief support.
Those of the holly, ivy, mountain ash, hawthorn, and also
blackberries and barberries now form its chief subsistence, and
if the frost does not soon relent, it frequently falls the victim
of famine, along with its partners in distress, the Redwing
Thrushes. In these “bad times” it admits of a very near
approach, and the field Naturalist eagerly avails himself of
its misfortunes, to gain a clear insight into its habits. In the
winter of 1830, I found several Fieldfare Thrushes dead in
different parts, though mostly in pretty “ good case.” Nor
was the coldness of the season such as to have caused a
material dearth of food ; and the only way which I can account
for the fact is, by supposing that cockney sportsmen, and
boys come home for the Christmas holidays, had been trying
their hand at them, and that they had been wounded, though

14 THE FIELDFARE THRUSH.

not in so sportsman-like a manner as to deprive them of life
on the spot. Many of my readers may doubtless frequently
remember to have found wounded hares and rabbits dead,
in woods frequented by poachers. I have, on one or two
occasions, found Wood Pheasants which had perished in this
ignoble manner, .but these were only discovered by mere
accident, as they always take care to perform the funeral rites
for themselves, before they consign themselves to the arms of
Death, by getting into the very thickest and most braky wood
that may happen to be at hand. It is far otherwise with the
Fieldfare Thrushes, and in very severe seasons the most care-
less observer can scarcely help finding them dead in the fields
or beside hedgerows and sheltered lanes.

This bird is supposed to be the species so admired by the
voluptuous Romans as an article of food, and it was by them
fed in immense numbers in aviaries or voleries, and when fat,
they were sold fora shilling a-piece. So profitable, indeed,
was this trade, that there were regular dealers, who did nothing
but fatten them. The aviaries were made nearly dark, and
the newly-caught birds were placed with those which had
been rendered comparatively tame. As soon as they became
more reconciled to their lot, they were placed in a second
aviary, where they became considerably fatter. After this,
they graduated again, being placed carefully in the third and
last aviary, there to end their days. When arrived at this im-_
portant stage of their feeding, great care was taken not to
frighten or molest them in any way, and only just enough light
was admitted to enable them to find their food, which consisted
of the finest figs and flour mashed up into a paste, so that they
‘fared sumptuously every day,” until that fatal hour when a
cruel twist of the neck put a period to whatever they may have
experienced of happiness or misery. As soon as any of the
birds were judged fit for the table, they were taken out of the
aviary with great care, in order that the composure of the rest
might not be disturbed. This expensive mode of feeding,
practised by the ancients, has been equalled, if not surpassed,

THE FIELDFARE THRUSH. 15

in modern times. I allude to the custom of cramming Geese
and Turkeys, so commonly adopted by our London poulterers.
The article crammed down the throats of the unfortunate
wretches, not unfrequently consists of figs.—SrLBy says he
has found the flesh of this species bitter, but I should think
that this depends entirely on the time of year at which it is
taken, and onthe food on which it had previously subsisted.
For my own part, I have never had the curiosity to taste the
flesh of this or any other song bird, but some of my friends
who have, assure me that at a particular time of the year the
flesh is excellent, but that at other times it possesses the bitter
taste so peculiar in the Missel Thrush in winter, and more or
less at all times. The Fieldfare Thrush is still considered a
dainty by our epicures, and thousands which are captured in
the country, by nets, are annually sent to London.

The Fieldfare Thrush has never been known to breed in this
country, but it is said that in Sweden, Norway, and other
Northern countries, it builds in pine and fir trees, Jaying from
three to five eggs of a light greenish blue, spotted with reddish
brown. The egg has been figured by my friend Hewirtson,
in his exquisitely beautiful British Oology, a work which does
credit to all who are concerned in its publication. It is un-
necessary to describe either the nest or eggs very minutely,
as the bird never nidificates in Britain. It seems a little
extraordinary, that a bird of such peculiarly ground habits—
in our own country at least—should nestle in lofty trees. I
can, however, well believe the fact, as in England, they
generally pass the night in fir plantations. During the few
last remarkably mild and open winters, however, I have
generally known them roost on the ground, in which case
they do not lie together in one mass, but form themselves into
separate groups, thus keeping each other sufficiently warm.

In the winter of 1831, I remember to have witnessed a very
curious and notable conflict between a flock of Barefaced Crows
and another of Fieldfare Thrushes, in Sudbury-coppice :—In
riding rather late one evening (I forget the day, but I shall

16 THE FIELDFARE THRUSH.

never forget the circumstance) along the road which leads from
Ashborne to Sudbury, I was struck by the remarkable appear-
ance presented by a flock consisting of hundreds of Fieldfare
Thrushes darting down among the trees, and then as suddenly
darting aloft into the air, whirling round and round all] the
time like the Spotted Starling. It would appear that the
Barefaced Crows had, like all wise birds, retired early to rest,
and that the Fieldfare Thrushes, which had been sitting up
rather later than they were wont to do, were in a manner
benighted, and had been robbed of their usual resting-place by
the Barefaced Crows, which appears to have incensed them to
such a degree, that they were induced to make the attack above
described. This siege was kept up so industriously and for such
length of time, that the lazy Barefaced Crows at length rose
from the Coppice, mingling with apparent rage amongst the
Fieldfare Thrushes, and altogether producing such an uproar
as forcibly to recal to my mind the splendid descriptions of
the Passenger Pigeon of America, given by those consummate
Ornithologists, W1Ltson and Aupuson. When the Barefaced
Crows were once excited to active measures, the contest was
soon concluded by their heavily dropping down again on their
warm couches, there to dream of their singular adventure.
The vanquished were of course obliged to provide beds for
themselves in another quarter. I had the curiosity to visit the
spot on the following evening before dusk, and found that the
Fieldfare Thrushes had gained experience from their late adven-
ture, and retired early to roost. And this they did on every
succeeding night that I visited the coppice. Though I re-
mained till it was quite dark each night, I never found that
the Barefaced Crows offered to disturb the rightful owners of
the wood, nor have I ever had the pleasure of witnessing a
like adventure since that time.

My excellent friend Bryru informs me, that “ the song of
the Fieldfare Thrush is very unmelodious—worse than that of
the Redwing Thrush, and in fact a mere chatter.”” I have
kept this species in confinement, but never heard it sing. I

THE GARDEN THRUSH. IZ

once put one which I had winged into a cage; it was re-
markably sullen, but neither was it wild, nor did it make any
efforts to escape. If you had seen it, you would have sup-
posed it had a very deep project in its head—so wise and
solemn did it look. It did not live many days.

GarpDEN Turusu, Turdus hortensis, C. T. Woop.

Hark how the air rings!
Tis the Mavis sings ;
And merrily, merrily sounds her voice,
Calling on valleys and hills to rejoice ;
For winter is past,
And the stormy blast
Is hast’ning away to the northward at last.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Turdus musicus, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Merula musica,
SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Turdus hortensis, Garden Thrush, Analyst, No. 13.

Tu1s is nearly the smallest of the British Thrushes, mea-
suring but nine inches in length. It is indigenous in Britain,
and very plentifully distributed over the kingdom. Although

_1 believe that all the Garden Thrushes bred with us remain in
Britain throughout the year, yet it is said that immense fiocks
—the product of more northerly latitudes—visit us in autumn ;
but in the midland counties these extraneous flocks do not
appear, and | believe that they neither penetrate far into the
country, nor remain very long with us. Be this as it may, it
matters little at present, as in this work I shall only describe
what I have myself observed.

The Garden Thrush, though pretty equally distributed over
our island, is most partial to fertile and cultivated spots, and
more especially to kitchen gardens, where it is seldom at a loss
for food. This consists of slugs, snails, earth-worms, and
especially the Helix nemoralis, in spring and summer, and also
in mild winters, but in severe weather it is compelled to be-
come wholly baccivorous, subsisting on the berries of the
holly, ivy, mountain ash, and juniper, as also blackberries and

c

18 THE GARDEN THRUSH.

mulberries, which it devours in great numbers. I have re-
marked that mountain ash trees, situated in woods and planta-
tions, are generally entirely stripped before the end of summer,
by the Garden Thrushes and Garden Ouzels, but those close to
houses are frequently loaded with fruit till the end of autumn,
and avery beautiful sight it is. These trees, however, do not
escape in the end, and if you look out of your window on the
first frosty morning in December, you will see these and other
Thrushes and Ouzels tugging with might and main at the un-
happy tree, which will now soon be despoiled of its whole
crop. As soon as you are observed, the wary flock will fly
off, and will not re-appear for a considerable time afterwards ;
the Garden Ouzels are always the first to give the alarm. It
is a very amusing sight to watch four or five Garden Thrushes
scouring the mown grass before the house, in search of the
slugs and snails, which form so essential a part of their sub-
sistence,—now darting forward, now looking up, and ever and
anon pitching upon an unhappy worm, which, if the bird hap-
pens to be in a state of celibacy, it devours on the spot, with
much apparent satisfaction. But, should it be married, and
have a family to provide for, the unfortunate reptile is instantly
borne aloft to the nest, and deposited in the eager and gaping
mouth of one of the nestlings.

The Garden Thrush is universally allowed to be one of the
finest of our songsters, and to hear it on a clear April morning
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 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 send-

THE GARDEN THRUSH. 19

ing 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 songsters having ended their tales, the Brake
Nightingale commences his. And a delightful tale it is, as the
moon can well testify,—but of this hereafter. The Garden
Thrush continues singing till it is nearly dark, and one or two
individuais keep up much later. In the long days it commences
at one o’clock in the morning, and I can assure my readers
that I have frequently been out at this time on purpose to hear
it singing.

The Garden Thrush is a very polite bird, and before it begins
the affairs of the day, its good morning is proclaimed in its
loudest tone, and duly answered by its associates. Very soon
after this, they are in full song, and are shortly joined by the
rest of the vernal chorus. Charming as is the song of this
bird in its native haunts, nothing is, in my opinion, more dis-
agreeable than to hear its tame and mutilated strains in con-
finement, and indeed there can be no excuse for keeping it
in cages, except in large towns and cities. I have often
listened with delight to its notes, especially when I have been
sojourning some time in London. Indeed, I think I may safely
assert, that I have derived atleast as much pleasure from hearing
birds in cages in towns, as I have in their native woods in the
country.

I have heard this bird whistle many tunes and waltzes with
great precision, and without missing a note. I admired its
skill in the execution of these, but would at all times rather
hear its own unsophisticated strains, as the others always ap-
pear to me artificial and constrained, and it is rarely that you
can get them to sing the acquired tunes without an admixture
of their own more natural notes.

c 2

20 THE GARDEN THRUSH.

The nest of the Garden Thrush is composed exteriorly of
moss, sticks, and grass, tolerably neatly framed together, but
large, and not very compact. The compound of the interior
has given rise to many conflicting opinions. Some say that it
consists entirely of cow-dung, and this is the generally re-
ceived supposition. My observations have, however, led me to
a different conclusion. All the nests I have examined (of course
an immense number) appear to me to have been plastered with
a mixture of a light kind of clay and rotten wood. I incline
the more strongly to this opinion, because, in breaking up the
inner crust of a Garden Thrush’s nest, I have always found
pieces of wood stuck in at different parts, and because, more-
over, before the nest is quite completed, I have generally seen
pieces of wood lying at the bottom of the nest. That a coat
of cow-dung may occasionally be plastered over the inner sur-
face, I am not prepared to deny, but am convinced that it is
not commonly the case. The nest is mostly situated on a part
of the branch where three or four arms meet, and therefore it
need not be very compact.

This bird is not very curious in the choice of a situation for
building, but generally makes its nest in a low thick bush. I
have found the common and Portugal laurels to be favourite
bushes, but the nest is also frequently found in holly bushes,
hawthorns, or even in hedges. They may likewise be con-
fidently looked for in wall-fruit trees, and especially pears,
whose thick foliage afford ample shelter even for so large a
nest. On one or two occasions aiso I have seen it fixed on a
horizontal bar, near a running stream; but this I consider a
very eccentric situation for the Garden Thrush. A nest that I
once knew in such a locality, afforded me considerable amuse-
ment, and it was very curious to observe the young birds gap-
ing their wide mouths for food in this strange situation. When
this brood was fledged, and ready to fly, I took the opportunity
of hiding myself behind a bush, to watch their first flight, as
I expected them to depart every minute. I had the satisfaction
of seeing the female return to the nest five times, every time

THE GARDEN THRUSH. 21

bringing a fat slug or worm to deposit in the mouth of each of
its nestlings, and scarcely had it departed for the fifth time,
when a boy, prowling in that direction, instantly spied the
nest, and doubtless thought it a rare prize. I now determined
to watch his habits also, and, still remaining concealed, saw
him put his hat over the nest, and prepare to carry off the
whole family. It was now high time to intercede in behalf of
my young friends, and I had the satisfaction of setting at
liberty five plump young Garden Thrushes, which, but for my
timely interference, had never seen their parent again, or have
tasted the sweets of liberty. I never see a boy with a nest of
eggs or young birds in his hands, but I remonstrate with him
on his cruelty, or cause the nest to be returned to the spot
from which it was taken.

Sometimes I have found Garden Thrushes’ nests begun so
early as the middle of February, but have never known them
completed. A few sunny days, in the February of 1835, caused
many of these birds to commence building in this neighbour-
hood, but a frost coming on, every one of them was abandoned,
to my great regret. It is not before the end of March that
the Garden Thrush begins building in earnest, but its song
may be heard, in mild seasons, six weeks before this time. [
have known one of these birds dash against a window, and
kill itself on the spot, having probably been pursued by one of
the unrelenting members of the Falcon family. When the
Garden Thrush is first put into confinement, it often becomes
very sulky, and, like the Fieldfare Thrush, refuses all food, but
in afew days it relents, seeming smitten by the kind atten-
tions of its jailer. If put into a very large aviary, it is a lively,
interesting, and even happy bird; but it is despicable to see it
pent up ina cage of a foot square, and shameful in those hard-
hearted individuals who place it in such a situation. I assure
you, kind reader, that I have frequently offered cottagers and
others a shilling if they would consent to the release of their
captive. Such a proposal has always met with a very cold
reception, and with no other answer than a vacant stare, and

92 THE GARDEN THRUSH.

I should not wonder, indeed, if on such occasions I am sup-
posed to be a little cracked /

But let us turn from this picture of misery, Me the Garden
Thrush in his native haunts, where he knows no bounds but
his own inclination, and those placed by Nature. This bird
sometimes sings on a very low tree, but whatever be the al-
titude of the tree, the top branch is invariably chosen for
the vocal performance. You may sometimes approach very
close to him without his heeding you, but you must do
it very cautiously, and by stealth. As soon as he per-
ceives you, if you keep quiet, he will generally continue his
strains, but in a very subdued tone. Sometimes, however, I
have known him pluck up sufficient courage to perform his
song in his best manner, when I was standing within a few
yards of him. But a moment’s break in the melody at once
cuts short your observations, as you may then know that he is
preparing to wish you good bye, and to leave you astonished
at the rapidity and abruptness of his departure. To watch it
cracking the shell of the Helix nemoralis on a stone, is a very
amusing sight, and these poor creatures are devoured in such
numbers as to leave evident traces of the feasting that has
been going on. No less gratifying is it to the Ornithologist to
observe it plucking and swallowing the berries of the moun-
tain ash, hawthorn, currant, and gooseberry, though, to the
gardener, the latter is a most distressing sight.

Monracvu is of opinion, that a wet season is fatal to Garden
Thrushes, as their nests, from being water-proof, become filled
with water, and the eggs are of course spoiled. But for three
distinct reasons I am inclined to differ from this eminent and
accurate Ornithologist, or, inthe words of WittueHBy, “ I do
herein crave leave to dissent from him.” Ist, Because I have
never observed such to be the case; 2dly, Because the wings of
the bird would effectually keep out all wet; and 3dly, Because
] never yet met with a Garden Thrush’s nest which was water-
proof.

Very early in the spring I have often found eggs of this bird

THE GARDEN THRUSH. 23

lying on the ground without a shell, having been prematurely
Jaid. On one occasion I have found an egg of this bird in a
pear tree against the wall, on a very small portion of moss—
just enough to secure it from falling. This egg was never at-
tended to afterwards.

For the sake of experiment, I once added to a Garden Thrush’s
nest containing five eggs, other five eggs, belonging to a Gar-
den Ouzel in the neighbourhood, whom I had taken the liberty
of robbing of her lawful property. Eight of these were hatched,
and nearly the whole got safely through their infancy. The
parents appeared to have some difficulty in providing for so
large a progeny, and, after a few days, one cf the young Garden
Ouzels died, though I believe it was rather crushed than starved
to death. I had the pleasure of seeing this motley brood fol-
low their parents among the long grass and low bushes many
days after they had quitted the nest, but observed that after a
time they parted company, and the Garden Ouzels were no
longer seen. The rest remained with their parents a consider-
able time (as is their custom), and were fed by them.

On another occasion, I put three House Sparrow's eggs
into a Garden Thrush’s nest in a pear tree, containing two of
her own eggs. On these she sat several days, just as she would
have done on her own; but my experiment was cut short vy
one of the labourers taking the nest. It is very difficult to
complete one’s experiments in this line, and this is the more to
be regretted, as I do not often like to rob birds of their eggs.

When the Garden Thrush is disturbed on her nest, and es-
pecially if she has young, she flies round you in great concern,
uttering her peculiar alarm note, ruffling her feathers, spreading
her tail, snapping her bill with great force, and testifying her
rage in every possible manner. She sometimes even pursues
you a short way, as if to see you safe out of her territory, and
is, not unfrequently, joined in the hue and cry by other birds,
especially the Chaffinch, Green Grosbeak, and Common Lin-
net, and sometimes, also, by the Garden Ouzel. The latter has,
however, generally enough to do to defend its own progeny

24 THE GARDEN THRUSH.

from its numerous enemies. I have found the Thrushes—es-
pecially the Missel Thrush—and Ouzels much more courageous
in the defence of their nests than any of the smaller birds. 1
once caught a female Garden Thrush on her nest, when the
young were just hatched. While I had her in my hand, I
could see the male, occasionally, running on the top of the
wall, and keeping a vigilant look-out at my proceedings. When
the captive was released, both parents flew off together with
loud cries, and did not return as long as I was in sight. The
young birds still continued to be fed, but I could not ascertain
whether the female ever returned to her charge.

The Rev. W. T. Brez, of Allesley Rectory, Warwickshire,
has lately written to me as follows :—

“This summer, during the hot dry weather, the Garden
Ouzels and Garden Thrushes were sorely put to it for want of
their usual animal food,—slugs, snails, worms, grubs, and the
like, and accordingly made unusually free with my goose-
berries, currants, and raspberries, to a greater extent than |
ever before witnessed. They also, as their custom is in a dry
season, stocked up close-growing, tufted, Alpine plants, in
search of grubs, &c., that lurked beneath ; propensities which,
no doubt, you have often remarked.—Sept. 30, 1835.” As
during the greater part of the hot and dry weather of the past
summer, I was either in London or confined to the house, I had
no opportunity of observing the summer birds, or the sum-
mer habits of those which are indigenous, Mr. Brez’s remarks,
as relating to the preceding season, are therefore peculiarly va-
luable. I am also informed by my valued friend, CHARLES
LiverPooL, Esq., M.D., that “‘in the gardens about London,
great havoc was made, during the past summer, by the Gar-
den Thrushes, among the gooseberries and currants,’” and that
“the large yellow kind were special favourites, many bushes
being wholly deprived of their produce, merely by the depre-
dations of these birds. —Oct. 5, 1835.”

That excellent Naturalist, Mr. Buytu, has communicated to
me as follows :—

THE GARDEN THRUSH. 25

“Of the Garden Thrush, the most curious fact I am ac-
quainted with is, that we have, every winter, a considerable
accession to their numbers, which differ considerably in their
habits from the resident individuals. They arrive at about the
same time as the Redwing Thrushes, with which they some-
times, but not very often, associate, and, what is remarkable,
they continue in flocks like that species, until long after the re-
sident Garden Thrushes have reared their first broods, leaving
us about the middle or close of April—that is, disappearing
like the Redwing Thrushes, for I have not the slightest doubt
they leave the country. Some remarks on this subject will be
found in the long disquisition on migration contained in my
description of the Brake Nightingale.”” In a subsequent com-
munication the same acute observer says :—‘‘I saw yesterday
(Sunday) week a flock of about forty or fifty Garden Thrushes,
which I am confident were natives. None of the American
spotted-breasted Thrushes, Philomelozdes (both erroneousnames),
flock at all, in this resembling the Nightingales, with which
latter they also agree in their shy, retiring, Warbler-like
habits.”

The following communication corroborates what I have al-
ready said with regard to the nest of this bird :—‘‘It surprises
me that so accurate an author as Montagu should have fa-
voured the opinion (I believe he was the originator of it) of a
wet season being destructive to the Garden Thrush,as I never
knew such to be the case, and because (though I have not tried
it) I consider it extremely unlikely that the nest would retain
water, I never knew that such an opinion had been entertained,
until I read Renn1re’s edition of the Ornithological Dictionary.—
H. Bartow, Cambridge, Oct. 15, 1834.”

26 THE REDWING THRUSH.

Repwine Turusu, Turdus Iliacus, WiLu.

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,

Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere,

Heap’d in the hollows of the groves, the wither’d leaves lie dead—

They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit’s tread.

The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,

And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
Parterre, Vol. III. p. 245.*

SyNnonyms.—Turdus Iliacus, WILL. Orn.—LInN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—
Analyst, No. 13.—Merula Iliaca, SELByY's Br. Orn.—Redwing Thrush, PENN.
Br. Zoou.—StTEPH. Gen. Zoola—Mupvik’s Feath. Tribes.—Analyst, No. 13.

Turis is the smallest of our British Thrushes, and generaily
arrives before the Fieldfare Thrush, appearing about the
middle of October. Its habits and haunts are very similar to
those of the latter, with which it not uncommonly associates.
It frequents fields and meadows, or indeed any open parts
of the country, and, according to my experience, seems to
prefer upland districts to the low grounds. In severe and
long continued frost, it approaches the lanes and highways,
gleaning its daily fare from the hedges and woods. Few of
our wild berries come amiss to it, and I have, accordingly,
observed it to feed on the berries of the hawthorn, blackberry,
juniper, ivy, holly, barberry, mountain ash, and occasionally,
though rarely, and only in extremely rigorous weather, on
those of the sloe. In ordinary seasons, these berries are
sufficiently abundant to sustain it through the winter; but, if
the frost and snow are of long continuance, the crop soon
fails; the Redwinged and Fieldfare Thrushes then perish in
great numbers, and may be found frozen and starved to death,
in lanes and woods, and under hedges, in an extremely
emaciated state. In the winter of 1831, this was the case.
On one occasion, J caged a Redwing Thrush, which I had

* See some beautiful papers on the seasons, by WILLIAM Cox, in the Parterre,
Part 16, for October, 1835.

THE REDWING THRUSH. 27

found in a very weakly condition, near a hedgerow. It
appeared to have suffered equally from cold and hunger, and I
therefore prepared to relieve both as speedily as possible. I
placed it near the fire and offered it food. It scarcely moved
for about an hour, but after this it speedily recovered, de-
voured its food with avidity, and, what is remarkable, was
extremely thirsty.* It soon hopped about its cage at perfect
ease, and promised to become an interesting pet, when un-
happily, in the third day of its captivity, that sworn enemy
to all cage birds, Grimalkin, seized it out of its cage, scampered
off with the unhappy bird in its mouth, and was out of sight
in an instant. I was the more vexed at this, because I
particularly desired to have noticed the habits of this species
in confinement.

In mild and open winters, its food consists chiefly of insects,
slugs, caterpillars and worms, and also the Helix nemoralis,
which latter it deprives of its shell almost as adroitly as the
Garden Thrush. But the localities it frequents are not so
favourable to the Helix nemoralis as to the common earth
worm, and these, accordingly, form its principal support as
long as it remains in the dominions of his Britannic Majesty.

It is easy to shoot the Redwing Thrush, by approaching the
flock in the rear, and keeping always close to the hedge. If
the wind be against you, it will be in your favour; for,
paradoxical as this may appear at first sight, yet, when the
wind is against you, the report of the gun is greatly deadened
before it falls on the ears of the leaders of the flock. Thus,
when they associate in very great numbers—which they
generally do in hard winters—I have fired for hours in their
rear, without causing the main body to take wing, the hinder
birds merely flying on till they arrive in front of the troop,
and so on. When hard pressed for food, they, like their
congeners, the Fieldfare Thrushes, admit of a very near ap-

* T have frequently observed with surprise, that frostbitten birds are remark-
ably thirsty, and have often known them kill themselves by drinking too much at
atime. This is probably owing to the ponds and streams being then frozen over,

98 THE REDWING THRUSH.

proach, and the Naturalist and the Sportsman are at full
liberty to gratify their respective tastes. But, on the other
hand, when the season is mild, and food, in consequence,
plentiful, the flocks are considerably smaller, and invariably
take wing on the slightest alarm. At such times, it is both a
healthy and an amusing exercise to pursue them over hedge
and field, with gun in hand. As soon as the birds are
apprised of your approach, the hinder ones take wing, and
the whole flock soon disappears, leaving you astonished at
the rapidity of their departure; but their flight is neither
high nor of long duration, as they almost invariably settle a
few fields further on. If you approach too openly or abruptly,
you will have no chance either of observing their habits, or—
which many of my readers will consider a more important
affair—of tasting their flesh. For my own part, [ am content
to confine myself to the former, and to shooting occasionally a
specimen for the museum, or for the purpose of noting the
changes of plumage, which take place twice a year in the
members of the Thrush genus.

With regard to the song of this bird, there appears to be
much difference of opinion. SExy says, “it has a clear and
melodious note, and its song, when in its native or summer
residence (Scandinavia Lapland, Russia), is said to be scarcely
inferior to that of our common Thrush.” BrcusTEIN, on the
contrary, affirms that its notes are as unmelodious as those of
the Fieldfare Thrush. Mr. Biyru informs me, that the latter
accords with his observation. Without pretending to clear up
this point, I may remark that the song is very rarely heard in
this country, and only a short time before its departure. And
this it is, doubtless, that has caused the uncertainty with
regard to its musical abilities.

It is said to be extremely plentiful in the north of Europe,
where it remains throughout the year, frequenting wooded
and fenny districts, building its nest in a maple, birch, or other
lofty tree. It lays from four to six eggs, blueish green, spotted
with dark brown. TEmMMINCK says :—‘‘il niche dons les touffes

THE REDWING THRUSH. 29

de suregu et de sorbier, dont il mange les baies.”’ My friend
Hewirtson has hitherto been unable to procure the eggs of this
bird, though he has figured those of the Fieldfare Thrush, in
his beautiful and valuable British Oology.

Widely as the habits of the Garden and Redwing Thrushes
differ, their outward appearance is so extremely similar, that
the practised eye of the Ornithologist can alone detect the dif-
ference. The distinguishing characters of the sexes of the two
species are not more apparent. My esteemed friend Mr,
Biytu, thus writes to me on this subject :—‘‘ In the male of the
Garden and Redwing Thrushes, the spots on the breast are
smaller, and better defined than those of the females,—not
larger, as in the Missel Thrush. But you may pick out many
Garden and Redwing Thrushes, in which the sex cannot be
distinguished by external characters. I can, however, generally
tell them at a giance.’—In a subsequent communication,
Mr. Bryru says :—“ The Redwing Thrush comes occasionally
into gardens, and is the only other species I know of, that
knocks off the shell of a snail in the clever manner that the
Garden Thrush does.”

“The notes of the Redwing Thrush,” says another cor-
respondent, “‘ are extremely desultory, and can scarcely be called
asong. But I must do it the justice to say, that I have only
heard its song in this country, and that but rarely. The
strains it pours forth in its summer haunts may possibly be
far superior. It generally sings on the tops of trees, but, as
far as my experience goes, does not select very lofty ones for
the purpose, like the Missel and Garden Thrushes.—N. D.”

It is difficult to assign the exact period of the departure of
this bird, as some remain till the latter end of May, and have
even been observed in June, but at the end of April few remain,
the main body generally taking their course to the north
about the beginning or middle of this month. In the midland
counties, [ have not often observed them after March, but
they sojourn awhile in the north of Britain, before their final
departure to the countries where they spend the summer.

30 THE REDWING THRUSH.

Varieties, more or less white, are occasionally met with. The
usual cry of this bird is a short shrill chirp, uttered at small
intervals. |

I am informed by a correspondent, that a Himalayan species
of Thrush, figured by Govutp, but not yet named, has twice
occurred in this country. My informant calls it the Mottle-
backed Thrush, but as I know nothing of its habits, I am
compelled to confine myself to this cursory notice.

Genus MERULA, Wii. OUZEL.

GARDEN OvuzeEL, Merula vulgaris, Witt.

When snow-drops die, and the green primrose leaves
Announce the coming flower, the Merle’s note,
Mellifluous, rich, deep-toned, fills all the vale,

And charms the ravished ear. The hawthorn bush
New budded, is his perch; there the grey dawn

He hails; aud there, with parting light, concludes
His melody. ——

GRAHAME’S Birds of Scotland.

SynonyMs.—Merula vulgaris, WILL. Orn.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Analyst, No. 13.
—Turdus merula, LINN. Syst.—LatTH. Ind. Orn.—Black Ouzel, BEw. Hist.
Br. Birds.—Y ellow-bill Ouzel, Analyst, No. 13.

Tuis well known bird is resident and common in every part
of the British Islands, and is one of our most admired song-
sters. It pairs early in March, and commences building about
the end of that month, generally somewhat before the Garden
Thrush. It inhabits such various localities, that it is no easy
matter to determine what are its favourite haunts. I think,
however, that it is mostly found in walled gardens, and woods
near houses, abounding with laurels and other thick bushes.
Here it conceals itself in the thickest shades, during the whole
day, only rising to the top of the bushes for the purpose of
pouring forth its rich melody. It is considerably shyer and
fonder of seclusion than any of the other British Turdide, and
only appears in open ground early inthe morning, and towards

THE GARDEN OUZEL. 31

dusk in the evening. During the rest of the day, it is more
heard than seen. If, when it is singing on the top of a low
bush, or on a honeysuckle-stand, you attempt to approach it,
it instantly drops down amongst the foliage, or flies off, utter-
ing its loud and clear alarm note; and on passing the bush in
which it is secluded, you will hear a rustling amongst the dead
leaves of the former year—that is the Garden Ouzel hopping
about in its retreat. If you beat the bush, it rarely takes wing,
but either remains perfectly quiet until you have left the place,
or hops into a neighbouring bush, thus eluding pursuit.

It is also frequently found in hedges adjoining low and damp
grounds, where its food is mostabundant. Here, by approach-
ing very cautiously along the hedge, you may have a chance
of observing it, either singly or with its mate, feeding on the
berries of the hawthorn and holly. But if you are not very wary,
the bird will be aware of your approach long before you per-
ceive it, and suddenly a “ black bird” will start out of the
hedge, and conceal itself in an adjoining one further on. [If in
the breeding season, it will shortly be followed by its mate,
both sounding their alarm notes. It is a peculiarity with the
Garden Ouzel, that it seldom or never takes wing—especially
when forced to do so—without uttering this note. Neither
does it fly far, and, though it is by no means easy to get very
close, yet you may easily follow the same birds a whole morn-
ing. Itis, in fact, very lazy, and uses its wings very little
when not disturbed.

For depth and richness of tone, the Garden Ouzel stands
unrivalled amongst the British choristers of the woods,
and, in my opinion, its melody is not surpassed by any other
bird with which I am acquainted, save the Brake Nightingale.
Its strains are not so loud as those of the Garden Thrush, but
are infinitely superior to them in mellowness andrichness. Its
charming notes are mostly uttered in the morning and evening,
though in the early part of the season, they may be heard at
any time of the day. At noon, in sultry weather, when scarce
a note is to be heard in the woods, the Garden Ouzel takes its

5 THE GARDEN OUZEL.

siesta; but if, in this state of affairs, the overcharged clouds
should disburden themselves on the thirsty earth, the notes of
the Garden Ouzel resound from all quarters in an instant. This
partiality to rain is cbservable in many other birds. The do-
mestic Rock Pigeon spreads its wings to receive the full benefit
of the shower, and the Thrushes sing in rainy weather. But
the peculiarity is not so striking in any other British songster,
as in the one whose habits we are now detailing. The Missel
and Garden Thrushes sing mostly in storms, but the Garden
Ouzel pours forth its exquisite strains in those delightful and
refreshing sunny showers which so frequently occur in the
months of April and May. I believe JENNiNnGs is the only au-
thor that takes notice of this circumstances.

The nest of this bird is generally situated in a low and thick
bush, either in gardens or woods adjoining houses. It is also
found, but not so frequently as that of the Garden Thrush, in
wall-fruit trees, and especially pears, or trees covered with ivy.
It consists of moss, sticks, and fibres of roots, plastered with
mud inside, and, finally, lined with dry grass. It varies little,
as the substances of which it is composed are easily met with
in every part of the country. The eggs, four or five in number,
are of a greenish brown colour, mottled all over, but mostly at
the large end, with darker spots of the same colour. They are
very subject to variety, and it would be difficult to give a
typical example of its egg. Some are nearly as large, and of
the same hue, as those of the Magpie, but can never be
mistaken—at least by the Ornithologist—for those of any other
bird. The nest and eggs of this bird are well known to almost
every one, and yet I have met with individuals who, having
resided all their lives in the country, have pointed it out to me
as a rare and curious nest. I once knew it to build in a wood,
on the stump of an elm tree, close to the ground. The spot
was well concealed by the young and flourishing shoots of the
tree, and indeed the long grass reached almost as high as the
site of the nest.

It is nothing uncommon for it to build in outhouses, amongst

THE GARDEN OUZEL. 33

heaps of pea sticks or dahlia stakes, or if these be left in the
open air, they are almost certain to be occupied by a pair of
these birds. On one occasion, I remember to have seen its
nest in such a situation, with five eggs. I visited the nest
every morning, and was surprised to find, that each day one
egg disappeared. On the fourth day, the bird continued
sitting, though only one egg remained, and, on the fifth day,
the nest was filled with bones! The difficulty was now solved,
The rats had feasted on the contents of the nest, as long as
anything eatable was left, and then converted it into a store
house. A second instance of this has fallen under my notice,
with this difference, that the eggs were demolished in a single
day, instead of five.

The Garden Ouzel is one of those birds which assists—at
least with its voice—in scaring away an enemy from the nests
of other birds, and especially from that of the Garden Thrush.
Thus, if you have the curiosity to peep into the nest of the
Garden Thrush, you are assailed not only by the cries of the
owners of the tenement, but by those of the Garden Ouzel also,
and many smaller birds.

In summer it subsists on insects, worms, slugs, cherries, red
currants, and peas, and is therefore a constant inhabitant of
the kitchen garden. But, though .it commits considerable
depredations on the fruit trees, and more especially in very hot
summers,* yet I think it will be found, that the benefits it
confers on the gardener, fully atone for the fruit which it
devours in time of need. In winter, its food is the same as
that of the other British Turdine, namely, the berries of the
hawthorn, holly, ivy, blackberry, mountain ash, &c., to all of
which I have observed it to be extremely partial. In very
severe weather, it so far overcomes its natural shyness, as to
pluck the berries of the mountain ash, close to our windows,
or immediately before the house. It has already been observed,

* Mr. BrEr’s remarks, at p. 24, apply equally to this bird and to the Garden
Thrush (Turdus hortensis),

D

34 THE GARDEN OUZEL. |

-that the mountain ash may be seen loaded with berries, till
very late in the year, when the tree is situated in the immediate
vicinity of houses, while those in the woods, are despoiled of
their crop long before the end of summer. But few trees,
whatever be their situation, retain their beautiful and orna-
mental produce, after the frost and snow have fairly set in.
For, while the snow remains on the ground, such wild berries
as the woods and hedges afford, form the sole support of the
Turdide or Thrush family. These gone, the Thrushes and
Ouzels frequently perish in great numbers, or are willing to
beg for food at the parlour window, along with House
Sparrows, Robin Redbreasts, Hedge Dunnocks, Common
Gallinules, and other birds. But the Garden Ouzel is re-
markably hardy, and only falls a victim to the weather in
extremely severe winters.

According to Muniz, there is a popular notion—doubtless
an error—that some Garden Ouzels remain in sulky celibacy
throughout the year. But so far from this being the case, I
am of opinion that they pair for life. At least I have
ascertained, beyond a doubt, that many of them remain in
pairs throughout the winter. And nothing is commoner than
to observe the male and female together during the whole
year.

This bird is often kept in cages, on account of its song, and
is frequently taught to whistle tunes; but, however perfectly
it may know its lesson, such artificial strains can never equal
its natural notes. Instances have been known of its crowing
like a cock in its wild state, clearly indicating a full develop-
ment of the organ of imitation. I have never myself heard it
crow like a cock, but have frequently known it to cackle as a
hen does after laying, especially in the neighbourhood of
farms, and places where great numbers of Fowls are kept.

Varieties more or less white frequently occur. I have seen
a female pied with black and white, which was with egg when.
it was shot.

Sevpy says, that early in November, immense numbers of

THE GARDEN OUZEL. 35

Garden Ouzels “ make their appearance upon our coasts, from
more northern countries. They remain but a few days to
recruit, and then resume their flight in a south-westerly
direction.”

My indefatigable correspondent, Mr. Buytu, has made the
following interesting remarks with regard to the plumage of
this bird :—‘‘ A male Garden Ouzel of the preceding year,
though coal-black everywhere else, invariably has the wing
primaries brown. The female varies considerably ; her beak
never becomes more thantwo-thirds yellow, and some are much
darker coloured than others, being almost wholly black. Some
have the breast confused and smudgy, while in others it is pale,
with dark, well defined spots, resembling those of the female
Garden Thrush. In nestling plumage, the males are darker,
and generally have their markings better defined than the
females.”’

The Garden Ouzel is very partial to the borders of lakes and
slow-moving, muddy streams, where it finds an abundant
supply of its favourite food. It is also very fond of washing,
and its plumage, though black, is kept remarkably clean and
glossy. There are few spots better adapted for observing its
habits than a small and muddy stream, bordering on, or flowing
through a wood, especially if there be a thick hedgerow close
to the stream. In such a hedge it not unfrequently builds its
nest. The young are hatched by the middle of April, and at
least two broods are reared in the year.

My valued friend, Dr. Cuartes LiverPooL, to whom I am
indebted for many interesting communications on British Orni-
thology, informs me that he possesses two Garden Ouzels, in
nestling plumage, pure white, and a third with a little black on
the top of the head, and also on the breast and wings. He
says :—‘‘ These curious specimens of white black-birds, were
sent me some years ago by a friend, who shot them soon after
they were able to fly. They all belonged to the same brood,
but their parents were of the same coal-black colour as the rest
of the species.”

D 2

36 THE RING OUZEL.

In common parlance, this is the blackbird. In a list of
British birds, in the Analyst, it is called the ‘* Yellowbill
Ouzel.”” But as many others of the genus possess strikingly
yellow beaks, I have thought proper to give it the name of
Garden Ouzel, as the least exceptionable I can at present
think of.

Ring Ovuzet, Merula torquata, Wi.

Joyously
From stone to stone, the Ouzel flits along,
Startling the Linnet from the hawthorn bough;
While on the elm-tree, overshadowing deep,
The low-roofed cottage white, the blackbird* sits,
Cheerily hymning the awakened year.
Blackwood's Magazine.

SyNonyMs.—Merula torquata, WILL. Orn.—Briss. Orn.—SELEY’s Br. Orn.
—Turdus torquatus, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Ring Ouzel, WILL. Orn.
—LATH. Syn.—PENN. Br. Z00l.—BEw. Br. Birds.—SELBY’s Br. Orn. Analyst,

No. 13.

Tue Ring Ouzel is a regular periodical visitant of Britain,
arriving in spring, and departing in autumn, generally about
the latter end of October. Its haunts and habits are entirely
distinct from those of the rest of the Thrush family,—so much
so, that in a classification founded on haunts and habits, it is
much to be doubted whether it would gain admittance into the
Turdide at all. But systems based on any one character, f as
those of Linnaus, Cuvier, Vieritot, &c., necessarily con-
tain many flagrant errors. A system, to be natural, must take
into consideration, not only the bill or the claws, but also the
shape of the wing and tail, the mode of flight, the haunts and
general habits, and the internal anatomy. Thus, taking all
these things into account, we shall find that the Ring Ouzel

* An erroneous name for the Garden Ouzel.
+ See the Ornithologist’s Text Book, p, 29.

THE RING OUZEL. 37

ranges perfectly naturally in the family Turdide, sub-family
Turdine, and genus Merula.

In the level parts of the country, the Ring Ouzel is not met
with, but it abounds in all the mountainous and rocky dis-
tricts, where it breeds, and hence its popular names, ‘‘ Rock
Ouzel”’? and ‘Tor Ouzel.” In the south of England it does
not occur, except in the wilder and more uncultivated districts
of Cornwall. It is most plentiful in Wales and in many parts
of Scotland, on barren heaths and stony grounds.

Like the Chats (Savicola), it is remarkably fond of perching
on rocks and stones, and here it generally pours forth a few
desultory, but not disagreeable notes, which are often com-
pared to those of the Missel Thrush. I have seen the bird
near Dovedale, where it appears to be tolerably abundant.
But, from its extreme shyness—in which it resembles the Gar-
den Ouzel—I have been unable to hear its song. Its alarm
note is very similar to that of the Garden Thrush and Garden
Ouzel, and on this account, I mistook it for the latter bird,
when first I met with it. But it differs so widely, in every
other habit, from the rest of the family, that no Ornithologist
could possibly confound the two species. When seen close,
the patch of pure white on the throat distinguishes it at once
from all other British birds, even to the most casual observer.
It-is better formed for flight than the Garden Ouzel, but, from
what I have observed, I do not think it uses its wings much
during its sojourn with us.

I have never found its nest—though I have seen both nest
and eggs—but, according to our most accurate authors, it is
situated on a steep bank, and concealed by such scanty her-
bage as the situation may chance to afford—either “‘a stunted
bush, or a tuft of grass or heath; sometimes also in the cleft,
or in the shelf of a rock. In form and texture it resembles
that of the Garden Ouzel, and the eggs are very similar to
those of the same bird, both in size and colour.” It is said to
be very clamorous if any one approaches its nest, uttering loud
cries, and endeavouring to lure the intruder from it, in this re-

38 THE RING OUZEL.

sembling most other ground builders, as the Grous, Lark,
Duck, Pheasant, Partridge, Lapwing, &c. In autumn it passes
to the southward, where it spends the winter months. Like
the rest of the Thrush family, it is a very handsome bird, and
of a lively and restless disposition. It is probable that it
would not thrive so well in confinement, as the lowland Tur-
dide, though I am not aware that the experiment has been
made in this country. BrcustEIn informs us, in his admir-
able Cage Birds,* that it will live from six to ten years in con-
finement.

Dr. LiverPoot informs me that he has frequently met with
the Ring Ouzel in the neighbourhood of Buxton, and that he
has found its nest on the barren uplands which abound in
the vicinity of that place. The neighbourhood of Buxton is also
favourable to the Rivulet Dipper, and Pied Flycatcher, but the
latter occurs very rarely in any part of the country. I do not
know that the Ring Ouzel is much subject to variety.

* This highly interesting and useful work was translated into English last year
(1835), by Professor RENNIE. Every one who keeps birds in cages, fe possess
a copy of this excellent volume.

THE FALLOW CHAT. 39

Fam. IV.—SYLVIADA,,* Via.
Sus-ram. I.—SAXICOLINA.
Genus SAXICOLA, Becust. CHAT.

Fattow Cuat, Sazicola enanthe, Becust.

Young dwellers in Glamorgan’s vale,
Who listen to my woodland tale,
For you, where’er your footsteps rove, .
©’er moor or mountain, mead or grove,
May some sweet wild bird hovering near,
Your course with gentle music cheer!
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SYNONYMS.—Motacilla cenanthe, Linn. Syst.—Sylvia cenanthe, LATH. Ind.
Orn.—Saxicola cnanthe, Becust. Naturg.Deut.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Wheatear,
SeLBy’s Br. Orn.—Whiterumped Wheatear, STEPH. Gen. Zool.—Wheatear
Warbler, PENN. Br. Zool.—Fallow Chat, FLEM. Br. Anim.—Wheatear Chat-
Muptx’s Feath. Tribes.—Fallow Wheatear, Analyst.

Tue Chats form a very interesting and well defined genus,
but are perhaps less familiar to ordinary observers than any
others of the Warbler family, save in those parts where they
are most abundant. They are all inhabitants rather of the
unfrequented heathy moor, than tenants of the woods and
cultivated pastures; and the Fallow Chat, especially, is seldom
found elsewhere. In my immediate neighbourhood, I have
not very often met with it, but in the more rocky and elevated
parts of Derbyshire, and also on extensive commons, bleak
moors, and open fields, it is very abundant. Nowhere does it
occur so plentifully, however, as on the downs of Sussex,
Surrey, and Dorsetshire, where immense numbers are annually
caught, by the country people, in nooses, brick traps, &c. It

* I pass over the sub-fam. Myiotherine in the Turdide, as the Rivulet Dipper
and Golden Oriole—the only British birds in the group—are either little noted
for their vocal powers, or because I have not much personal acquaintance with
their habits. It would have been easy to have compiled an apparently original
description from books, but this I leave to RENNIE, and such like.

40D THE FALLOW CHAT.

is a common custom with visitors to these places, to take the
bird out of the trap, and leave a penny in its stead. The
Fallow Chat also affects church yards, ruined ‘castles, and
other desolate places, frequented by Owls, Bats, &c. It is
common, too, in those partsof Derbyshire, where stone walls
are used instead of hedges, and appears remarkably fond of
perching on anything of a stony or rocky nature. It occurs
throughout Britain, but is somewhat locally distributed.
Frequently also it is met with in extensive fields and fallow
lands—whence its name—but these are not so peculiarly
its haunts as moors, downs, &c. Here it makes its nest,
under the shelter of a stone, or in the hole of an old wall; in
the latter locality, I have found it more than once, even in the
flat and uninteresting part of Derbyshire in which I at present
reside. According to Sexsy, it breeds in rabbit burrows in
the southern counties, and “on the dry sand-banks that edge
various parts of our coasts.”” In the midland counties, I have
never known it build its nest in rabbit burrows, though I have
very frequently met with the bird in the neighbourhood of
such conveniences.

The Fallow Chat is the shyest of the genus, and I have
always found it extremely averse to the approach of any one
of the human race. But when it has a family to provide for,
it loses much of its natural shyness, and then is the time to
observe its habits. The nest consists of moss and grass,
mixed with wool, and lined with hair, or, perhaps, as fre-
quently, with rabbit’s fur. Some authors mention that it is
lined with wool, but in the nests I havs examined, I have
always known it to be horse hair or rabbit’s fur. I have no
doubt, however, but that in other districts, and especially in
wild, stony moors, it may use wool for the lining of its nest.
Indeed, it is impossible to state positively what are the ma-
terials of the nest of any bird, merely from seeing those
which are found in any particular part of the country.

The eggs are from four to six in number, and of a pale
blueish green colour. On one occasion, I found seven eggs in a

THE FALLOW CHAT. 41

nest, but this I consider very rare, a second instance having
never come under my notice.

Its food consists entirely of small insects, slugs, worms, and
snails, of which, like the rest of the Sylviade, it destoys immense
numbers. Its note resembles the sound produced by striking
two stones together, which might almost induce you to suppose
that. it actually is engaged in breaking the stones on which it
is perched. It closely resembles one of the numerous notes of
the Robin Redbreast.

The habits of this bird, like those of the other Sazicoline,
are shy and solitary, and it never associates in flocks, being
found, for the most part, singly or in pairs. Nor does it ever
approach the dwellings of man, but is altogether a bird of
the uncultivated waste. The young birds do not differ ma-
terially from the adults. The Fallow Chat appears in the
middle of March, and departs so late as the middle of October,
thus sojourning with us seven months out of the twelve.—
Mr. Brytu says:—“‘I suppose the name ‘ Wheatear,’ was
originally applied to the Stone Chat, from its note (wheet-jur,
wheet, jur-jur), and that the term ‘Stone Chat’ was first
affixed to the Wheatear (Fallow Chat), from the noise it makes
while hopping about the stones. At any rate, these terms are,
in many parts of the country, inversely applied to what they
are in books, which bears out my supposition.”

wr ranma arene

rrmeneenrpncemmstneemonne

42 THE WHIN CHAT.

Wun Cuat, Savicola rubetra, Brecust.

When morning dawns with radiant light,
Chasing the shadows of the night,
Waking to life each warbling bird,
Then let our cheerful hymns be heard;
When evening comes with soften’d beam,
Let praise be still our grateful theme.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SyNnonyMS.—Motacilla rubetra, LINN. Syst.—Sylvia rubetra, LATH. Ind. Orn.—
Saxicola rubetra, Mey. Tasch. Deut.—Whin Chat, Mont. Orn. Dict.—SELBY’S
Br. Orn.—Analyst, No. 13.

Tuts is also a summer visitant, but appears about a month
later than the Fallow Chat, seldom arriving on our coasts till
the middle of April, and is not dispersed over the country till
the end of that month, or, in backward seasons, not until the
beginning of May. In the midland counties, it may confidently
be expected by the 20th of April. Like the rest of the sub-
family, it is of a solitary, unsociable disposition, and is said
by authors to equal its congeners in shyness. According to
my experience, however, I have found it remarkably tame and
easy to approach. When riding along a road adjoining an
extensive field or common, it will frequently approach within a
few feet of you, hopping about the road with the utmost non-
chalance, and apparently without the slightest alarm.

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 and inactive bird. Sometimes it will sit
on the top of a hedge or whin bush for an hour together, look-
ing half stupid, half melancholy. And then, as if astonished
at its own inactivity, begins to make up for lost time, either
pouring forth its low but sweet strains, or assisting in the
household concerns. Srxsy says he has traced it pretty far
into Scotland, but we may suppose that it does not extend so

THE WHIN CHAT. 43

far to the north as the Fallow Chat, as it is not included in
Low’s useful Fauna Orcadensis. It is not so eminently a bird
of the stony waste, as the preceding species, but seldom ap-
proaches the habitation of man, inhabiting commons abound-
ing with furze or whin bushes.

Here it builds its nest, either in the long grass, or ina low
and thick furze bush, and I once found it in a hedge, close to
the road. It consists of dry grass and moss, lined with very
fine dry grass, and occasionally, with horse hair. Wool, or
the fur of rabbits, never forma part of its composition. Now,
although nothing is easier than to know whereabouts the nest
is situated, yet it is extremely difficult to ascertain its exact site.
The male generally takes his stand on the top of an adjoining
bush, or hedge, and amuses his mate with his song. If you
approach him, he will dart down into the bush, not to reappear
until your final departure; but that is not the bush in which
the nest is built. This is usually so carefully concealed, that
you may frequently search long and closely, and after all depart
without finding it. The difficulty, too, is increased by the
habit the female has of entering the bush underneath, and
thus stealthily creeping to itsnest. This habit I have observed
so often, that it has become quite familiar tome. The eggs,
five or six in number, but more commonly the latter, are of a
clear and beautiful blucish green.

There is nothing remarkable about its song, but it is sweet
and melodious, though desultory, and uttered in rather a hurried
manner. Its strains are, for the most part, uttered from the
top of a hedge, or low bush—never from a stone or heap of
stones, like the Fallow Chat—but it occasionally leaves its
perch, and attempts to “‘ gain the skies,” in the manner of that
ineffably sweet songster, the Wood Lark. The essay, however,
is but a feeble one, and it seems unable either to remain on the
wing for a long time together, or to mount high, while singing.
Sometimes, also, it hawks for flies, like the Flycatchers (Mus-
cicapa) and others, taking its stand on a low bush, darting at
its prey and returning again to its perch. But itis by no

44 THE WHIN CHAT.

means so well fitted for this manceuvre as the Flycatchers, being
what Muvie would term somewhat ‘‘a dumpy bird.” For its
size, and considering the brisk and blithe expression of most of
the Warbler family, it is certainly rather slow and inactive in
its movements, and is wholly unable to thread the interstices
of the hedges and bushes, with the rapidity of the Garrulous
Fauvet, Hedge Dunnock, and many others. It likes, in fact,
to be in motion as little as possible, and does not use its wings
much. Thus, except when disturbed, it is content to remain
nearly in the same spot the whole day.

Its food consists of small slugs, snails, worms, and flies, for
which it searches most actively early in the morning, and again
towards dusk in the evening, taking its ease in the intermediate
time. This holds good in the middle of summer especially, but
in chilly, rainy weather, it may be observed foraging the live-
long day.

Montagu mentions that the Whin Chat rarely occurs in
Devonshire and Cornwall, counties, it may be observed, which
are never visited by that prince of the British choristers of the
woods, the Brake Nightingale. I believe, however, that the
Whin Chat is plentifully, though not very equally, distributed,
over every other part of the kingdom. Its family cares over, it
takes its leave of us in October. Brwicxk supposes that it re-
mains in the southern counties, but in this he is certainly mis-
taken. Neither Serpy, Montacu, nor Mup1e—high autho-
rities in such matters—state the time of its departure. [ should
be inclined to say, the middle of October, but it is not very
regular in its time of departure, and appears to be much in-
fluenced by the weather. In very mild autumns, I have met
with it so late as the beginning of November. My correspon-
dent, Mr. H. Bartow, of Cambridge, informs me, that during
the remarkably mild winter of 1833, he observed the Whin
Chat hopping about, near some furze bushes, on a common, in
his neighbourhood. He supposes that these individuals must
have wintered in Britain, as he observed them each time near
the same spot. They wereas brisk and lively asin midsummer,

THE STONE CHAT. 45

and perhaps more so, being incited by the cold to activity.
They were never heard to sing.

Mr. Bartow remarks :—* It is somewhat singular, that
though I visited the common almost every clear day in January
and February, yet I never observed the Whin Chat but twice,
and each time singly. First, on the 15th of January, and
afterwards, on the 20th of the following month. These two
individuals (were they two?—perhaps the same bird might
have been observed twice) must have spent the winter in Bri-
tain, but where can they have quartered themselves, and why
did they not remain in their summer haunts ?”’

It is probable that they resorted to the warm and sheltered
downs of the southern counties, where it is supposed that a
few remain every year, after the departure of their brethren.

Stone Cuat, Sazicola rubicola, Becust.

Bird of the desert, I too have a song,
A hymn of joy, as I travel along:
The fairest flowers that my pathway adorn,
Spring up in the shade cfsome rankling thorn.
Strains of thanksgiving and praise be mine,
For blessings more lofty and lasting than thine.
My spirit is glad while I listen to thee;
There are songs in the wilderness also for me.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Motacilla rubicola, LINN. Syst.—Sylvia rubicola, LATH. Ind. Orn.—
Saxicola rubicola, Becust. Naturg. Deut.—SELByY’s Br. Orn.—Stone Chat,
SELBY’s Br. Orn.—MuptIkr’s Feath. Tribes.—Analyst, No. 13.

CLosELy as the Stone Chat resembles the other British
members of the genus Savicola, in most of its habits, and also
in general appearance, yet it differs in this particular, that it
remains in Britain throughout the year, whereas the others
are periodical visitants, arriving in spring, and departing in
autumn. Like the Whin Chat, it frequents open commons,

46 THE STONE CHAT.

abounding with furze. It is not so handsome a bird as the
Fallow Chat, but has a much livelier and brisker expression
than the Whin Chat. I believe it is met with throughout the
kingdom, but, like the rest of the genus, always remains
single, or in pairs. I am inclined to favour the supposition of
Monraceu and Sexsy, that a partial migration takes place in
autumn. The latter Ornithologist is of opinion, that the
young birds leave their summer haunts, on the approach of
winter, while the adults remain in the same spot throughout
the year. Be this as it may, certain it is, that many of the
Stone Chats, in the midland counties, do disappear in winter.
It is probable, however, that they never leave the country
entirely, but merely resort to the warm and sheltered downs
in the southern counties, where they pass the inclement
seasons.

In Derbyshire, I have chiefly met with the Stone Chat near
Boilston, and likewise in the neighbourhood of Bentley Carr.
It is abundant also in many parts of Staffordshire, frequenting
extensive moors and furzy commons, where it breeds. Its
habits are extremely similar to those of the Whin Chat, and
the haunts of the two species are nearly the same. In some
parts of Derbyshire, I have heard it called the ‘ Furze
Bunting,” though its habits and general appearance certainly
do not warrant the appellation. But the Corn Bunting
(Emberiza miliaria) which is the Bunting with the vulgar, is
not met with in my neighbourhood, and therefore, I suppose,
to supply the vacancy, the Stone Chat comes in for the name
of Bunting! But we may make great allowances for the errors
of the vulgar, when we find scientific Ornithologists upholding
such names as “ Goat-Sucker,” ‘‘ Hedge-Sparrow,”’ ‘* Reed
Wren,” and others equally absurd and erroneous. Such
designations are not only unscientific, but they serve to per-
petuate vulgar errors, and should, therefore, never find a place
in the catalogue of the philosophic Ornithologist.

The song of the Stone Chat is very similar to that of the

THE STONE CHAT. 47

Whin Chat, being soft, rather low, and sweet. But al-
most any notes would sound sweet in those bleak moors,
which are the peculiar haunts of this bird. In my opinion,
there is little intrinsic merit in the desultory strains of this
bird, and it is probable, that were it brought into competition
with the Hedge Dunnock, or any of the humbler songsters of
more frequented places, its song would be considered but a
sorry performance. It sings either perched on the top of
a furze bush, or hovering over it on the wing. The latter
habit is more frequently observed in this bird than in the
Whin Chat, but neither of them either mount high, or remain
long on the wing, while singing.

It pairs early in March, and commences building towards
the end of that month; and from the time of pairing to the
hatching of the eggs, it makes itself particularly conspicuous,
either pouring forth its melody from the top of the bush, or,
as before mentioned, hovering over it, in the manner of the
Whitethroated Fauvet. The nest is situated near the bottom
of the furze, and occasionally, though very seldom, in a hedge,
adjoining a furzy common. It is composed of moss and dry
grass, lined with horsehair and feathers. It is not so artfully
concealed as that of its near neighbour—both in systems and
in haunts—the Whin Chat, nor am I aware that it approaches
its tenement in the stealthy manner mentioned in the descrip-
tion of that bird. But the nests of furze-builders are always more
orless difficult to find, and the birds themselves more or less fond
of seclusion. The eggs, generally five or six in number, are of
about the same size, shape and colour as those of the Whin
Chat, but differ in being speckled, at the larger end, with
minute spots of a reddish brown colour.

About two years ago (I do not remember the day, but I
shall never forget the circumstance), a labourer, knowing that
I was curious in ornithological matters, informed me that he
had found a Bunting’s nest. Now, as the Corn Bunting never
occurs in my immediate neighbourhood, and as no other bird

48 THE STONE CHAT.

of the genus here gets the name “ Bunting,’’* I was in hopes
that the nest of the Corn Bunting had actually been discovered.
On arriving at the spot, however, all my hopes vanished, for
the nest proved to be that of the Stone Chat! The labourer
who conducted me to the place, informed me that he had
always known the bird by the name “‘ Bunting;’” and I have
since frequently heard it so called. The food of the Stone
Chat is the same as that of the preceding species,—worms,
small slugs, and insects. After the latter, it frequently darts
into the air, often uttering at the same time a shrill scream.
When it catches its prey in this manner, it perches, for the
most part, on the top sprig of a hedge, or furze bush. For
some time after the young leave the nest, the whole family,
consisting of father and mother and four or five of their off-
spring, may be seen together, but, when the young birds have
arrived at ‘“‘ years of discretion,” each departs its own way,
and they are afterwards only observed singly.

* The Derbyshire folks call the Yellow Bunting the ‘* Gold Finch,’’ and the
Reed Bunting here goes by the name of ‘‘ Reed Sparrow.” The latter designa-
tion isfar from being confined to my neighbourhood.

THE ROBIN REDBREAST. 49

Genus RUBECULA, Briss. REDBREAST.

Rosin Repsreast, Rubecula familiaris, Buytu.

Come, sweetest of the feather’d throng !
And soothe me with thy plaintive song;
Come to my cot, devoid of fear,
No danger shall await thee here :—
No prowling cat, with whisker’d face,
Approaches this sequester’d place.
Dr. JENNER.*

SyNonyms.—Motacilla rubecula, Linn. Syst.—Sylvia rubecula, LATH. Ind.
Orn.—Erythaca rubecula, Swarnson.—Rubecula familiaris, BLyTH in Field.
Nat. Mag.—Analyst, No. 13.—Redbreast Warbler, PENN. Br. Z00l.—STEPH.
Gen. Zool.—Robin Redbreast, Analyst, No. 13.

Few of the warbler family enjoy a better reputation, or are
more protected by the lords of the creation, than the Robin
Redbreast ; and yet, perhaps, few have less title to our respect,
unless, indeed, excessive pugnacity, and the most deadly ani-
mosity towards each other, be recommendations. But the
evil dispositions of this bird are almost wholly unnoticed by
the ordinary observer, and I believe that few persons, residing
in the country, are aware of its quarrelsome habits, so entirely
disregarded, are even the commonest, occurrences in nature,
save by the professed Naturalist! To the vulgar, the bright
side is alone apparent. And the Robin Redbreast has certainly
many redeeming qualities, and has ever been a popular fa-
vourite in the countries it inhabits, from its familiarity with
man, during the inclement seasons. It is resident in Britain
throughout the year, and long after the summer visitants have
winged their airy course to warmer climes, and left the groves

* These lines, and the continuation of them, which, for want of space, I am
compelled to omit, appear to me to be characterized by that simplicity and love
of Nature, that was ever observable in the immortal discoverer of vaccination.

E

r

50 THE ROBIN REDBREAST.

almost songless, the Robin Redbreast cheers us during the driz-
zling rains of ‘‘ semi-suicidal November”’ and the dreary blasts
of stern winter, with its soft, mellifluous, and melancholy
strains. In summer, when the woods resound with the notes
of a thousand voices, the humble song of our little chorister is
little noticed, and still less admired; but, in lack of other
music, its notes sound remarkably sweet, and in autumn espe-
cially, they seem to ‘ breathe a delightful melancholy around.”

When the frost begins to relent on the ground, and the ice
to melt, the Robin Redbreast gradually withdraws itself from
the hospitable mansion, and the humble threshold of the cot-
tager, and betakes itself to the budding woods, where it joins
the vernal chorus. It now loses much of its familiarity with
man, and its habits become fully as shy and secluded as the
rest of the sylvan choristers. Still, however, though it seldom
enters our houses during the summer months, yet it evinces
its attachment for the dwellings of man, by frequenting,
chiefly, such woods as are in the neighbourhood of them.
Thus, if you enter the heart of an extensive wood, you are not
likely to meet with it; but as you advance to its skirts, and
especially where there are houses, you are sure to be saluted
with its ‘“‘ wood-notes wild.””? Like the House Sparrow, it is
not met with in uninhabited places, bleak moors, extensive
commons, &c., but occurs, and that plentifully, near the dwell-
ings of man,

Thus far, certainly, it has claims on our protection; but
when, on the other hand, we look to its pugnacious and re-
lentless habits, its revengeful and vindictive propensities, one
would almost feel inclined to close one’s door against it in the
time of need. The whole summer is spent in quarrelling, and
this warfare is carried on without regard tu either sex or age.
Like game cocks, the young Redbreasts begin to fight as soon
as they leave the nest; nor do they pay more respect to their
own relations, nothing being commoner than to see the adults
pursuing even their own offspring, with unrelenting ardour,
amid the very bushes perchance, where, but a few days ago,

THE ROBIN REDBREAST. 51

they had been so fondly cherished and protected in the nest.
So much for the parental affection of this apparently lovely
and innocent bird. But, kind reader, if you will only have
patience, I can tell you some more tales about your favourite :
—tales, too, which you might verify any day with your own
eyes, if you would just take the trouble of strolling through
the grove adjoining your house, in summer.

My esteemed correspondent, Mr. Briyru, says he has seen
two of these birds fight in his garden until one was killed ;
and though I have never known their battles come to that ex-
tremity, yet I have, on many occasions, observed them skir-
mishing with such relentless ferocity, and unabated ardour,
that had I not interposed, fatal consequences must inevitably
have ensued to one party. On one occasion, especially, I re-
member to have found two of these birds engaged in such
glorious conflict, under a laurel bush, that neither of the com-
batants observed my approach; or at all events they heeded it
not, and both of them fell into the hands of the “ prying
Naturalist.” On putting them into a cage, capacious enough
to have held a dozen birds of a more peaceful nature, to my no
small surprise they renewed the combat as fiercely as ever. |
now released one of my prisoners, and each of them instantly
poured forth its song in defiance of the other—the one within
the wires, the other at full liberty. The next day I set my other
captive at liberty, and, on the evening of the same day, found
the champions again at their post, fighting each other “ tooth
and nail.”” I now separated them for third and last time.
This is what one would call carrying the spirit of revenge
rather too far. The organ of Destructiveness must be very
fully developed in this bird.

I have often taken advantage of the extreme pugnacity of the
Robin Redbreast, for the capturing others of its species. The
method alluded to is as follows :—if you tie a Robin Redbreast,
by the leg, inside asmall cage, and leave the door open, many
minutes will not elapse before another of its kind, attracted by
its fluttering, approaches the cage, hops round it two or three

E 2

52 THE ROBIN REDBREAST.

times, uttering its note of menace, and, lastly, boldly rushes
into the cage, and enters into close combat with the unfor-
tunate captive. How the battle might terminate, if the birds
were left to themselves, I know not, but, suffice it to say, that
the new comer may be captured, and, in his turn, be tied to
the cage, as a lure for its brethren. But it is unnecessary even
to use a cage for this purpose. The birds may be tied, as soon
as caught, to a stake, or anything that is at hand. For the
Robin Redbreast, when intent on destroying one of its fellow-
creatures, is little mindful of any danger that may threaten
itself. Whether or not that dreadful enemy to birds, the wily
cat, would have any influence on them at such times, I am
not aware, but, so far as I have observed, man has not. It
may also be captured by smearing the edges of a vessel filled
with hemp or canary seed, with birdlime, but this is apt to soil
its delicate plumage to such a degree, that the bird is scarcely
“‘ fit to be seen’”’ afterwards. If it were worth while, how-
ever, it might be wiped off with sand ordry earth. There are
many other ways of capturing the Robin Redbreast, but these it
is unnecessary to detail, for, whatever excuse there may be for
keeping other birds in cages, there surely can be none for con-
fining this, as it may be both seen and heard at all times and
all seasons, with very little trouble-—While it requires the
enthusiasm of a Witson, an AupuBoN, a Montagu, or a
MupItE, to investigate the habits of the feathered inhabitants
of the rock, the mountain, the swamp, and the river, the ways
of our familiar songster are always open to the view of the
most careless observer. And this it is which has caused it to
become so general a favourite, in all the countries it visits or
inhabits.

The song of the Robin Redbreast is not very loud, but is
remarkable for its sweet, soft, and melancholy expression. In
summer, as I have before 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

THE ROBIN REDBREAST. 53

young of the year. Nor dol ever remember to have heard
the adult bird singing, in its natural state, during the in-
clement seasons. But when confined to the house, or in a
cage, both old and young wiil carol away “‘right merrily.” In
sweetness and softness, I think the song of the Robin Redbreast
is unexcelled by any of our other sylvan choristers, though,
as a whole, it is surpassed by many. Witness, for instance—
leaving the Brake Nightingale, the “leader of the vernal cho-
rus” out of the question—the ethereal strains of the Garden
Fauvet, the Blackcapt Fauvet, the Wood Lark, 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 humble favourite.

The localities in which the nest is found, are very numerous.
Authors mention, that it commonly chooses the roots of a bush
or tree, in well shaded woods. But I have seen it, at least as
frequently, in holes of walls covered with ivy, in ivy-clad
trees, in the thatched roofs of outhouses, and occasionally,
though very seldom, at the top of a low bush. The nest con-
sists, for the most part, of moss and sticks, and sometimes
oak leaves, exteriorly, and is lined with horse hair, and, accord-
ing to some, with feathers. The latter, I think, I have never
known to enter into its composition, but I cannot now speak
positively on this matter. The eggs are from five to seven in
number, of a dusky ash colour, mottled with reddish brown
spots. This is the usual tint, but I have seen specimens of a
pure white, and others of a tawny red colour. They are not
very subject to variety, and I consider those mentioned above
to be of extremely rare occurrence. For figures of the egg of
this bird, I refer my readers to HEw1tson’s beautiful and cor-
rect British Oology, No. 24, for November, 1835.

The Robin Redbreast conceals its nest with great care, and
this is especially the case with regard to the grove-builders.
It is at all times a difficult matter to discover it, and indeed the
only way to succeed, is to watch the female to the nest. For
this purpose you must, when you know whereabouts the nest

54 THE ROBIN REDBREAST.

is, dig up a small piece of soil with a spade, or place a few
worms in an open spot. ‘Then carefully concealing yourself
behind a thick bush, the parents will shortly be attracted, by
the delicious fare you have laid for them, and will carry off
the greater part to the nest ; by tracing them with your eye,
you will generally succeed in your purpose. Of course this
can only hold good in cases where the young are hatched,
though sometimes, when the female is sitting, the male will
carry food to her. Ina few instances, I have known the nest
to be so successfully concealed, that, even when I had observed
the female fly from the nest, I have, after a long and close
search been obliged to go away without finding it; and have
discovered it a few days afterwards, by mere chance, when
strolling near the spot. Those birds which build in the woods
are always much shyer than the wall breeders, and those which
make their nests near houses, often choose a very open and
unsequestered situation. The structure itself, also, is less
warm and neat, as the shelter, afforded by a hole in a wall
or thatched roof, sufficiently atones for all such defects. <A
nest which I once found at the top of a low bush—rather a
rare occurrence — exactly resembled, in composition, those
which are built on mossy banks, or at the roots of trees.

I once exchanged the eggs of this bird for those of the
Hedge Coalhood, and was anxiously awaiting the event of so
singular an experiment, when, to my great mortification, the
merciless gardener, regardless alike of the feelings of the pa-
rents, and of my experiment, in an evil hour carried off both
nest and eggs, doubtless exulting the while at the signal benefit
he had conferred on next year’s crop of fruit. I think there
can be no doubt, but that if these eggs had been hatched, the
Robin Redbreasts would have been able to rear them; and am
the more inclined to this opinion, from some other experiments
that I have, at different times, made in the same line. On
more than one occasion, I have exchanged the eggs of this
bird for those of the Chaffinch and Whin Linnet, and the
young have been hatched and reared successfully, on both

THE ROBIN REDBREAST. 55

sides. It is very interesting to observe these young Finches
and Linnets following their slender-billed parents, after they
leave the nest; but, though the imposture apparently goes un-
perceived for a time, the young and old birds part company
much sooner than they would have done, had the affairs been
carried on in the usual manner. Such experiments clearly
prove, however, that success in rearing young birds, depends
rather on the quantity than the quality of the food adminis-
tered. The manner of feeding is also of great importance.
But I confess that I am no adept in the feeding and rearing of
young birds, having neither time nor inclination for such a task.
And I would rather watch the habits of one bird in its native
haunts, than possess fifty in confinement, as, in my opinion,
neither song nor anything else, can compensate for the gene-
rally dull and tame plumage, and still duller spirit, of cage
birds. That others think very differently, is manifest, from
the great attention that is paid to birds in a state of confine-
ment. They are, truly, charming creatures, wherever they be,
and great allowances may be made for confining them in large
towns and cities, but in the country, where every wood, field,
river, and swamp, teems with the delicate forms and charming
melody of the feathered tribes, there can be no excuse for de-
priving them of their liberty.

The notes and chirps of the Robin Redbreast are so extremely
numerous and varied, that it would require the patience of Job
to enumerate even half of them. Nor do I consider it of much
use to attempt to describe the notes of birds in writing ;
because, in the first place, there are no consonants in the notes
of birds, and secondly, almost every one would give them a
different sound,—that is, no two persons would agree as to the
sound of most of the notes of birds. Who, for instance, could
form any idea of the song of the Brake Nightingale, from the
words given by Becusrein in imitation of it? In my
description of that bird, I intend to give a specimen of its
notes, as they stand in BecustE1n’s Naturgeschichte der Vogel
Deutschlands, and I ask my readers, what idea of the strains

56 THE ROBIN REDBREAST.
of the Brake Nightingale could be obtained from such a
table ? ‘

As soon as many-coloured autumn, with its golden tints,
begins to shed its leaves, the Robin Redbreast quits its
sequestered haunts in the woods, and once again approaches
the parlour window, and the cottager’s brick floor, to seek that
sustenance which the wood and the garden are now barely
able to supply. When it has once gained admittance, it is
unwilling again to trust itself to the dreary blasts of winter,
and is content to make the dwelling of man its hyemal retreat.
But, though its wants are here fully provided for, yet it is by
no means freed from the dangers and calamities incident to
this nether world. Such evils are twofold. First, then, it is
at all times liable to become the prey of fierce and relentless
Grimalkin, and secondly—for which the bird alone is
answerable—it may invade the sacred territory of the house-
hold gods, and destroy itself by flying into the fire. The
readiest method of preventing the occurrence of such mishaps,
is to cage such individuals as may place themselves under our
protection, as long as the frost and snow continue. It may

_easily be preserved through the winter, by keeping it warm,
and feeding it as much as possible on animal food, such as
worms, flies, raw meat chopped small, and the like. The
bottom of the cage should be strewed with fine sand, and, on a
remarkably fine day, it might be allowed to wash. The vessel
which contains its water must be so shaped that it cannot
wash, as by too frequent bathing in winter, it is apt to kill
itself. As soon as it has washed, the basin must be removed.
With this treatment, it will live in good health as long as the
severe weather continues ; but, no sooner does the frost begin
to relent on the ground, than it becomes impatient of confine-
ment, and shortly dies, lacking its natural food, and panting to
join the vernal chorus. Therefore I hope, kind reader, that on
the first mild day in March, you will release your little cap-
tive. Scarcely has he reached the nearest tree, than he will
pour forth his soft and sweet warble, thanking you for your

THE ROBIN REDBREAST. 57

kind attentions in time of need, and for his delivery when he
no longer required your support. In a cage, it frequently
sings throughout the winter. Its best food in confinement is
bruised hemp seed and bread, mixed with boiling milk, which,
however, must be strained off before the mess is placed before
the birds, as otherwise it is apt to scour them.

In summer, the food of the Robin Redbreast consists almost
entirely of worms, and also different kinds of insects and grubs.
It takes the precaution of beating the worms to death before
it devours them, and the necessary delay dependent on this
operation, is frequently the cause of a violent dispute. I have
seen two individuals of this pugnacious species, tugging might
and main at a large worm, one at each extremity, until the
body of the unfortunate reptile, unable to stand such harsh
usage, snaps in sunder, leaving the combatants each with a
fair share of the spoil! In long and dry summers, when the
worms dive deep into the soil for the sake of moisture, it
also helps itself largely to red currants, and occasionally,
though not very often, feeds its young with them. Few of the
best authorities on these matters take any notice of this habit,
but it has not escaped the observation of my intelligent friend,
Cuartes Liverpoot, Esa., M.D., who says :—‘‘I have al-
ways found the Robin Redbreast remarkably fond of fruit, and
especially of red currants ; but have never known it subsist so
exclusively on fruit, as during the present remarkably hot and
dry summer. Perhaps this is caused by the extreme difficulty
with which worms and grubs are found after a long continu-
ance of sultry weather ; I cannot find that any of the ornitho-
logical writers of the present day have noticed the fact of its
eating fruit at all, but I doubt not it has long been familiar to
you.”

The Robin Redbreast possesses many peculiar habits. In
advancing along the ground, it proceeds not by a continuous
series of hops, but hops two or three times, darts its bill close
to the ground, halts suddenly, and tosses up its head into the
air, as if startled at something it had met with in its progress ;

58 THE ROBIN REDBREAST.

and so on. It does not condescend to be constantly picking up
minute insects on the ground, like the Hedge Dunnock, but,
no sooner does it spy a worm, than it darts upon it with a
shuffle of the wing, as is the habit of the Garden Thrush, Gar-
den Ouzel, and others of the Thrush family. It has also a kind
of bowing motion, accompanied by an upward flirt of the tail,
and a loud ¢si#, tsit. Two males may often be seen singing by
turns on different trees, the one taking up the strains the instant
the other ceases. When the first severe frost sets in, the Rebin
Redbreast soon begins to droop, ruffling up its feathers, uttering
a plaintive chirp, and looking in at the parlour window, for
food, and shelter from the wintry blast. If this be refused, it
not unfrequently falls a prey to the severity of the weather,
and, during long continued frosts, I have found as many as six
or seven, in asingle day, lying dead near lanes, under hedge-
rows, and in the neighbourhood of houses.

This bird is by no means easily disturbed on its nest, and,
especially when this is built in holes of walls, it will frequently
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. Liverproo. informs me (in a letter dated Oct. 14,
1835), 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,”’ continues Dr. L., “‘ I infer that she had been accustomed
to be supplied with food on the nest, by the male.”

Each of these birds has its peculiar beat or haunt, into
which it willsuffer none but its own mate to enter. ‘‘ A Robin
Redbreast ” says Mr. Biyru, ‘that frequents a limited district
in my garden, is amazingly tame, following us about for food,
which he takes readily from the hand. Another, which occu-
pies another part, is less so, but he also comes to be fed. Of
course in my limited domain, the feathered race are much en-
couraged, so that we have plenty of pensioners, and not a few

THE ROBIN REDBREAST. 59

of those impudent creatures, the House Sparrow. Now one
of these Robin Redbreasts will descend among a flock of House
Sparrows, and put them all to flight in an instant; and some-
times both the former will together attack the House Sparrows,
and then fall to fighting themselves.—That the two should act
in concert against the House Sparrows is curious.” In my
neighbourhood, all the Robin Redbreasts are very tame in
winter, but, during the summer months, the adults become
extremely shy, though the young of the year will freely feed out
of the hand at all times. When sitting out of doors, it will
perch on the back of your seat, or on your shoulder, and, if you
happen to be writing, will frequently take greater liberties with
your escritoire than you are willing to allow, throwing about
the pens and pencils, and annoying you to the best of its
power. Yet, for all this, I never could find it in my heart to
drive the sweet creatures away, but rather, on the contrary,
repaid them good for evil, giving them a fly or other insect, or
some crumbs of bread. I was not, however, at all times ready to
bear their familiarities in good part, and, when they came to
search my hand for food, I would offer them a wasp. They
soon manifested their disapproval of so gross an insult, and flew
off in evident displeasure.

This bird is rather subject to variety, and is met with more
or less white. Professor T. Grirritus, of the Royal Institu-
tion, informs me that he has seen one pure white, in a private
collection in London. Another, with white wings and tail, has
lately been observed in this neighbourhood. The young birds
have the breast mottled, and do not acquire the red on the throat
till after the autumnal moult.

60 THE TREE REDSTART.

Genus PHCENICURA, Swarins. REDSTART.

Tree Repstart, Phenicura albifrons, Buyru.

In yon bright world, th’ angelic throng
Sing, day and night, their heavenly song ;
From earth let feebler notes arise,
To join the chorus of the skies.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SynonymMs.—Motacilla pheenicurus, Linn. Syst.—Sylvia pheenicurus, Latn.
Ind. Orvn.—Pheenicura ruticilla, SWAINSON.—SELBY’sS Br. Orn.—Pheenicura
albifrons, BLyTH.—Redstart Warbler, PENN. Br. Zool. STEPH. Gen. Zool.
—Tree Redstart, Analyst, No. 13.

Tue Tree Redstart is tolerably plentiful in every part of
England, except in Wales, where, according to Monracu, it
rarely occurs. It arrives towards the commencement of April,
and is soon spread over those parts of the kingdom where it is
observed at all. Inthe north of Scotland, I believe it is con-
sidered a rare bird, and it is nowhere so abundant as in the
raidland and southern counties of England. In Derbyshire, it
is very abundant in its peculiar haunts, and is known to the
common people by the names “ Redtail,’’ “‘ Firetail,”’ ‘‘ Brand-
tail,’ and other appellations derived from the colour of its tail.
On its first arrival, it makes itself known by perching on lofty
trees—usually pollards—and pouring forth its sweet strains, in
order to attract the attention of the gentler sex. After it has
selected a mate, it sings in much less conspicuous situations,
and it is little seen, except by the prying Naturalist. And he,
too, must go very cautiously to work, or he will have little
chance of observing the habits of a bird of so secluded and shy
a nature.

It is most commonly met with in districts which abound with
walled orchards, decayed trees, deserted outhouses, and old

THE TREE REDSTART. 61

walls. Its partiality to old walls is so striking, that it was
named by Burron—a Naturalist of little real merit—‘‘ Ros-
signol de Murailles,” or Wall Nightingale. But how absurd to
call a bird a Nightingale, which has no other resemblance to
that genus, than by being a good songster! TEMMINCK ac-
cordingly discarded the name given by the French writer—for
I will not call him a Naturalist—and called it the ‘‘ Becfin de
Murailles,”’ a perfectly proper appellation, according to the
system of that Naturalist. ButI find myself entering unawares
on that subject, which I had intended studiously to avoid in
this work. Leaving, therefore, the systematic portion of our
subject to a future opportunity, let us proceed with the investi-
gation of the habits of this interesting woodland chorister.

The song of the Tree Redstart is remarkably soft and melo-
dious, though somewhat desultory. The nest is situated in
the hole of a wall or decayed tree, also in the thatched roofs of
unfrequented outhouses, and has even been found, like that of
the Robin Redbreast, in an unused watering-pot. During the
past summer, also, two or three instances of its building in
flower-pots, have come to my notice. It does not appear, like
the preceding species, to be partial to ivy-clad trees and walls,
but I have more than once found its nest amongst the herbage
on the walls of Tutbury Castle,—distinguished in history by
Mary Queen of Scots having for some time been confined
therein. The nest consists mostly of moss exteriorly, and is
lined inside with horse-hair and feathers. The eggs, from five
to eight in number, are of a taper shape, and pale blue colour.
The shell is generally very thin and easily broken, in this
differing essentially from that of the Hedge Dunnock, whose
shell is thicker than that of most others of the Warbler family.
The Tree Redstart is a remarkably shy species, and is said by
authors to desert its nest on very slight causes. WittugHBY—
the father of British Ornithologists—in particular, speaks very
decidedly on the subject. He says:—‘ This is the shyest of
all birds, for if she perceive you to mind her when she is build-
ing, she will forsake what she hath begun, and if you touch an

62 THE TREE REDSTART.

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, as I found by experience more
than once.’”’-—Now, though I am by no means prepared to deny
the truth of the statements of WiLLUGHBY in those particular
cases which he relates, yet my own experience has led me to
conclusions entirely different from those drawn by our illus-
trious author. I will relate a few of the instances which have
come to my notice :—

In the summer of 1834, I found a Tree Redstart’s nest in
the thatched roofof an outhouse, containing six eggs. As I
did not then possess a specimen of the nest and eggs of this
bird in my collection, they were forthwith transplanted into
the museum. NHappening to pass the spot on the following
morning, I was not a little surprised to see a Tree Redstart fly
from the very hole where the nest had been built. Astonished
at so unexpected a circumstance, I instantly procured a ladder,
mounted to the nest, and found an egg in the hole, laid on the
bare thatch. The bird of course never returned to the spot
again.—On communicating the above occurrence to my excel-
lent friend, Mr. Hewitson,* he remarked on it as follows :—
“©T have found it quite a common circumstance for a bird
(before the full number of eggs is laid), when robbed of its
eggs, to lay another in the nest; and if the nest is pulled out,
either to lay one in the hole which it occupied, or to drop it
from the branch where the nest was situated.””, Mr. Hewrr-
son says, “I have found it quite a common circumstance for
a bird,” &c.; but I was not surprised that ‘‘ a bird” should
do so, but that such a remarkable instance of boldness should
have been observed in the Tree Redstart. Yet, though it is
undoubtedly an extremely shy species, this coyness is much
less apparent, during incubation, than most authors seem to
suppose.

On another occasion having discovered a nest containing eight

* Author of the British Oology.

THE TREE REDSTART. 63

eggs, in the hole of an old wall, for the sake of experiment I
withdrew six of these. Circumstances prevented my visiting
the spot for upwards of a week, but, when at length J repaired
thither, I found two callow young, in a flourishing condition.
I now added three nestling Whin Linnets (Linaria cannabina)
to the family party. The new comers were a trifle less ad-
vanced than the legitimate offspring, but the whole brood was
fed with great assiduity. In about a week the young Red-
starts left the nest, but the three Linnets still remained. These
were fed as usual, andin due time escaped. I never after-
wards had the pleasure of observing this motley brood, though
I diligently searched the neighbourhood for them.

Again, ina nest containing six eggs, I inserted six pebbles,
carelessly covered with blue paper, at the same time with-
drawing the true eggs. On revisiting the spot some days
afterwards, I found the female sitting on my six pebbles, and
discovered, moreover, that she had laid two more eggs. I
then withdrew the whole lot, with the exception of two of the
pebbles. These I removed after she had sit on them three
days, and gave her, in their stead, five Hedge Dunnock’s eggs,
which she hatched and reared successfully—a tolerably good
' proof that the Tree Redstart is not so easily caused to desert
its nest as is commonly affirmed by book Naturalists. Munir
is of my opinion, and so is Suranry. The latter writer, in his
amusing Outline of the Smaller British Birds, has an anecdote
much to the same effect as one of those related by myself.

But, while the Tree Redstart is thus faithful to its offspring,
it is far from willing to expose itself to any personal danger,
and accordingly quits its nest on the slightest alarm. By
ordinary observers, it is very rarely seen either on or near the
nest, and even the wary Ornithologist may frequently be dis-
appointed in his endeavours to catch a sight of it. During the
past summer, I remember to have witnessed a very ludicrous
circumstance. Wishing to capture, if possible, a female on a
nest I had discovered the previous evening, in the hole of a
wall, I succeeded in approaching my hand within a foot of the

64 THE TREE REDSTART.

nest, when the watchful bird, in its hurry to escape, darted
out, carrying along with it one of the eggs, which had some-
how been fastened by a horse hair to the bird’s leg, or rather
tarsus! The egg was soon dropped, and of course broken.

In the part of Derbyshire where I reside, it mostly affects
walled orchards where the trees are sufficiently old to afford a
convenient site for its nest within their venerable trunks. The
neighbourhood of Boilston—a place remarkable for the num-
ber of its orchards—is therefore peculiarly favourable to this
bird ; and, shy as is the Tree Redstart, it is impossible to enter
any of the Boilston orchards without seeing it. It almost in-
variably chooses the hole of a tree for its nest, but in localities
where decayed timber is scarce, I have found it in the cleft of
a tree, where two branches meet. The spot is usually, in
these cases, well concealed with foliage. I believe it never
occurs on open branches, or in bushes, like those of the Finches
(Fringilla), Linnets (Linaria), &c., though the species is rather
whimsical in the choice of a situation for its structure, and
will occasionally make use of spots which no Ornitholo-
gist would have thought of searching, for the nest of the Tree
Redstart.

The food of this bird consists of different kinds of insects,
and also of caterpillars, grubs, currants, raspberries, elder-
berries, and other animal and vegetable substances. But I think
it is rather an insectivorous than a frugivorous bird, as itis not so
much observed in gardens as in orchards, containing fruit which
are of course unattainable to its tender beak. Though its de-
predations on our garden fruit in no way equal those committed
by the Fauvets (Ficedula, Antiq.), yet, in extraordinary dry sea-
sons, it is obliged, like the Robin Redbreast, to become con-
siderably more frugivorous than is its usual custom. The
temperature has, however, considerably less to do in the regu-
lation of the food of this bird, than it has with that of the
Robin Redbreast. For while the principal food of the former
is worms—which are very difficult of access in sultry weather—
that of the latter consists also of different kinds of winged in-

THE TREE REDSTART. 65

sects, which abound most in warm seasons. Still, however,
during the ardent heat of a long and dry summer, it seems to
require food of a more succulent nature than insects, and, in
defect of worms and caterpillars, seeks to quench its thirst
with the juice of the red currant and raspberry. These the
gardener—ignorant of his real interest—grudges, and accord-
ingly scares his benefactors away. And the country squire, in
a state of equally blessed ignorance with his gardener, but too
frequently issues a general order, that all Sparrows’ * nests
be taken without mercy! But the philosophic Ornithologist,
perfectly aware that the depredations committed by these
“* Sparrows,” are amply compensated by their beneficial ser-
vices, willingly allows them to take such a portion of the
harvest as they may desire, in reward for their labours. And
for my part, I cannot reflect without pity and indignation, on
the sordid views of those individuals who grudge even the
smallest portion of their plenty, to the labourers who have
been mainly instrumental in procuring, or at least in pre-
serving it. Surely the labourer is worthy of his hire! And
this, as a principle, is just as applicable to the feathered as to
the human race.

In confinement, the Tree Redstart is as sullen as it is rest-
less and active in its natural state. Neither BecusTEIn nor
Sweet could succeed in preserving it any length of time, as it
is liable to diarrhea and atrophy. One that I once winged and
put into a cage, refused all sustenance, and starved itself to
death in the midst of plenty. Another that was caught soon
after it had left the nest, devoured almost anything that was
offered to it, but died in a few days, from some unknown
cause. With great care, however, it may be preserved three
or four years; but it seldom repays this trouble, always re-
maining sullen, and singing but little. At the periods of
migration, in spring and autumn, it becomes remarkably rest-

* Under the term ‘ Sparrow” are usually confounded all the birds described
in the present work !

F

66 THE TREE REDSTART.

less, fluttering backwards and forwards at the side of the cage
day and night, almost unceasingly. This disposition lasts
about a fortnight each time, and then gradually subsides.
This restlessness at the time of migration is more or less ob-
servable in all non-resident birds, in confinement, but in none is
it so apparent as in the Common Quail and the Tree Redstart.

When perched, and especially when it alights on a tree, the
Tree Redstart shakes its tail with a rapid and tremulous
motion, and so quickly that it is not always easy to see whe-
ther the tail is moved up and down, or laterally. It is sup-
posed, by an accurate and original writer,* that the name
‘* Redstart’”’ is derived from th’s peculiar habit of shaking the
tail. I should rather incline to the opinion, however, that
start signifies tail. But, be this as it may—and it is probable
that the point will never be satisfactorily settled—the name is
equally applicable, in either sense of the word. The Tree Red-
start departs about the middle of September, at least it is not
observed in the midland counties after this time, but, accord-
ing to authors, it remains in the southern counties till the end
of the month.

“A Tree Redstart,’’ says a correspondent, “ that I once
possessed, and which had been reared from the nest, was so
remarkably tame and familiar, that when its cage-door was
left open, it would hop on my knee or shoulder, and, especially
when hungry, would utter a plaintive cry, and search my hand
for food. If I had nothing for it at the time, it would fly to
any other person who happened to be in the room, and so on,
till it succeeded in attaining its purpose. It seemed more at-
tached to the individual who fed it, than to any one else,
though it almost invariably flew on the head or shoulder of
any person who happened to enter the room. My bird was a
very healthy one, and was never subject to the diseases men-
tioned by Drs. Hanpet, BecusTEin, and others. After I had
kept it about five years, it was starved to death, by an unpar-

* See Feathered Tribes, Vol. i. p. 321.

THE TREE REDSTART. 67

donable act of negligence in its keeper, and to my sincere
regret. .This happened about a month since, and I thought I
could not do better than immortalize my favourite, by trans-
mitting you a short account of it, for your British Songsters.—
Cuar.es Liverrcoot, M.D.”

The above anecdote is a peculiarly instructive one; as, be-
sides its intrinsic interest, it clearly proves that this bird is
not always so sullen in confinement, as is stated by authors.
Dr. Liverroot has since informed me that his pet was a male,
and sang sweetly almost the whole year, and that very fre-
quently, on entering the room where it was kept, after a mid-
night visit to a patient, it would commence singing just as if it
had been mid-day. Another correspondent has lately written
to me as follows :—

“© ] now possess a male and female Tree Redstart, which
were caught in a trap in the summer of 1833. When they
were first brought to me, I had little hopes of being able to
preserve them. On the first day, they refused all sustenance,
and were constantly endeavouring to escape. In about a
month, however, they became remarkably tame, and even
seemed to enjoy their confinement. They are now so ex-
tremely familiar, that they will eat out of my hand, and ap-
pear to be greatly attached to me, fluttering at the side of their
cage as soon as I enter the room. Last spring they constructed
a nest, in a box which I had furnished for the purpose, but,
for some unknown reason, the female never laid. Scarcely
was the nest completed, when both male and female set to
work to pull it to pieces,—a labour effected much sooner than
the building of it. I consider it a remarkable fact, that a
bird naturally so shy as the Tree Redstart, should become so
perfectly contented in confinement, as my birds did. I attri-
bute it, however, entirely to my management of them at first.
I shall be curious to see whether my birds will build again
next year. The male sings both in the day-time and at night,
and is in full song nearly the whole year. Just now (Novem-
ber), however, he is mute.— H. Bartow.”

F 2

68 THE TITHYS REDSTART.

The adult male of this species is readily distinguished from
the female and young, by his forehead being white,—whence
the name Phenicura albifrons. 1 am not aware that the Tree
Redstart is much subject to variety, having never observed any
variation from the usual tints.

Tituys Repstart, Phenicura Tithys, Jarp. and SELBY.

Young wanderers by the mountain streams,
Whose days are all like sunny dreams,
To you, from woodlands far away;
I come, with legend and with lay;
Songs of many a tuneful bird,
Amid your own green valleys heard;
Warblers whose strains are full of glee,
Blithe as your own blithe songs can be;
And tale, and sketch, and song I bring,
Of birds who wave the glossy wing,
And sing their tiny broods to rest,
In the deep forests of the west.

Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Motacilla Tithys, Linn. Syst.—Sylvia Tithys and S. Gibral-
tariensis, LATH. Ind, Orn.—Pheenicura Tithys, JARD. and SELBy’s Ili. Orn.
—SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Tithys Redstart, SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Analyst, No. 13.

Tue Tithys Redstart is a very rare bird in Britain, being
only known as an occasional visitant. It was first discovered
in the south of England, by Goutp, the author of that
magnificent work, the Birds of Europe. As I have never had
an opportunity of observing the habits of either this or the
following species, in a state of nature, I shall be obliged,
however reluctantly, to resort to compilation,—to me an odious
task, though perfectly excusable in the present case. Thus far,

I flatter myself that my information has been original (though

not always new), and in those few instances where the

descriptions are compiled, the selection is invariably made
from authentic sources.

The food and habits of this bird appear, as far as the

THE TITHYS REDSTART. 69

meagre accounts of continental writers will allow us to judge,
to agree in most points with those of the preceding species,
though it is more partial to rocky places. Like the Tree Red-
start, it frequents old walls, and decayed trees, picking the
minute insects from the crevices of the bark. It is more abun-
dant in mountainous districts than in extensive plains, and is,
accordingly, rare in Holland. In Germany,.and many parts
of Asia it is very abundant, but, like the rest of the genus, is
confined to the Old Continent. Brcustre1n observes, that
though it is now remarkably plentiful in Thuringia, it was
considered a rare bird in that district some years back.

Its food consists of flies, caterpillars, and different kinds of
fruits and berries. Its song is said to be very inferior to that of
the Tree Redstart, though it is by no means chary in the use of
it. Itis a gay and active bird, and possesses the peculiar la-
teral motion of the tail, noticed in the preceding article. The
nest is situated in the hole of a wall or rock, often in the lofty
walls of old and deserted castles, or on the timbers of barns.

According to a German Ornithologist, it is seen in great
numbers on chalk hills, and in woods situated on rocks, and
“* frequents towns and villages, perching on the highest build-
ings, towers, steeples, churches, and castles.—It possesses one
quality not common among singing birds, that of singing all
the year, or, at least, whilst in our country (Germany), how-
ever cold and stormy the weather may be.’’—For the descrip-
tion of the plumage of this bird, I cannot do better than pre-
sent my readers with that given by BrcusTeIn, in his ad-
mirable Cage Birds, from which volume most of the preceding
particulars have been extracted.

** Length five inches and one quarter, of which the tail alone
measures two and one quarter. The beak is five lines long,
very pointed and black, the inside and corners yellow; the iris
is dusky ; the shanks are nine lines high, and black ; the upper
part of the body is dark blueish, or blackish grey; the rump is
red; the cheeks, throat, and breast, are black; the belly and
sides are of the same dark colour as the back, but tinged with

70 THE TITHYS REDSTART.

white; the vent is reddish yellow’; the wing-coverts are
blackish, with whitish edges ; the quill-feathers are dark brown,
edged with white, in the secondary this border being so wide,
that it forms an oblong spot on the wings when folded; the
tail-feathers are red, rather inclining to orange, except the two
middle ones, which are dark brown.

‘<The upper part of the body in the female is dusky ash
grey ; the under part ash grey, with a reddish tinge; the bor-
der to the quill-feathers is narrower.

“* The colours of this bird vary during the first eight years ;
the oldest ones, with the exception of the tail and wings, are in
general black, but deeper on the under part than the upper;
the very oldest have a greyish breast.

** Those a year or two old very much resemble the females,
having the upper part of the body ash grey, but the under ra-
ther more of a reddish colour; the quill-feathers have a more
decided border. After two years the depth of the colour gra-
dually increases. Several birdcatchers, and, from them, some
authors, have considered these birds of different ages as differ-
ent species.” —Cage Birds, p. 350.

THE BLUE-THROATED FANTAIL. vi

Genus PANDICILLA, Brytu. FANTAIL.

BLuE-THROATED Fantail, Pandicilla Suecica, BuyTH.

Awake! and sing,
For the joyous spring,
Is hanging green wreaths on the forest trees,
And shedding sweet odours on every breeze,
Wake, birds of song!
Why linger so long?
Wake! wake! and rejoice with our merry throng.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Motacilla Suecica, LINN. Syst.—Sylvia Suecica, LATH. Ind. Orn.—
Pheenicura Suecica, SELEy’s Br, Orn.—Pandicilla Suecica, BLYTH in PaR-
TINGTON’S Cyclop. Nat. Hist.—Analyst, No. 13.—Blue-throated Warbler, LATH.
Syn.—Blue-throated Redstart, SeLBy’s Br. Orn.—Blue-throated Fantail,
Analyst, No. 13.

Tue materials for the biography of the Blue-throated Fantail,
are even more meagre and unsatisfactory than those of the
preceding species. It has only occurred once or twice in Bri-
tain, being, like the Tithys Redstart, merely an occasional
visitant,—probably a straggler. Srxpy mentions that an in-
dividual was shot on a common near Newcastle-upon-Tyne,
some time since. The following particulars are taken from
STEPHENS’s General Zoology :—

« This beautiful species is nearly the size of the Robin Red-
breast : the upper parts of its plumage are greenish: the eye-
brows white: the throat, and fore-part of the neck, are of a
bright azure blue: beneath which is a black border, then red:
the belly, thighs, and vent, are dusky white: the tail is brown,
with the base of all but the two middle feathers orange-red :
the female has the throat white: across the neck a band of
blue, edged with one of black beneath: in other respects she
resembles the male: in some specimens of the male there is a
beautiful silvery spot in the middle of the blue on the front of
the neck: the young do not obtain the blue breast till some

72 THE BLUE-THROATED FANTAIL.

time after leaving the nest; that part is then spotted with
brown, and, when confined, that colour disappears after the
first moult.

“Common in many parts of Europe from Sweden to
Gibraitar ; it frequents marshy places, fixing its nest on wil-
lows :* it is often eaten, and is esteemed very good: it has an
agreeable song, which is often uttered in the night.” The eggs
are greenish blue, and five or six in number. It feeds on
worms, insects, and the like. In addition to the above imper-
fect account of the Blue-throated Fantail, I now present my
readers with a few remarks on the species, which appeared
originally in a Magazine, erroneously cailed the Field Naturalist.
The observations are from the pen of my zealous friend Mr.
BLYTH :—

“The Bluebreast (Motacilla Suecica, Linn.) has always
been classed with these birds (the Redbreasts and Redstarts).
LatHam placed it in his extensive genus Sylvia; and Tem-
MINCK also makes it a Sylvia, placing it between the Redbreast
and the Redstart ; and in the continuation to SHaw’s General
Zoology, where the term Sylvia is, strangely enough, restricted
to the Redstart genus, the Bluebreast is termed Sylvia Suecica ;
in Mr. Goutp’s beautiful illustrations of European birds, it is
called Phenicura Suecica, being still arranged with the Red-
starts and the Redbreast. This beautiful bird has lately been
added to our list of accidental stragglers, and it is probable
that, during their autumnal migration, some are annually com-
pelled by easterly winds to take shelter on the British shores
when attempting to cross from the southern point of Norway.
When first | saw the Bluebreast alive, in Mr. ReNNtzE’s aviary
at Lee, I was not a little surprised to perceive, that the bird
which has been placed by every writer in the same genus with
the Redstarts and the Robin Redbreast, belonged most ob-
viously to a very different group, to the Wagtail sub-family
(Motacilline). Nothing can more strongly show the diffi-

* According to TEMMINCE, in the holes of decayed trees.—N. W.

THE SIBILOUS BRAKEHOFPER. 73

culty of arranging birds from mere cabinet specimens, and the
necessity of studying living Nature, than this placing of the
Bluebreast in the genera Sylvia and Phenicura ; 1 think I may
confidently assert, that no Naturalist who has thus arranged
it, had ever seen the living bird. The tail of the Bluebreast is
partly red, but, with the exception of this very trivial par-
ticular, there is no resemblance whatever between this bird
and the Redstarts. Even in a stuffed specimen, the form of
the head will show its proper situation. The Bluebreast does
not hop, like the Redstarts, but runs about in the manner of
the Wagtails and Pipits; it has a remarkable habit of con-
tinually spreading its tail; and should there not be already. a
genus of foreign birds, in which this beautiful species could be
placed, the term Pandicilla (expressive of the peculiarity)
might be given to it for a generic designation.”—I must here
close my necessarily imperfect account of the Bluethroated
Fantail.

Sus-Fam, II. PHILOMELINA.
Genus LOCUSTELLA, Jounson. BRAKEHOPPER.

Sreitous BraKxenopPper, Locustella sibilatrix, C. T. Woop.

Synonyms.—Sylvia locustella, Latu. Ind. Orn.—Salicaria locustella, SELBY’s
Br. Orn.—Locustella sibilatrix, Analyst, No. 13.—Grasshopper Warbler, LATH.
Syn.—SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Sibilous Brakehopper, Analyst, No. 13.

Tue Sibilous Brakehopper was, I believe, first discovered as

a British bird, by Jonnson, and by him communicated to

Ray, the former having met with it in some of the southern

counties. It has since been frequently observed in the north

of England, and has even been traced pretty far into Scotland.

In Derbyshire, it is not found; at least not in the flat parts of

that county. It is a regular periodical visitant, arriving in the

south by the middle of April, but is not distributed over the
kingdom till the beginning of the ensuing month. By the

74. “THE SIBILOUS BRAKEHOPPER.

older authors it was called a Lark, and afterwards a Warbler,
but its proper situation in the system, appears to be in the
sub-family Philomeline, immediately before the genus Salicaria,
to which it has a direct affinity.

It is very locally distributed, but is extremely abundant in
many places where it is observed. The males—as is the case
with many others of the Warbler family—arrive about ten
days before the female. Previous to the appearance of the
latter, the male perches himself conspicuously on the top of a
furze bush, uttering his singular sibilous note; but after this,
he is seldom seen, though constantly heard. It always fre-
quents the thickest and most impenetrable brakes, and is so
excessively shy, that it is far from easy to get a sight of it,
and is very difficult to shoot.

It has no song, but its chirp is a very curious one. This is
said closely to resemble the note of the mole cricket and grass-
hopper, for which, indeed, it is often mistaken by the common
people. Wuirte, in his Natural History of Selborne, makes the
following interesting remarks on the note of this bird :—

‘« The Sibilous Brakehopper* began his singular note in my
fields last Saturday. Nothing can be more amusing than the
whisper of this little bird, which seems to be close by, though
at an hundred yards distance ; and, when close at 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 grasshop-
per 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 ofa
bird. It is a most artful creature, skulking in the thickest part
of a bush; and will sing at a yard’s distance, provided it be
concealed. I was obliged to get a person to go on the other
side of the hedge where it haunted; and then it would run,
creeping like a mouse, before us for an hundred yards toge-

* In the original, it is called the ‘* Grasshopper Lark ;’’ but I could not possi-
bly introduce so flagrant an error into my pages.

THE SIBILOUS BRAKEHOPPER. 75

ther, through the bottom of the thorns; yet it would not come
into fair sight: but in a morning early, and when undisturbed,
it sings (or rather chirps, for it has no regular song) on the
top of a twig, gaping and shivering with its wings. Mr. Ray
himself had no knowledge of this bird, but received his ac-
count from Mr. Jounson, who apparently confounds it with
the Regulus auricapillus,* from which it is very distinct.” —
4to. edit. p. 46.

_ The note of this bird is thus described by Mr. Biyru, ina
very interesting paper on the British summer birds of pas-
sage, published in the Magazine of Natural History, vol. vii.
p. 341 :— :

“* April 10th.—Heard, for the first time, this morning the long
trill of the Grasshopper Warbler (Sylvia locustella), or, as it is
better named by the peasantry in these parts, ‘the Cricket
Bird,’ or the ‘ Rattlesnake Bird ;’ the former, of course, from
the similarity of its cry to that of the mole cricket (Gryllotalpa),
and the latter (by which term it is here most generally known)
from the equally close resemblance which it bears to the rattle
of the Crotalus (rattlesnake): though it is difficult to imagine
how this should be sufficiently well known (in England) to
give rise to aprovincialname. April 10th was also the day on
wich I heard it for the first time last year. I did not this
season again notice it till the 17th, about which time they ap-
peared in considerable numbers. On the first arrival of this
curious species, it sedulously hides in the very densest furze or
bramble coverts, rarely emits its strange sibilous rattle, and
even then its voice hardly ever seems to proceed from the true
direction. This ventriloquizing faculty (as it is absurdly called)
is well known. ‘The bird can, at pleasure, send forth (as it
were) its voice to the distance of two or three yards; so that,
by merely turning round its head, the sound often appears ‘to
be shifted to double that distance. The same effect is pro-
duced also in the Meadow Crake, and in precisely the same

* Jn the original, reguli non cristati.

76 THE SIBILOUS BRAKEHOPPER.

manner, by a mere turn of the head. As soon as the (errone-
ously called) cricket birds, however, have fixed their abode, and
the females begin to arrive, the males cease for a time to exer-
cise this faculty, and for a very obvious reason; otherwise,
were five or six of them to be emulously trilling in a furze
brake, as is frequently the case, the female would often be sent
in a wrong direction, and might, it is not unlikely, introduce
herself to one of the rivals: but this the males take care to
prevent, not only by ceasing to ventriloquize, but by sitting
exposed on the topmost twigs of the bushes, and rattling so
loudly that they may be heard at a very great distance. They
are then so bold, that, even if shot at and missed, they fly only
for two or three yards, and then recommence immediately, as
if nothing had happened. No sooner, however, are they paired,
than their habit of close concealment returns, and also their
deceptive mode of uttering their cry. Having lately procured
a considerable number of these birds for different friends, I
have observed that they vary somewhat in plumage, some being
much spotted on the breast, while others are spotless, and
the colour of the upper parts also varying a little in different in-
dividuals ; but there is no fixed difference between the plumage
of the sexes. I have often been surprised at the great strength
of the muscles of the leg in this species, which are partly
ossified, as in gallinaceous birds.”

It isa very difficult matter to discover the nest of the Sibil-
ous Brakehopper, so carefully is it concealed amongst the
furze. In the Supplement to Bewick’s British Birds, Mr.
Wineate of Newcastle makes the following observations :—
“* Having long wished to get the egg of this bird, to add to my
collection, I at length, in June, 1815, after much watching,
succeeded in eyeing it to the distant passage on the top of a
whin bush, by which it entered and left its nest. Its curious
habitation I found was built at the bottom of a deep narrow
furrow or ditch, overhung by the prickly branches of the whin,
and grown over with thick coarse grass, matted together year
after year, tothe height of about two feet. Before I could

THE SIBILOUS BRAKEHOPPER. Fe

find the object of my pursuit, I searched until I was wearied;
and at length found that there was no other plan left but that
of taking away the grass by piecemeal, which I was obliged to
do before I succeeded in obtaining the prize.” ‘ The nest,” says
Monraay, “‘is of a flimsy texture, like that of the Whitethroat
Fauvet, composed of dried stalks and goosegrass, lined with
fibrous roots. The eggs are ofa spotless (?) blueish white, four
or five in number, weighing about twenty-one grains. From
the scarcity of the bird, and the artful manner in which it con-:
ceals its nest, it is rarely found; nor has any author noticed it.”
I believe that Montagu was mistaken as to the eggs being spot-
less. Hewitson says, in a work that should be in the hands
of every British Naturalist, that ‘‘ the eggs are four or five, and
very beautiful from the extreme minuteness of the dots, with
which they are closely covered towards the larger end. The
usual time of breeding of this bird, is May and June.” The
young are said to quit the nest even before they are fledged ;
but I should think that this early departure from the cradle, is
probably owing to the nest having been frequently visited, and
I think that, were the birds left to themselves, they would not
make their entry into the world until they were fully fledged.
At least I have found this to hold good with many of the shyer
individuals of the Warbler family. The Sibilous Brakehopper
departs in autumn ;—the exact time is not ascertained. Though
I have seen many stuffed specimens of this bird, in different
collections, yet I do not feel myself qualified to describe its
plumage from recollection, and therefore present my readers
with the details given by Szexsy, in his Illustrations of British
Ornithology :-—

“* General Description.—Upper parts of the body deep oil-
green; the centres of the feathers, except upon the rump,
dusky, or yellowish-brown. Throat white, bounded by a circle
of small oval brown spots. Breast and flanks pale oil-green,
passing into greenish-white on the middle of the belly. Under
tail-coverts greyish-white, the shafts of the feathers being
black, Quills dusky, margined with pale oil-green; tail the

78 THE SEDGE REEDLING.

same, and very wedge-shaped. Legs and feet pale yellowish-
brown. Claws hooked and strong.

“« The female is not distinguishable from the male bird in the
tints and formation of her plumage.”

There is a good wood-cut of this bird in the Supplement to
Bewick’s British Birds, taken from a drawing sent him by
Mr. R. R. Wincate, of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. The coloured
representation given by Sweet, though not scrupulously exact,
is one of the best figures in the British Warblers.

Genus SALICARIA, Setspy. REEDLING.

Sepce Reepiine, Salicaria phragmitis, SELBY.

Thou dost not mock, but copiest well
The Warblers that around thee dwell;
And when the traveller near thee strays,
Thou giv’st him freely all thy lays;
For this, a pilgrim’s blessing be,
Bird of a thousand songs, on thee!
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Motacilla salicaria, LINN. Syst.—Sylvia salicaria, LATH. Ind. Orn.
—Sylvia phragmitis, Becust. Naturg. Deut.—Salicaria phragmitis, SELBY’S
Br. Orn.—Analyst, No. 13,—Sedge Warbler, SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Sedge Reedling,
Analyst, No. 13.

In general appearance, the Sedge Reedling has a great
similarity to the Sibilous Brakehopper, with the exception,
however, of the streak of white which passes over the eye of
the former; the tail of the Sibilous Brakehopper is also more
fan-shaped. But in habits and haunts, the two species differ
entirely—so much so, that in a system founded wholly on
habits and haunts, they could not possibly come together.
And as it is, it has been found necessary to place them in
different genera, though Se.sy has not yet separated them.

The Sedge Reedling is widely spread over Britain, having

THE SEDGE REEDLING. 79

,
been traced tc the northern parts of Scotland. It is, however,
most abundant in the midland, eastern, and southern counties
of England, arriving about the 20th of April; but in some
seasons, not till the beginning of May. Though I believe the
fact is not mentioned by authors, yet I am inclined to think
that the males arrive some time before the females, to prepare,
as it were, their summer haunts for the reception of their
mates. I never remember to have shot a female in the month
of April, but have frequently killed the male so early as the
15th of that month. For about ten days after their arrival,
they skulk about the hedges and amongst the reeds, and remain
entirely mute. At this time, also, they are seldom seen, and
nothing is more difficult than to have a shot at them. By the
first of May, however, all their shyness seems to vanish, and
they are in full song, perching constantly on the top of a hedge
or low tree. Now is the time both to observe their habits,
and to obtain specimens for the museum. But, no sooner do
they pair, than all their shy and secluded habits return, and
little more is seen of them, except by the Ornithologist, for the
rest of the season.

Its favourite resorts are marshy woods, fens, sedgy streams,
the borders of muddy lakes or rivers, or streams flowing
through woods. In such localities it may be looked for almost
to a certainty, as, during its stay in Britain, it abounds in
these and similar situations. With the vulgar—who hear
rather than see it—I have almost invariably found it to go by
the name of the ‘‘ Reed Sparrow,” though it has no one point
of resemblance to the Sparrows. The Reed Bunting also
receives the name “‘ Reed Sparrow.” Thus the Sedge Reedling
and Reed Bunting are, by ordinary observers, confounded
under the same appellation, being, in fact, supposed to be
synonymous. The reason of this is sufficiently obvious. For
while the Reed Bunting perches himself conspicuously on the
topmost sprig of the hedge or bush, the Sedge Reedling is
sedulously concealed beneath the foliage, singing all the time.
It is merely this simple fact which has caused the confusion.

80 THE SEDGE REEDLING.

Every one knows the Reed Bunting ata glance, but, of the
Sedge Reedling, the song alone is familiar to them, and this
universally passes, with the uninitiated, for the performance
of the former species. Though this circumstance has been
noticed by many authors, yet I can assure the reader that I
have not retailed it from hearsay, but from personal experience.
If a person sees a Reed Bunting, he immediately exclaims,
** there’s a Reed Sparrow!” and if he hears the song of the
Sedge Reedling, he supposes that to proceed from the throat
of his friend the ‘‘ Reed Sparrow.”

Now, though I have all along spoken of the song of this
bird, yet its notes scarce deserve the appellation. It is true
that nothing can be more varied than its strains, but the tone
is harsh, and the whole is uttered in so hurried and confused
a manner, as to leave but a very slight impression on your
organ of Tune; and, when you quit the banks of the sedgy
stream, you have some difficulty in recalling its song to your
recollection. It has been supposed, by some, to possess the
notes of the House Sparrow, Chimney Swallow, and many
other birds, but I have not been able to discover that this is
the case. The bird is a polyglot, but the varied sounds which
it produces, with such unwearied assiduity, appear to me to
be original. It does not, like some bipeds, ‘‘ shine in borrowed
plumes.” But it has, certainly, this resemblance to the
conglomerates of certain compilers of the present day, that it
leaves but a slight impression on the mind, and is of no per-
manent value.

The song of the Sedge Reedling is, perhaps, more heard, by
those who choose to listen to it, than that of any other of the
British choristers of the woods. For it carols from morning
till night, and from the dusk of the evening till the dawn of
day, with little intermission, not ceasing even at noon in mid-
summer, when every other throat, save this babbling one, is
silent. Indeed, it is easy to imagine, that the nature of the
localities which it frequents, would, in a great measure, shelter
it from the ardent rays of a mid-day sun. Often, when I have

THE SEDGE REEDLING. 8l

thrown a stone into the bush where it was roosting,* it would
commence its clatter with renewed ardour, as if endeavouring
to make up for lost time. And if, after it has commenced
singing, other stones be hurled at it, it only flies to a few yards
distance, and instantly commences afresh.

Though there is little melody in the song, yet, on a calm
night in June, I have listened to it for hours together, with
delight little inferior to that produced by the exquisite strains
of the Brake Nightingale. In fact, I think that Ornithologists
admire the song of birds, more on account of the associations
linked to them, than for their actual melody. Thus, that
excellent Naturalist, the Rev. W.T. Bresz, of Allesley Rectory,
Warwickshire, says (in a letter dated Oct. 31, 1835), “ the
Wall Swifts (Cypselus murarius) are charming creatures to my
mind, and I love their harsh scream, perhaps, almost as well
as I do the melody of the Brake Nightingale.’”’ And I am per-
fectly of Mr. Bree’s way of thinking. Any song, or even
scream, from the throat of a bird, has peculiar charms for the
Ornithologist, in the night season; and, at that time, the
several cries of the Peewit Lapwing, Meadow Crake, Common
Gallinule, and Barn Owl, though alike destitute of softness
and melody, are all equally welcome to him, and delight him,
perhaps, as much as the diurnal chorus of the woods. This
may appear strange to the ordinary observer, but the field
Ornithologist will at once comprehend it.

My immediate neighbourhood is tolerably well stocked with
reedy marshes, and at night, throughout the spring, the air re-
sounds with the hurried and confused strains of this songster.
It puzzles me not a little to find out when they take their
repose, as they appear to sing the live-long day, and night too,
to boot. I have actually discovered, that at least some males
do continue singing the whole night ; for in spots where I am
certain there was but one pair, I have visited the place at in-

* This I have also found to be the case with some other song birds, See Arf.
«* Brake Nightingale.”

G

82 THE SEDGE REEDLING.

tervals of an hour, throughout the night, and have always
heard its notes. Hard by, and perchance in the adjoining
field, his neighbour, the Meadow Crake, furnishes a perpetual
thorough-bass, to the shriller strains of the Sedge Reedling.
The Common Gallinule, also, occasionally sends forth a loud
scream, and sometimes, though much less commonly, the
“hoarse gowk”’ drops a “ cuckoo”’ from the lofty elm-tree!
1 have also heard the notes of the Garrulous Jay, Mag Pie,
and some other birds, at night, but this I consider but a rare
occurrence. These have their tales out in broad daylight, and
appear to enjoy a sound repose in the night season. They are
perfectly ignorant of midnight serenades and intrigues, and,
except perhaps in the event of a frightful dream, remain per-
fectly mute during the season of darkness, and, in the morning,
awake to their cackling with renewed vigour!

The Sedge Reedling is by no means nice in the choice of the
nights on which he intends to show forth his musical talents,
and, were I asked, what weather seems most favourable for its
song, I should say, that neither rain, storm, wind, nor any-
thing else, not even the burning rays of mid-day sun, appear to
come amiss to our songster. Go at any hour and in any
weather, in spring and the early part of summer, beside the
reedy marsh or sedgy stream, and you will not fail to hear its
ridiculously rapid strains. To hear the Brake Nightingale, you
must be very particular in the choice of your nights (though it
sometimes sings in the day too), but with regard to the Sedge
Reedling, consult only your own convenience. When once
you have heard its song, you will ever afterwards recognise it
when it again meets your ear, though you may perhaps not

carry away a very distinct reminiscence of the exact notes.
The nest is situated either in a low bush, or amongst aquatic
plants, and willows, and, according to some authors, it is occa-
sionally suspended between three or four reed stems, though I
have not myself found it in the latter situation, and cannot,
therefore, vouch for the fact from personal observation. I can
confidently assert, that, in this neighbourhood, it has never

» ae

a | re

THE SEDGE REEDLING. 83

been found fixed between reed stalks, though I have frequently
known it attached to a bunch of rushes, near the ground, espe-
cially in marshy boggy grounds, which, perhaps, none but the
keen sportsman, or the prying Naturalist, care to enter. We
have, however, no reason to doubt that the nest of the Sedge
Reedling is occasionally, and in some parts of the country,
found between reed stalks, as the fact is mentioned by no less
an authority than Sexpy. And indeed, as before stated, it is
impossible to determine, with accuracy, either the locality or
the materials of nests, from observations made on a single dis-
trict, so widely do these differ according to circumstances.
The structure consists of dry grass exteriorly, and is lined
with the same inside, but of a finer quality, and sometimes a
few horse-hairs. SzLpy mentions moss, as entering into its
composition, but I should be inclined to consider this rather
an uncommon occurrence. It is of slight construction, and
somewhat resembles that of the Whitethroated Fauvet, but is

more substantial. The eggs, from four to six in number, are
of a wood brown colour, mottled all over with very small specks
of the same, but of a darker shade. There is also a deep brown
streak towards the larger end, forming a kind of collar round
the egg. This streak is likewise observable in the egg of the
Marsh Reedling, and in that of the Sibilous Brakehopper. The
eggs vary little, either in colour or size; and indeed } have
long remarked, that aquatic birds, and those that frequent the
neighbourhood of waters and marshes, are much less liable to
varieties of plumage, than the species which inhabit dryer and
more cultivated spots. The same observation applies also to
the eggs of birds. This remark is very strikingly illustrated
at the British Museum, where, amongst the great numbers of
varieties of birds, only one is an aquatic species—the Wood
Snipe (Scolopar rusticola). And even this bird, though ranked
in systems amongst water birds, is not typically aquatic, as it
only inhabits marshes and bogs, and often extensive woods.
The nest of this bird is generally so carefully concealed, that,
whatever be its locality, it is far from being an easy matter to
G 2

84 THE SEDGE REEDLING.

discover it. And often, when I have ascertained that there was
a nest in some particular spot, I have searched for it day after
day, without finding it, and have at length been compelled to
fasten a worm to a bush, or on a willow stem, and then to lie
down on the ground. In this manner, you will seldom fail in
your object, for, no sooner do the parents spy your worm, than
they seize it, and carry it to the nest, which you will now have
no difficulty in discovering. To observe the habits of this bird,
and to gain a competent knowledge of its way of life, it is like-
wise necessary to lie down, amongst the grass and aquatic
plants, as the Sedge Reedling is so extremely shy and timid,
that the moment you enter within its territories, it darts down,
into the midst of the thickest foliage the place affords, and is no
more seen as long as you remain near the spot, though it will
favour you with its song, even if you approach within two or
three yards of the bird. It is true that it may not be very
pleasant to lie down on one’s back, for half an hour, in the
marshy places frequented by these birds, while the Sedge Reed-
ling is—unknown to itself—teaching you its habits and food!
But it is one of the many inconveniences, which the field Orni-
thologist must undergo, in order to become familiar with the
various ways of the feathered tribes. And, though it might
appear preposterous to a common person, quietly to st down in
a marsh, merely to observe the habits of a bird, yet the Orni-
thologist considers it no inconvenience, and indeed scarce be-
stows a thought on his situation, when engaged in studying
the manners of his feathered friends.

The young of this species, like those of all aquatic or marsh-
frequenting birds, quit the nest very early, especially if their
habitation be frequently visited. They are often so young when
they leave it, that they are obliged to pass the night on the
ground, the whole family, both old and young, squatting close
together, like a covey of Grey Partridges (Perdix cinerea), in
order to keep each other—or rather themselves—warm. The
nightly repose of these family groups is often disturbed by wea-
sels, water-rats, and other voracious nocturnal plunderers, and

THE SEDGE REEDLING. 85

few of the birds survive to see daylight. In the nesting season,
I have frequently found a great number of the feathers of this
bird, which had evidently been plucked off by four-footed Orni-
thologists, and, on other occasions, I have actually seen the
quill feathers of the Sedge Reedling—generally of young birds—
in the nest of the water-rat. The nest of the Sedge Reedling is
also frequently plundered of its contents, both eggs and young
birds, and, on the whole, this species has certainly far more to
fear from quadruped than from biped enemies. It is curious to
observe, how carefully Nature has provided against the inordi-
nate increase of any of her productions. The Sedge Reedling,
and other birds of the marsh, can, from their habits of close and
constant concealment, sustain little injury from man, but their
numbers are considerably thinned by water-rats, weasels, and
other vermin. While, on the other hand, the species which
build on the tops of trees, as the Mag Pie, Ring Pigeon, Gar-
rulous Jay, and many others, which are easily attainable to
the human—or rather, in this particular, inhuman—race, are
free from the dangers incident to the marsh-frequenting birds.
And it is by a similar provision, carried throughout the exten-
sive range of animated Nature, that so beautiful an equality is
preserved in every part.

The food of the Sedge Reedling. consists chiefly of worms,
slugs, and aquatic insects of various kinds, which latter I have
occasionally known it seize from the surface of the water, ho-
vering over the fluid. In general, however, it finds its suste-
nance amongst aquatic plants, willows, and low bushes. It is
not in general a remarkably active bird, but sometimes displays
great agility in the capture of its prey. It is easily kept in con-
finement, and may be fed with hemp-seed and bread, mashed
up together, and occasionally flies, spiders, and other insects.
In winter, it must not be allowed to wash, for—as I have
found with others of the Warbler family—this invariably proves
fatal to them. In summer, a basin of water may be left in its
cage all day, bathing in warm weather being as necessary to it,
as it is prejudicial in the inclement seasons. My correspondent

86 THE MARSH REEDLING.

N. D. informs me, that he has found this bird partial to a piece
of mealy apple or pair, in confinement, and especially in
winter; but I do not know that it ever feeds on fruit in its wild
state. Probably any thing of a more succulent nature than its
ordinary food would be welcome to it, in domestication. It
leaves us in the first week in October, though I have occasion-
ally seen it so late as the 16th and 20th of that month.

Marsu Reepuine, Salicaria arundinacea, SELBY.

As some lone bird at day’s departing hour,
Sings in the sun-beam of the transient shower,
Forgetful, though its wings be wet the while.
BOWLES, Sonnet to Time.

SyNnonyms.—Motacilla arundinacea, GMEL. Linn.—Sylvia arundinacea, LatTu.
Ind. Orn.—Salicaria arundinacea, SeELBY’s Br. Orn.—Analyst, No. 13.—Reed
Warbler, PENN. Br. Z00l.—STEPH. Gen. Zool.—MUuDIE’S Feath. Tribes.—Marsh
Reedling, Analyst, No. 13.

Tue Marsh Reedling closely resembles its congener, the
Sedge Reedling, in habits and appearance, but the former is
more exclusively an inhabitant of the marsh and the fen, and
the pale streak over the eye is less distinct. The whole plumage
is also more dingy, though the bird is, perhaps, taken altogether,
handsomer and more lively. According to the accounts of au-
thors, it is only found, in Britain, in the southern and eastern
counties of England, and Se_sy mentions that he has not met
with it further north than Nottinghamshire. But it constantly
occurs in the flat and swampy parts of Derbyshire, though
nowhere so abundantly as the preceding species. It arrives
about the beginning of May, and departs at the commencement
of September, about a month earlier than its congener, the
Sedge Reedling.

Its song bears considerable resemblance to that of the Sedge
Reedling, and it is likewise a serenader, though not so vigilant
a one as the other. The notes are uttered in the same hurried

THE MARSH REEDLING. 87

manner, but are of a sweeter expression, and more worthy
of the name of asong. The nest, which is often mistaken for
that of the Reed Bunting, is fastened between three or four
reed-stalks, with spiders’ webs and lichens. It is composed,
outside of dry grass, lined with grass of a finer texture, and the
seed-bearing parts of reeds. It is generally carefully concealed
amidst a profusion of long grass and aquatic plants, amongst
‘willows, or sometimes—though that is not its usual locality—
under the shelter of a thick bush. The structure is remarkably
deep, so that, let the winds and storm rage as they will, the
eggs and young are perfectly safe from the fury of the blast,
and the female sits as quietly, and is probably as much at ease,
as she would be in the stillest day in summer. The eggs are
from four to six in number, of a dirty green, blotched with cb-
scure patches of brown, and green of a darker hue. Hewirson
has figured it some time since, in his British Oology. The egg
is nearly the same size and weight of that of the Sedge Reed-
ling, and varies little either in tint or markings. The nest is
difficult to find, and requires a long and close search. Two or
three pair breed here every year, and the bird can by no means
be said to be rare in Derbyshire. In many parts of Stafford-
shire also, and especially near Tutbury, it frequently occurs.
I have met with it on the banks of the Dove, but it is less par-
tial to running streams than the Sedge Reedling, more com-
monly frequenting fenny inclosures, abounding with reeds,
rushes, and other aquatic herbs. It is also found amongst
willows, where it frequently nestles, is as fond of retirement as
the Sedge Reedling, but is considerably less shy than the ge-
nerality of marsh- frequenting birds, and admits of a very near
approach. Its habits are, consequently, open to the observa-
tion of all those who choose to study its economy, and mode
of life. It seldom sings from the top of a tree or bush, but,
like the Sedge Reedling, pours forth its rapidly-delivered strains
from amongst the thickest foliage. The young depart early
from the nest, often before they are fully fledged. The young
of the year differ little from the adults, but are of a somewhat

88 THE MARSH REEDLING.

darker colour, and more mottled. The white streak over the
eye is very faint till after the first general moult. The two
sexes are wholly similar, and cannot be distinguished by exter-
nal signs.

The food is the same as that of its congener,— worms, slugs,
and insects of various kinds, which it takes, either amongst
the aquatic plants, on the branches of trees (which it searches
with unwearied assiduity), or hovering over the surface of the
water. The latter method of seizing their prey is, however,
not commonly resorted to, by either of the Reedlings. The
tail is somewhat longer and less wedge-shaped than that of the
Sedge Reedling. Mup1e mentions, in his admirable Feathered
Tribes of the British Islands,* that it occasionally approaches
houses, before it takes its final leave of us, but, though we
have of course no reason to doubt the accuracy of the statement,
yet I have hitherto been unable to verify the circumstance from
personal observation. The bill of this bird is rather longer than
that of the Sedge Reedling, and wider at the base.

* For a notice of this truly valuable and classical work, and also for a specimen
of Mupiz’s descriptions, see the Ornithologist’s Text-book, by NEVILLE Woop,
Esq., lately published.

THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE. 89

Genus PHILOMELA, Swains. NIGHTINGALE.

Brake NIGuHrinGAue,* Philomela luscinia, Swatns.

Beautiful Nightingale, who shall pourtray
All the varying turns of thy flowing lay !
And where is the lyre, whose chords shall reply
To the notes of thy changeful melody!
We may linger indeed, and listen to thee,
But the linked chain of thy harmony
It is not for mortal hands to unbind,
Nor the clue of thy mazy music to find.
Thy home is the wood on the echoing hill,
Or the verdant banks of the forest rill,
And soft as the south wind the branches among,
Thy plaintive lament goes floating along.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Motacilla luscinia, Linn. Syst.—Sylvia luscinia, Latu. Ind. Orn.
—Philomela luscinia, SwaINson.—BLYTH in Field Nat. Mag.—Analyst, No. 13.
—Nightingale Warbler, SrepH. Gen. Zool—MUDIE'S Feath. Tribes.—Brake
Nightingale, N. Woop, in Analyst, No. 12.

Or the habits and manners of the Brake Nightingale, little
is as yet known beyond mere conjecture. The reasons for this
are obvious ; as, besides being mostly a nocturnal bird, it is
one of very retired habits, hiding itself in thick braky woods,
which it seldom leaves. It arrives in the middle of April, and
commences singing about the twenty-sixth of that month, or,
should the season be late and the weather unsettled, as in the
present year (1835), it remains silent until the beginning of
May. Like most other songsters, it ceases singing after the
young are hatched.+ The females—as is the case with many
other members of the Warbler family—arrive eight or ten days
later than the males, at which time the latter commences sing-
ing. They leave us at the end of August.

The Brake Nightingale is a very local bird—that is, it is

* With a few alterations, the following article appeared originally in the
twelfth number of that admirable periodical, the Analyst, vol. ii. p. 394.

+ The Yellow Bunting (Emberiza citrinella) is one of the few exceptions to
this rule,

90 THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE.

only partially distributed over the countries it visits or in-
habits ; thus in England it has never been heard further north
than Doncaster ;* nor does it occur in any part of North
Wales. The limit of its western range is Somersetshire, be-
yond which it has never been met with. The reason of this is
by no means well explained, and indeed it would seem to be
perfectly arbitrary, as some of the counties which are not fa-
voured by its melody, are remarkable for balminess of climate
and softness of air; its favourite food, and the thick tangled
underwood and rank luxurious vegetation, to which it is so
partial, are also at least as plentiful in these parts, as in the
counties to which it chiefly resorts; nor can it be the coldness
of the climate, in the northern counties, that prevents its visit-
ing these, as it is found in much more northern latitudes in
other countries.t It appears, however, generally to prefer in-
land districts to those which are on the coast. Leaving this
yet unsettled question for further investigation, let us now pro-
ceed to consider those points of our songster’s economy which
are better understood.

A small wood near Foston Hall, abounding with underwood
of a rich and luxuriant growth, has, for several years past,
been a favourite spot with a pair of Brake Nightingales, which
there find a safe asylum in a thick clump of firs, situate on a
rising ground; the surrounding parts are somewhat damp and
marshy, which is also favourable for this bird of night. The
spot is, in short, perfectly adapted for a pair—and probably
not more—of Brake Nightingales, and, indeed, I know of no
place so well suited for this bird many miles round; except,

* Since writing the above, I have heard that it has occurred two or three times
near York.

¢ Since this article appeared in the Analyst, Mr. BLyTH informs me that he has
discovered the cause of the partial distribution of the Brake Nightingale. But,
as my friend has not yet enlightened me on the subject, Iam compelled to leave
the above passage as it stands in the original. When writing this paper, I was of
course fully aware that there was a cause for it, as was indeed implied by the
word **seem’’ being in italics, but I then was, and still am, ignorant of that
cause. My excellent friend, Mr. HEWITSON, in quoting the passage to which this
note refers, omitted to put the word ‘*seem™” in italics, thus, unknowingly, per-
verting my meaning.

THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE. 9]

perhaps, a small clump of firs near Doveridge Hall, the seat of
Lord WarTERPARK, which was visited by a pair of these birds
a few years ago: they were, however, soon caught and caged
by a neighbouring bird-catcher, and died from the want of that
food to which they had so long been accustomed—the fate of
by far the greater number that are captured in the course of
the year. Almost every one must have heard and admired the
song of the Brake Nightingale; I will, however, attempt to
describe it for the benefit of those who have not yet enjoyed
that treat. 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, 1 know few songs which are its
equal in sprightliness and vivacity, with the exception, how-
ever, of one part, consisting of three or four lengthened notes,
beginning very 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 Bri-
tish birds, for AUDUBON says it is absurd to think of com-
paring the song of the Brake Nightingale to that of Orpheus
polyglottus.* In my opinion, there is only one drawback upon
the song of our British chorister, and that is, the unconnected-
ness of the strains. This defect is, however, obviated when
several are singing together. Beautiful as is the song, it
doubtless owes much to the time at which it is heard, and the
silence and stillness of the hour. In the words of SHaxk-
SPEARE :—

The Nightingale, if he should sing by day,
When every Goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the Wren.
Merchant of Venice, Act V. Sc. I.
I cannot, however, fully subscribe to this, as I have fre-
quently listened to and admired the song of the Brake Night-

ingale in broad daylight, when the finest choristers of the

* See AupuBon’s highly interesting Ornithological Biography, vol. i. p. U3.

92 THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE.

woods were carolling on all sides. Its strains may be recog-
nised whilst hundreds of other birds are singing,. even by the
most listless observer; nor indeed is it possible to mistake
them, when they have once been heard. That the fact of the
Brake Nightingale singing in the day as well as at night, was
well known to the ancients—though Virett is the only ancient
poet who mentions it—is proved by the following passage,
which occurs in Puiny’s Natural History :—‘‘ This bird, which,
for fifteen days and nights, hid in the thickest shades, con-
tinues its song without intermission, deserves our attention
and wonder.” The term of fifteen days, given by Priny in
the above quotation, is probably not incorrect, for, though the
song does not entirely cease at the end of this period, yet it is
heard much less frequently after the female has commenced
incubation. The young are hatched about the beginning of
June, when the male invariably discontinues his melody;
should the female be killed, or the nest destroyed, the male
again renews his strains, and in places where they abound, as
in many of the southern counties, one or two individuals may
generally be heard throughout the season. These are males
which have either been unable to procure a mate, or have been
deprived of her by some accident.

A rainy night does not prevent it from singing, as I have fre-
quently found from personal observation. It seldom commences
its song in the evening until all other birds are silent, or if it does,
it is only for about ten minutes, when it again ceases. Scarcely
have the Garden Thrushes retired to rest, sounding their loud
and peculiar alarm notes, than Philomel takes up his dismal
tale. It rarely sings on dark windy nights; but if, in this
state of affairs, the moon should appear, it instantly begins
warbling, and, once commenced, almost invariably continues
the whole night, not ceasing till two or three hours after sun-
rise. This I know from actual observation, having more than
once remained out of doors nearly the whole night, purposely
to discover whether the bird or the Naturalist would first be
wearied! If on a dark and windy night it does not sing, it

THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE. 93

may generally be roused by imitating its strains; if this be
done on a favourable night, it will commence instanter, but on
a cold and chilly night it is sometimes very difficult to rouse,
though I have seldom been so unfortunate as to fail entirely.
The shutting of an adjoining gate, the striking of a church
clock, the passing of a cart or coach—if near a road—or even
the hearing passengers walking along the hard turnpike, will
frequently cause it to commence singing! the very incidents
which, one might have supposed, would disturb so shy a bird.
It is, however, probably on the same principle that Canaries
and other cage birds sing when a noise is made, or when they
hear the sound of music. When once our songster has fairly
entered upon his strains, it is extremely difficult to disturb
him. I have frequently, for the sake of experiment, thrown a
stone into the very bush where he was performing, apparently
without producing the slightest effect, though, if the same in-
sult were practised upon him before the song was commenced,
he would probably remain silent the whole night. I have also
approached within two or three feet of the branch on which he
was perched, without his appearing to heed me in the least ;
on making a nearer approach, however, the song ceased for a
few moments, and then recommenced at the distance of about
ten yards off.

When disturbed in this manner, the peculiar guttural note is
frequently emitted, as if the bird was scolding you for in-
truding on his sacred solitude. Little seems to have been as-
certained with regard to this sound. PENNantT says (Brit.
Zool. vol. i. p. 496), that when the young first come abroad,
and are helpless, the old birds make a plaintive and jarring
noise, with a sort of snapping, as if in menace, pursuing the
passengers along the hedge. According to Knapp, (Journ. of
a Nat.) ‘the croaking of the Brake Nightingale, in June and
the end of May, is not occasioned by the loss of voice, but by
a change of note—a change of object.” BrcustTeEiN, in his
excellent Cage Birds, informs us, that ‘‘in anger, jealousy, ri-
valry, or any extraordinary event, he (the Brake Nightingale)

94 THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE.

utters hoarse, disagreeable sounds, somewhat like a Jay ora
cat.” It is much to be regretted, that those consummate
Ornithologists, Montagu, SrLpy, and Muniz, are silent on
this subject. Now it appears to me extremely doubtful, whe-
ther this croaking sound does proceed from the male, as
seems to be the opinion of BecusTEIN and Knapp. At all
events I am certain of this, that it is not made by the male
alone; having more than once heard the male singing in one
bush, whilst the female was uttering its frog-like croak at the
distance of many yards from its mate. Some authors have
supposed that this guttural noise is not heard until the end of
May; this, however, my own experience enables me to con-
tradict, having frequently noticed it before the song commences,
so early as the end of April.

I one night started a Ring Pigeon (Columba palumbus, Linn.)
close to the tree in which the Brake Nightingale was singing ;
the loud rustling of the Pigeon’s wings did not, however, in
the least disturb Philomel in his miserabile carmen, who seemed
well aware that he had nothing to fear from so gentle and
harmless a creature. The Brake Nightingale is by no means
the only bird whose notes are heard in the night time ; there
is one other nocturnal songster amongst the Sylviade (Warbler
family), whose strains, though far inferior to those of the
Brake Nightingale, are by no means monotonous or unpleasant.
I mean the Sedge Reedling (Salicaria phragmitis, Surtpy). If
a stone be thrown into a bush where one of these birds is
roosting, it will—as already observed (see Art. ‘‘ Sedge Reed-
ling ”’)—immediately begin to sing. The other “birds of the
night” are the Fern Nightjar, the Peewit Lapwing, the Mea-
dow Crake, the Common Gallinule, the Barn Owl, the Marsh
Reedling, and occasionally, though seldom, and only on clear
moonlight nights, the Grey Cuckoo. The Ring Duck (Anas
boschas) and Canada Goose* (Anser Canadensis, WILL.) are

* The Canada goose is not a native of Britain, but is almost naturalized in
many parts of England. It frequents the lakes of Deibyshire, and breeds near
the water. It sometimes flies at a considerable height, and in small flocks of
twenty or thirty individuals.

THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE. 95

also—like most of the Duck family—very active and clamor-
ous in the night season. But to return to the subject of the
present article.

The Brake Nightingale, as before stated, is very rarely to be
seen, either in the day-time or at night, its habits being ex-
tremely shy and retired. When forced to leave the tree on
which it is singing, it does not fly across to the tree on which
it intends to alight, but flutters round through the bushes, and
ascends the tree by hopping upwards, thus, in most cases,
eluding observation. My zealous correspondent, Mr. Biyru,
informs me that it sometimes flies close to the ground, in the
manner of the Robin Redbreast. I have never found the nest
of this species (though I have often seen both nest and eggs in
public and private collections), nor, indeed, is it an easy mat-
ter to discover it, as its colour assimilates so closely with the
surrounding leaves, which had fallen the preceding autumn.
It is composed of oak leaves of the former year, lined with
dry grass, and is placed on the ground, in the midst of a thick
brake, at the roots of trees, or under a hedge. The eggs, from
four to six in number, are of an olive brown colour, and nearly
elliptical, They are spotless. Hrwitson has figured the egg
in the twenty-fourth number of his beautiful British Oology,
and Lewrn has given a tolerably good representation of it in
his Birds of Britain.

A friend informed me last summer, that some years ago only
one Brake Nightingale was heard in Kensington Gardens,
which are annually visited by six or seven; and this individual
was at length discovered to be a man imitating the song of
that bird, and who had mingled with the crowd every night,
carolling, as he walked along, the well known strains of sweet
Philomel! All the other birds of the species had been caught
and imprisoned by the neighbouring bird-catchers. I have
also lately heard of a man who travels about the country, gain-
ing a livelihood by imitating the song of the Brake Nightin-
gale, Sky Lark, Garden Ouzel, and other birds! all of which
he imitates so successfully, that, had he been stationed in the

96 THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE.

woods, the notes might have been supposed, even by an Ornitho-
logist, to have proceeded from the birds themselves. The organ
of Imitation was doubtless very fully developed in this person.

Some Ornithologists have supposed that there are two dis-
tinct species—and some, two varieties—of Nightingale, con-
founded under one name. One has been called the Common
Nightingale, and the other the Greater Nightingale. Those who
are of this opinion, say that the latter, besides being larger
than the Common, or more properly the Brake Nightingale,
“‘has a much stronger, louder, and deeper voice; but it sings
more slowly and more unconnectedly; it has not that asto-
nishing variety, those charming protractions, and harmonious
conclusions of the Common Nightingale; it mutilates all the
strains; and, on this account, its song has been compared to
(that of ) the Missel Thrush, to which, however, it is superior
in softness and pureness. The Common Nightingale is su-
perior in delicacy and variety, but inferior in force and bril-
liancy. The Greater Nightingale sings generally in the night,
so that it is the real night-singer ; while among (Common, or
rather Brake) Nightingales this is rather uncommon. Its voice
is so loud that it is almost impossible to bear itina room. It
is necessary to keep it always outside the window, either by
hanging its cage there, or by opening it a sort of passage into
which it may remove.”—Becusrt. Cage Birds, p. 310. Suchis
the account of an eminent Ornithologist,* who, during a great
number of years, kept all kinds of cage birds with great suc-
cess, and from his knowledge in this line, wrote a most useful
and interesting volume, which has gone through many editions,
and from which the above quotation is taken.

It is possible that two varieties+ of Nightingales may exist
in Britain, but 1 think it extremely improbable that two species

* For a notice of the Cage Birds, and for a specimen of the enthusiasm of its
author, with regard to birds, see the Ornithologist’s Texrt-book, p. 15.

¢+ Though a permanent variety is a very rare occurrence in Nature, yet there
are instances of it, as, for example, in the Grey Partridge (Perdir cinerea.)—See
a very interesting paper on varieties, in LouDoN’s Magazine of Natural History,
for January, 1835.

THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE. 97

should have been so long overlooked, when we consider the
great attention that has always been paid to these birds, in
consequence of their superior vocal powers. As to the Greater
Nightingale being the only night-singer, that is quite erroneous ;
the same birds being commonly known to sing both by day and
by night, a fact which was remarked even in the days of Piiny.
The individual which visits my neighbourhood, is both a day
and anightsinger. BrcusTErn draws up the following ludicrous
synopsis of the notes of this bird, in his Naturgeschichte der
Vogel Deutschlands ; or, Natural History of the Birds of Ger-
many ; the dashes serve to point out where each strain begins
and ends :—

“ Tiuu tiuu tiuu tinu—Spe tiu zqua—Ti0 ti0 tid tio tio tio tio
tix—Qutio qutio qutio qutio—Zquo zquo zquo zquo—Tzu tzu
tzii tzii tzii tzii tzii_ tzii tz’ tzi—Quorror tiu zqua pipiquisi—
—Zorre zorre zorre zorre hi—Tzatn tzatn tzatn tzatn tzatn
tzatn tzatn zi—Dlo dlo dlo dlo dlo dlo dlo dlo dlo dlo—Quio
tr rrrrrrrritz—Lii lii lu lit ly ly ly ly li i i HL—Quio didl h
liilyli— Ha giirr giirr quiquio !—Qui qui qui qui qui qui qui qui
gi gi gi gi—Gollgollgollgoll gia hadadoi—Quiqui horr ha dia-
diadillhi !—Hezezezezezezezezezezezezezezezeze quarrhozehoi—
Quia quia quia quia quia quia quia quia ti—Qui qui qui io io io
io ioioio qui—Lii ly li le la la 16 Jo did io quia—Higaigaigaigai-
gaigaigai gaigaigaigai—Quior ziozio pi.”—Naturg. Deut. vol.
lil. p. 514.

I think it would have exhausted the patience of any one but
a German (setting aside Jos, as rather antiquated) to have
composed such a nursery ditty as the preceding! What earthly
notion, I would ask, can such a laboured description give of
the song of a bird? It would be utterly impossible to convey
any idea of it, even by writing down the actual notes, and
playing them on a flute. This has indeed been tried, and of
course failed. At all events, such a table as the above would
not produce a very favourable impression of the song. A few
words more and I will conclude.

H

98 THE BRAKE NIGHTINGALE.

Much as I admire the song of the Brake Nightingale, I cer-
tainly cannot agree with Muniz in the latter part of the fol-
lowing passage, taken from his delightful work, the Feathered
Tribes of the British Islands :—‘<'To hear it in the morning,
especially for the first time, and to be awakened by it upon one
of those balmy mornings in May, when every leaf is freshness,
and every breath young perfume, is indescribable—worth more
than a whole musical festival; but yet it owes much to the
time, and the absence of other sounds.” ‘This clearly proves,
not that the song of the Brake Nightingale is ‘‘ worth more
than a whole musical festival,” but that the organ of Tune is
very deficient in Muniz. <A person with a moderate organ of
Tune, but large Ideality—which I take to be Mupiz’s case—
may admire the song of this or any other bird, but will not be
able to appreciate more definite and scientific strains.

The Rev. W. T. Bret, of Allesley Rectory, thus writes to
me, in a letter dated October 31, 1835 :—‘*‘ We have the Brake
Nightingale constantly among the woods on the further side of
the parish, and occasionally a pair will breed near the house;
but more commonly they stay on the premises here only a very
short time on first arriving, paying us a transitory visit, for one
day, or perhaps two, and then off for the woods.”

The female resembles the male in every respect, but the
young of the year are mottled with yellow.

THE BLACKCAPT FAUVET. 99

Genus FICEDULA, Antiq. FAUVET.

Buackcapt Fauvet, Ficedula atricapilla, Biytu.

Oh! fair befal thee, gay Fauvet,

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 Ouzel’s* mellow lay,

In later hours of flowery May.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SyNoNYMS.—Ficedula, ALDROV.—WILL. Orn.—Ray’s Syn.—Motacilla atrica-
pilla, Linn. Syst.—Sylvia atricapilla, LATH. Ind. Orn.—Curruca atricapilla,
SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Ficedula atricapilla, BLYTH in Field Nat. Mag.—Analyst,
No. 13.—Blackcap Warbler, PENN. Br. Zool.—STEPH. Gen. Zo00l.—SELBY’'S
Br. Orn.—Blackcapt Fauvet, Analyst, No, 13.—Mag. Nat. Hist. vol. viil.
p. 617.

Tue Blackcapt Fauvet is a very common bird throughout
England, but, according to Setpy—an indubitable authority—
is more locally distributed in Scotland; and indeed the rugged
climate of that country is little suited to any of the more deli-
cate members of the Warbler family, though some of them ex-
tend to its most northern limits. The present species arrives
in the middle or towards the end of April, according as the
season varies. Last spring (1835) I observed the first indi-
vidual on the sixteenth of April, and by the twentieth they
were abundant in every copse and wood. I should be inclined,
however, to consider this an unusually early appearance, having
generally first met with it on the twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth
of April. In Derbyshire, it is as abundant as elsewhere, and
it is almost impossible for the Ornithologist to avoid seeing it
in his solitary walks, though, from its shy and retiring habits,
it is scarce noticed by the ordinary observer.

* The Garden Ouzel (Merula vulgaris, Wiu1 ) is here alluded to.
H 2

190 THE BLACKCAPT FAUVET.

Its favourite haunts are thick braky woods, in which loca-
lities it always abounds; it is also a frequent visitant of the
garden, committing considerable depredations on the red cur-
rants, which they swallow whole, and with much appa-
rent satisfaction. And so intent is it on its pilfering, that
this is the best time for observing its habits, as it then admits
of a much nearer approach than at any other period of its
sojourn with us. The raspberries it is unable to swallow entire,
and its bill is often stained with the juice of this berry, when
the bird is shot in the breeding season.

The song of the Blackcapt 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 congeners, 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 be-
fore you obtain a sight of him, as, when undisturbed, he ge-
nerally sings on 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 mean
while, however, for the sake of employment, it will renew its
strains, even though you be standing within a few yards of it.
Indeed all birds of the brake or furze appear to be fully aware
that they are perfectly safe, as long they are under the shelter
of these, and will sing even while you are in the act of beating
the very bush in which they are concealed. This peculiarity I
have especially remarked with regard to the Nightingale (Phi-
lomela) and the Fauvets (Ficedula), though I have no doubt but
it would apply equally to all brake birds, in a greater or lesser
degree.

The present species does not usually sing amongst brakes or
in hedges, nor on very lofty trees, generally preferring the top

THE BLACKCAPT FAUVET. 101

sprig of one of moderate height. Itchiefly frequents small oak
and beech woods, and is also partial to orchards; but in the
midst of extensive forests, it is not found, remaining on the
outskirts of these. Neither is it a bird of the uncultivated
waste, or the bleak heathy common, but occurs most frequently
in gardens and groves adjoining houses, farms, &c.

Though its colours are plain and uniform, it is a very hand-
some bird, and has a brisk lively expression, especially while
singing, when it appears to exert itself to its utmost ; this ex-
ertion cannot, however, be very considerable in reality—if it
were, it could not possibly sing so continuously as it does.
However excited birds may appear to be while singing, I think
the constrained positions assumed by them—and by the Black-
capt Fauvet and Canary in particular—must be more mecha-
nical than is generally supposed. Some author (Muniz, I be-
lieve) informs us that the Blackcapt Fauvet may be incited to
sing, by imitating its strains, in the manner described in the
article Brake Nightingale. I never myself made the experiment,
with regard to this bird, but, though I have no doubt of the
accuracy of the statement, there is little or no necessity for re-
sortirig to such means, as it generally continues its ineffably
sweet and dulcet strains from early dawn till close of day,
leaving little time for you to put in your whistle! While the
female is drawing towards the expiration of her term of incuba-
tion (abouta fortnight), the male sings less frequently and in a
more desultory manner, in this resembling that prince of
British choristers, the Brake Nightingale. And to this period
the remark of the able Ornithologist above alluded to, may
possibly apply.

In confinement, it is a very gay, lively, and interesting
species, is easily preserved, and sings as unceasingly as in its
natural state, and for a much longer period, having then no
incumbrance. It may be fed on bruised hemp seed and bread,
as its ordinary fare, but it is impossible to keep it in health,
for any length of time, without giving ita regular supply of
worms, insects, caterpillars and grubs of various kinds. In

102 THE BLACKCAPT FAUVET.

summer it should also have cherries, raspberries, and currants,
and in winter a piece of mealy apple or pear, or some roasted
apple. With this treatment, it will be both cheerful and con-
tented, singing nearly the whole year, except, of course, at the
period of moulting, when all birds lose their song.

The nest consists of dry grass, or something of a similar na-
ture, and is lined with fine fibres of roots, and sometimes,
though not often, with a few horsehairs. The structure is
very slight, but is firmly and compactly put together. It is
generally situated in a low bush, but frequently also in bram-
bles, thick brakes, and even, like that of the Whitethroated
Fauvet, amongst nettles. It is probable, however, that the
latter is not a very common occurrence ;—at least it is not in
this neighbourhood: but it very frequently builds near the
ground. The nest is also found in gardens, in raspberry and
currant bushes, in which case it finds but little difficulty in
supplying the wants of its offspring, this being, in such in-
stances, effected at the expense of the owner of the garden, who
accordingly issues orders for the destruction of all “‘ Sparrows’ ”
nests !—though I think I may safely affirm, that the death of
any one singing bird, causes the ignorant squire, and his equally
unenlightened gardener, to lose a certain portion of their fruit,
and there would undoubtedly be no fruit, were it not for the
unceasing labours of these lovely little creatures.

The food of the Blackcapt Fauvet, in its natural state, con-
sists of various kinds of insects, which it finds chiefly on the
bark of trees, especially orchard trees; and also the larve of
insects, raspberries, red currants, and probably some other
kinds of berries. In capturing—or rather in discovering—its
tiny insect prey, it exhibits considerable adroitness, and still
more agility, searching every branch and sprig with the utmost
minuteness and rapidity; and, like all birds of the covert, it
threads the interstices of the thickest brakes or hedges—when
it frequents the latter—with the greatest ease and celerity. It
is, in fact, a very lively bird, and in constant motion. Though
this renders it a somewhat difficult matter to gain a clear view

THE BLACKCAPT FAUVET. 103

of it in itstnative woods, yet it makes it a doubly amusing bird
in confinement. If ‘‘ caught young,” it frequently becomes
very tame, feeding out of its keeper’s hand, but when taken
old, it seldom loses the characteristic shyness of the family,
turning its liveliness into aconstant and troublesome fluttering.
It is very partial to bathing, but must not be allowed to do so
in winter, except on very mild days.

I have always found this bird very jealous of any liberties
being taken with its nest. Ifthe nest be visited even once,
before an egg is deposited, it is almost sure to be deserted !
and, even after incubation has commenced, the parents will
not admit any great freedom with their architecture to go
unnoticed. The reader may probably remember the accounts
I have given, in various parts of this volume, of my experi-
ments on the transposition of eggs. These have been extended
to the present species, but with very different results from
those previously recorded. I have taken away one or more of
the eggs, changed them for those of another species, giving the
same number as the bird had laid, and have transposed callow
young of Blackcapt Fauvets, Whin Linnets (Linaria cannabina,
Sw.), and Chaff Finches, of exactly the same age; and in every
instance the result has been, the desertion of the nest. Now,
I do not think that this was owing to the parents having dis-
covered the difference in the number, size, and colour of the
eggs; as, when I transposed the contents of two Blackcapt
Fauvets’ nests, the result was precisely the same. It seems
more probable that the bird is caused to desert its nest, merely
because it perceives that some officious intruder has been med-
dling with its property. And this supposition is greatly
strenghtened by the fact of its frequently deserting when the
nest has been visited but once.

The eggs, four or five in number, are of a wood brown colour,
with a very slight tinge of red. Upon this ground are ill-
defined markings or blotches of the same colour, but of a darker
hue. They are not much subject to variety, but of course spe-
cimens differ somewhat in depth of shade. With regard to its

104 THE BLACKCAPT FAUVET.

size, | have more than once met with individuals of? less than
half the ordinary dimensions.

My amiable friend, Dr. LivErPoot, thus writes to me, in a
letter dated November 5, 1835 :—‘‘ I have at this time two or
three Blackcapt Fauvets flying about my room. One of these
was taken old, in a trap-cage; the others were reared from
the nest, by a neighbour of mine, from whom I lately procured
them. The former is extremely shy and distant, and is con-
tinually banging itself against the window, and its endeavours
to effect its escape are as unceasing as they are fruitless. But
when I hide myself behind an old cupboard which stands in
the room, all three will frequently come down to their food,
and appear perfectly contented, and even happy. On emerging
from my retreat, the two young birds immediately fly upon my
head or shoulder, uttering a soft and plaintive chirp, and the
adult again takes his post in the window, once more to renew °
his fluttering. I think the two young ones are both males, and
if so, I shall fully expect to hear their sweet warble next spring.
If my sulky old bird turns out to be a female, or if it abates not
a little of its present wildness, I shall certainly punish it by
setting it at liberty, as soon as the warm weatherreturns. The
Blackcapt Fauvet would probably answer very well in confine-
ment, if there were some furze branches or thick shrubs and
herbage introduced into a corner of the room or aviary in
which it is kept. I have found all birds to be very partial to
anything of this kind, and more especially the wilder species,
and those that are fond of seclusion. I invariably give my birds
herbage of some kind or other, and was, accordingly, glad to
see the subject noticed in one of the numbers of the Field
Naturalist's Magazine, which you sent me.”

In the female, the crown of the head is of a rusty brown,
instead of jet black, as in the male—a circumstance which
appears to have been overlooked by my generally accurate cor-
respondent, Dr. Liverroot. The female is also a trifle larger.
Both sexes take their turns on the nest, and the male frequently
sings while sitting, by which means the nest is often dis-
covered.

THE GARDEN FAUVET. 105

GARDEN Fauvet, Ficedula hortensis, BLyTH.

While April skies to grove and field,
Alternate shade and sunshine yield,
I hear thy sweet and mellow strain,
And give thee welcome once again.
Come build within my hawthorn bower,
And shade thy nurslings with its flower;
Or where my wreathed woodbines twine,
Make there a home for thee and thine.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SyNonymMs.—Sylvia hortensis, Becust. Naturg. Deut.—LatTH. Ind. Orn.—Cur-
ruca hortensis, SeLBy'’s Br. Orn.—Ficedula hortensis, BLYTH in Field Nat.
Mag.—Analyst, No. 13.—Garden Warbler, STEPH. Gen. Zool.—MUDIE’S Feath.
Tribes.—Garden Fauvet, Analyst, No. 13.

WE are indebted to the venerable Dr. Latuam for the dis-
covery of the Garden Fauvet as a British bird; the first
specimen having been received from Lancashire. Montacu
has since met with it in almost every part of England, and
SELBY mentions having seen it to the north of the river Tweed,
which Monraeu had previously stated to be its northern limit.
It arrives at the same time as the preceding species, about the
end of April or the beginning of May, and disappears in Sep-
tember. It is considerably more locally distributed than the
Biackcapt Fauvet, but is perhaps not less abundant in places
where it does occur, as in the southern and some of the mid-
land counties.* It seems somewhat remarkable, that so com-
mon a bird should have been wholly unknown to British Orni-
thologists before the time of Laruam, though its plain unob-
trusive plumage, and secluded habits, may in some measure
account for the fact, especially as the number of ardent fol-
lowers of Natural History was then so limited. But it is not
a little extraordinary that it should have escaped the notice of
that assiduous Ornithologist, Wuire, as the bird is found to

* I have nowhere met with it so abundantly as the Blackcapt species ; and in
many districts it is much rarer,—E, BLyTH.

106 THE GARDEN FAUVET.

be plentiful in the neighbourhood of Selborne, the field of his
researches.

In Derbyshire, it is not so common as in the south and
south-eastern counties, nor is it so abundant as the Blackcapt
species, but it can by no means be said to be rare. Thus in
this central position—as regards England—we are cheered by
the sweet, rich, and varied strains of the three finest songsters
of the Warbler family—the Brake Nightingale, and the Black-
capt and Garden Fauvets. Of the three, I certainly prefer the
unrivalled notes of the first, and the delightfully sweet and
mellow song of the Garden Fauvet is more to my taste than
the wild and rapid, though clear and joyous, melody of the
Blackcapt Fauvet. In variety and execution, the latter un-
doubtedly takes the lead, but as regards sweetness and mellow-
ness it is inferior. The song of the Garden Fauvet bears con-
siderable resemblance to that of the Garden Ouzel, but is des-
titute of that exquisite richness and depth of tone, which ap-
pear to be almost peculiar to the notes of the latter. Neither is
it so loud, though by no means wanting in power.

It mostly inkabits 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 Naturalist. It generally sings in the midst of the thick-
est and most impenetrable brakes, where it has leisure to pour
forth its exquisitely sweet strains, alike secure from the gun of
the prying Naturalist, and the stone of the idle schoolboy.
Often, however, it appears to abandon its usual shy and skulk-
ing 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 preceding
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

* It is commonly found in gardens, but quite as abundantly in copses and
‘* braky woods”’ at a distance from all human habitations, whence, however, it
comes in autumn into shady orchards.—E. BLYTH.

THE GARDEN FAUVET. 107

stand on a dahlia stake, watching for its prey, darting aloft
with inconceivable rapidity, 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 observed this interesting ma-
noeuvre—especially last summer—lI do not remember a single
instance in which it missed its prey. I dare say that some fu-
ture closet Naturalist or compiler, on reading this, may suppose
that I have mistaken the Spotted Flycatcher for the Garden
Fauvet.* Now, to satisfy all such sceptical gentry on the sub-
ject, I beg leave to state, that I have observed the above-men-
tioned fact at least three weeks or a month before the arrival of
the Spotted Flycatcher, which does not usually appear till the
endof May. Whilst thus engaged in procuring its food, more-
over, it admits of a pretty near approach, so that it is impos-
sible for any one who has “‘ eyes in his head”’ to mistake the
bird. In two or three instances I have observed this circum-
stance in the Brake Nightingale and Sedge Reedling, and have
occasionally—though but seldom—known both these birds rise
in the air from their perch, singing all the while, in the manner
of the Wood Lark, Sedge Reedling, and Whitethroated Fauvet.
The instances, however, were ‘“‘ few and far between,’’ and the
birds neither rose very high into the air, nor remained long on
the wing. Itis very probable that if the Garden Fauvet “‘ tuned
his merry throat” in the night season, the notes would be con-
sidered little inferior to those of the Brake Nightingale, though
they do not possess that astonishing variety which is observable
in the song of the latter. Each of the Brake Nightingale’s
strains is different from the last, and it is as impossible to con-
jecture what will come next, as it is to keep all the notes in
one’s recollection. The melody of the Garden Fauvet, on the
other hand, though far from being destitute of variety, cannot
boast of the interminable changes of the other, and is easily re-

* Essentially as these two species differ in almost every respect, and easily as
they are distinguished by the field Ornithologist at a glance, I doubt not but they
are frequently confounded by ordinary observers.

108 THE GARDEN FAUVET.

membered, after ithas 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.

The nest consists of some kind of grass (according to SELBY,
it is the Galium aparine),* mixed with a small quantity of moss,
and lined with horsehair and very fine fibres. It is fastened to
the branches with cocoons, spiders’ webs, or some such sub-
stance. The structure is as slight as that of the Blackcapt
Fauvet, to which it bears a considerable resemblance. The
eggs are four or five in number, of a yellowish brown colour,
spotted, or rather blotched, with darker patches of the same,
and most thickly set at the large end. The nest is generally
built in a low bush or thick brake, and sometimes also on the
ground, amongst nettles and other plants, and not unfrequently
in a forked branch, four or five feet from the ground. It mostly
nestles in small woods and copses, but occasionally in gardens,
and very near houses. Its shy disposition causes it to desert
its nest on very slight grounds; even during nidification, or
after the young are hatched, it is seldom seen, and, like most
of our other choristers, is then never heard. By approaching
the spot very stealthily, however, I have not only observed the
female on her nest, but have, in two or three instances, very
nearly succeeded in capturing her. Though, after such an
affront, the female has invariably deserted, and though, in the
end, the nest has been entirely deserted, yet I have sometimes
found that the male would continue on the nest for a few hours.
But at length, admonished by his mate of the danger of so-
journing there any longer, they for ever quit a spot so little
likely to afford a safe asylum for their young brood. The nest
of this bird very commonly escapes detection altogether, from
the extreme caution with which it is concealed, and I have, in
autumn and winter, frequently discovered its nest in spots
where I had in vain searched for it throughout the spring and

* The exterior of the nests of the Fauvets always consists of the goose grass
(Galium aparine).—J. D. SALMON.

THE GARDEN FAUVET. 109

summer months. And this remark applies equally to the nests
of the other Fauvets, and even more so to the Blackcapt spe-
cies, as that is more abundant in most parts of the country.—
Mr. Buyru is of opinion that both sexes take their turn on the
nest.

It feeds on different kinds of insects and grubs, and also, like
the preceding species, draws largely on the raspberries, red
currants, cherries, particularly the Kentish sort, and other
garden fruit. J have sometimes been quite astonished at the
extent of the ravages which it commits in our gardens, whilst
it is rearing its young,* but then I have had an eye to the in-
calculable benefits it confers upon us by ridding the garden and
trees of their insect pests. The loss of asmall portion of fruit
by insectivorous birds, is in every instance amply repaid, as
without them the whole tree, roots, branches and all, would
shortly be overrun with millions of insects and larve, and
must, sooner or later, fall a victim to the devastations of these
little, but, by reason of their numbers, formidable creatures.

The young birds quit the nest rather early, especially when
any one comes near, in this resembling the other Fauvets, and
the Reedlings. Sometimes on approaching a nest containing
four or five fully fledged young, the whole brood has darted
out by common consent, and though I have frequently
searched for them with the utmost diligence, yet I could seldom
succeed in discovering them, as they squat down and lie per-
fectly quiet amongst the long grass, like the young of the Grey
Partridge, until the intruder leaves the spot. Mr. Bartow
informs me, that in the neighbourhood of Cambridge, this bird
is extremely abundant, being there known, in common with the
Blackcapt Fauvet, by the provincial name of “ nettle-creeper.”
—The sexes differ very slightly, but the young of the year are
more inclined to a yellowish hue than adults.

“In Kent and Surrey,” writes Mr. Bryru, “ the term
nettle-creeper is applied, by those who distinguish the different

* I was not aware that the old birds fed their young with fruit.—J. D. Sau-
MON. It is, nevertheless, a fact.—N. W

110 THE GARDEN FAUVET.

species, to the Garrulous Fauvet. The Garden Fauvet is termed
the ‘ Nightingale’s mate’ and ‘ Billy Whitethroat;’ in contra-
distinction to ‘ Peggy White-throat.? Many suppose that the
Garden Fauvet is the Blackcapt 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.”

WHITETHROATED Favuvet, Ficedula cinerea, BiytH.

To thee a song of praise is due,
For thou art faithful, fond, and true,
Affection warm and firm as thine,
Which knows no varying nor decline,
The false and fleeting love might shame,
Of those who bear a nobler name;
And lordly man might learn from thee,
A lesson of fidelity.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SyNnonyms.—Motacilla sylvia, LINN. Syst.—Sylvia cinerea, LATH. Ind. Orn.—
Curruca cinerea, BEcustT. Tasch. Deut.—Ficedula cinerea, BLYTH in Field Nat.
Mag.—Analyst, No. 13.— Whitethroated Warbler, PENN. Br. Zool.— STEPH.
Gen. Zool. MUDIkE’s Feath. Tribes. Whitethroated Fauvet, Analyst, No. 13.

Tuoveu this bird is extremely abundant in most parts of
Britain, the ornithological reader will be surprised to learn,
that it is seldom met with in Derbyshire, and that instances of
its breeding in my immediate neighbourhood have seldom come
to my notice. In my ornithological researches in the vicinity
of Sapperton, however, I have observed it in two or three in-
stances, and also, somewhat more frequently, near Rolleston
and Boilston, where it breeds regularly. It is probable that
many years ago it was as plentiful here as elsewhere, but that
it has been driven away by the constant cutting and clearing
of the woods, which has of late years been carried on most
unremittingly round about. These labours, however profitable
they may be to those engaged in them, entirely destroy the
Ornithologist’s sport, and I fear that if they are kept up with

THE WHITETHROATED FAUVET. 111

equal assiduity for a few years to come—of which there seems
to be every chance—we shall lose also the Brake Nightingale,
the Fauvets (Ficedula), and other charming vernal choristers,
which we can ill afford to spare. But if the Derbyshire
farmers can but get plenty of long-horned cattle, what do they
care about “ cock-robins” and ‘ cock-sparrows!”’ Although
our insatiable wood-cutters (might they not repair to the back
woods of America? they would have business enough on their
hands there) have deprived us of our humble little songster,
the reader need not fear either that I shall have nothing to
say about it, or that I intend to present him with a musty
closet-fabrication, from other authors. For during rides in
various parts of Staffordshire, and towards the more elevated
portion of Derbyshire, I have had ample opportunity for
observing its habits and general economy.

It arrives at the end of April, or sometimes at the beginning
of May, according to circumstances, and immediately resorts
to braky woods, thick hedgerows, and kitchen gardens. It is
much more a bird of the hedge than the two preceding species,
and is always abundantly met with in the above mentioned
localities, in those parts of the country which it frequents at
all. But though, like the Robin Redbreast, it may be seen in
every hedge, yet—in which also it resembles that bird—it is
far from being gregarious, and, except in the breeding season,
always occurs singly. On the arrival of the females—which
takes place ten or twelve days after the appearance of the
other sex—the males, which had before skulked about amongst
the hedges and brakes, are now seen perched on the tops of
the bushes, uttering their ‘‘ pleasing but cursory” song, and
occasionally pouring forth their sweet notes while ascending
to a considerable height in the air. This manceuvre is per-
formed in a singular and indescribable manner, and very
differently from the sober upward flight of the Wood Lark
(Alauda arborea). The notes are very inferior to the rich and
varied strains of the two preceding Fauvets, but are never-
theless very pleasing in their way, and, though few and often

112 THE WHITETHROATED FAUVET.

repeated, are remarkably sweet, and far from being monotonous.
It is by no means chary of its song, commencing at early
dawn, and generally continuing till the setting of the sun; I
have likewise sometimes heard it pouring forth its oft-repeated
strain long after the other diurnal songsters have retired to
rest. Even in the middle of the day—when most other birds
are mute—the well-known notes of the Whitethroated Fauvet
are still heard. Like the Garden Ouzel and others of the
Thrush sub-family (Turdine, N. Woop), it often sings during
light April-like showers, but not in heavy continuous rains or
thunder-storms. When singing, the feathers of the head and
neck are erected, and the bird appears greatly excited, as is
also the case with the next species.

The nest resembles those of the preceding species, both in
materials and general appearance, being of a very slight con-
struction, and so thin that the eggs may almost be seen through
the sides. It is, nevertheless, firm, compact, and well woven,
and is mostly built amongst nettles, long grass, or tall weeds,
but likewise in brambles, and occasionally in a low bush.*
Near Sapperton, where two or three pair breed annually, I
have sometimes found the nest in a thick hedge, beside a steep
and mossy bank, but the outer part of a bush concealed by
herbage appears to be the favourite site, whence the provincial
name “ nettle-creeper.”” This appellation is also applied to the
Blackcapt and Garden Fauvets; but, though all the Fauvets
will occasionally breed amongst nettles, the nests of the other
species are, I think, more commonly met with in brambles, low
bushes and brakes. The eggs, four or five in number, are of a
light ash colour, spotted with dark grey and brown. They are
little subject to variety. The bird is fully as shy as its con-
geners, and is very easily caused to desert, before it has com-
menced laying, but after the young are hatched, it is “ faith-
ful, fond, and true.”’f The young leave the nest very early,

* The woodbine is a common situation for the nests of the Fauvets.—J. D.
SALMON.
+ See the lines at the head of this article.

THE WHITETHROATED FAUVET. 113

especially if this be much frequented. Sometimes, on ap-
proaching the nest, I have known the whole brood scramble
over the sides, and make good their escape amongst the long
grass, when one would have thought that another week’s
nursing in the cradle might be beneficial to them! And so
perhaps it might, but when fear is in the way, when once the
organ of caution is fairly excited, there is little time for con-
siderations of this nature. Three broods are commonly reared
in the season.

Its first food, during its stay with us, consists of insects and
caterpillars, of which it destroys immense numbers, and it is
particularly serviceable in clearing the hedges of the swarms of
caterpillars which infest them in spring. Afterwards it subsists
in great part on fruit and berries, as currants, cherries, rasp-
berries, and elderberries, of which it has certainly full right to
a pretty large share, in consideration of its previous services.
It leaves us towards the end of September.

In alate communication from Dr. Liverpoot, I find the
following remarks :—

«Although the Whitethroated Fauvet is not so great a de-
vourer of fruit, as the Garden and Blackcapt species, yet it does
considerable damage* in gardens, amongst the currant bushes, as
I have frequently found to my cost. I at this time possess two
young birds which could, I verily believe, be preserved in good
health entirely on fruit. They are little inclined to the ‘ uni-
versal paste,’ but greedily devour almost any kind of insect food,
especially caterpillars. The common house fly they will not
touch, unless it be alive, and they always prefer a fat spider,
or any of the softer insects. One of them has already com-
menced ‘ recording,’ and I expect he will be in full song by the
middle of December! Were I to judge by the musical efforts
of this bird, I should certainly agree with you in considering
the song of birds innate, as, about a week ago, he had not the

* Though it does some damage, if we consider the fruit alone, yet, on the whole,
it is as beneficial as almost any other insectivorous bird. It is, besides, scarcely
fair to look only to the dark side of the question.—N. W.

I

114 THE GARRULOUS FAUVET.

slightest notion of his notes, and he is now making them out
entirely by himself. I doubt not but in a short'time he will
be able to sing as perfectly as any wild bird, and I shall be
curious to observe whether he will utter his song on the wing,
in the room in which they are confined. Even Sky Larks and
Wood Larks often make the attempt—however futile it may
be—in their little cages. My two Whitethroated Fauvets are
extremely shy and distant, always hiding themselves amongst
the branches which I provide for my birds, when any one
enters the room. I have never succeeded in bringing this
wary species to feed out of the hand, even when they were
reared from the nest: for although they may appear to be
tame for a time, yet they afterwards gradually grow less and less
familiar, until they become almost as wild as newly caught in-
dividuals. Their ‘organ of caution’ (as you Phrenologists
would say) must be very large !’’*

The female and young are more of a rust colour than the

adult males.

GarruLous Fauvet, Ficedula garrula, Buytu.

Synonyms.—Motacilla curruca, LINN. Syst.—GMEL. Linn.—Motacilla dume-
torum, LINN. Syst.—GMEL. Linn.—Sylvia curruca, LATH, Ind. Orn.—TEMM.
Man. d’Orn.—Sylvia dumetorum, LatTH. Ind. Orn.—Curruca garrula, BRIss.
Orn.—SELBY’S Br. Orn.—Sylvia sylviella, LATH. Ind. Orn.—MontT. Orn. Dict.
—Ficedula garrula, BLyTH in Field Nat. Mag.—Analyst, No. 13.—Babbling
Warbler, LatH. Syn.—PENN. Aret. Zool.—Brake Warbler, Muprx&’s Feath.
Tribes.—Garrulous Fauvet, Analyst, No. 13.

Tue Garrulous Fauvet (or “lesser whitethroat,” as it is
often erroneously termed) is found in most parts of England,
but has not yet been met with in Scotland,+} though it is possible
enough that it does visit many parts of that country. In
Derbyshire it is far from abundant, being about as rare as
the Whitethroated Fauvet. I have, however, found its nest

* I have found no difficulty in taming this species.—E. BLYTH.

{ Professor RENNIE thinks he has seen it in Ayrshire, but the authority of the
worthy Professor, on these matters, is at best doubtful; though, for aught I
know, he may be personally acquainted with this species.

, THE GARRULOUS FAUVET. lis

several times, and few years pass without my observing two
er three pair of the birds. It is easily distinguished from the
preceeding species, being smaller and more slender. The time
of its arrival and departure appears to be about the same as
that of its congeners. It is by no means an easy matter to get
a clear view of it in its natural state, or to obtain a specimen
for the museum, as it is extremely shy and retired in its habits,
hiding itself in the midst of the thickest hedges and most im-
penetrable brakes, which it threads with almost inconceivable
rapidity, and seldom quits. All the other Fauvets occasionally
occur in open spots or near the tops of trees, but brakes,
brambles, and low thick bushes, appear to be the exclusive
haunts of this bird. Atleast I never met with it elsewhere.*

The song—if indeed it deserves the name—consists of two or
three somewhat harsh notes often repeated, but without va-
riation. This is generally uttered from beneath the bushes,
rarely while perched on the top of them, and not very often
on the wing, in which it differs essentially from the preceeding
species. It might appear extraordinary at first sight, that a
group so eminent for its musical powers as the Fauvets, should
include the present species, whose notes are of little worth.
But then we must remember, that the Garrulous Fauvet is not
one of the typical species, and, moreover, that the degradation,
is perfectly gradual, the deterioration being very evident in the
Whitethroated Fauvet, andalso in many nearly allied foreign
species. Ficedula is by some considered the typical genus of
the Sylviade or Warbler family, deciding perhaps from the
vocal powers of its members; but I agree with Se:py and
others in believing the genus Sylvia of this work (or “ hujus
operis’’ as the learned would say) the pre-eminently typical
group.

The nest of the Garrulous Fauvet bears a close resemblance
to those of the other Fauvets, being open and of slight con-

* Mr. BLyTH says it ‘* comparatively seldom descends into bushes,” but, in
this neighbourhood, it is positively and undoubtedly a brake bird. What it is
elsewhere, I can only judge from the descriptions of authors and of compilers,

Ea

116 THE GARRULOUS FAUVET.

struction, but, as might be supposed from the size of the bird,
is considerably 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. I believe it seldom or
never builds amongst nettles, but I have known it breed in
osier beds, quite close to the water, in two or three instances,
and here I have frequently observed the parents feeding their
young, by lying down on the ground, as described in the article
‘‘Sepce Rerepiine.” The eggs, four or five in number, are
of greenish white colour, spotted with small dots of brown at
the larger end. They are hatched in the same time as those
of most other small birds—twelve or fourteen days—and the
young quit the nest early, though, when undisturbed, I have
found them in the nest, fully fledged. Immediately after the
young have left the cradle, is the best time for observing this
bird, for, when .engaged in the care of its offspring, it loses
much of its naturaliy shy and secluded habits.

Its food consists of different kinds of insects and their larve,
with which it supplies its young in great abundance. I have
not been able to find that it feeds on fruit, but this is probably
owing to its comparative scarcity in this county, and the con-
sequently few opportunities which the Naturalist can have of
watching its habits.*

Up to the time of the zealous and indefatigable Montacu
(whose Dictionary should be in the hands of every Ornitholo-
gist) that species appears to have been confounded with the
Whitethroated Fauvet, chiefly, it would seem, on account of its
shy and secluded habits, which prevents its being generally
known, or its economy and plumage accurately defined.

“In this neighbourhood (Halifax),”’ says a correspondent,
“the Garrulous Fauvet is by no means so rare as is repre-
sented by the Ornithologists with whose works I am ac-

* J have repeatedly seen it feed on fruit, and have noted as many as eight or
ten together, feeding on elder-berries. It is particularly partial to cherries.—
E. BLYTH.

THE GARRULOUS FAUVET. 117

quainted. It is, however, much less commonly seen than the
Whitethroated Fauvet, and, as far as I know, it has not
received a provincial name hereabouts, nor can I find that the
birdcatchers have observed it. It is, nevertheless, sufficiently
abundant in thick braky woods, and in hedgerows, where it
_ conceals itself so sedulously and constantly, that I believe
I should myself have overlooked it, had it not been for its
somewhat remarkable call-note and song. It was a long time
before I could discover from what throat these sounds pro-
ceeded, as I have sometimes waited for hours before it would
rise to the top of the bushes, and I have, from this cause,
rarely been able to procure a specimen. It is perhaps not so
common as its congener the Whitethroated Fauvet, but of this
it is difficult to judge with any accuracy, on account of the
hidling disposition of the Garrulous Fauvet. The bird is of
course well known to you.—N. D.”

From this it would appear, that the species possesses the
same hidling habits in Yorkshire as I have observed in these
parts.

Of the Garrulous Fauvet Mr. Biytu says, in a recent com-
munication :— It is a remarkably garrulous and tyrannical
species in confinement, attackizg birds more than twice its
size. I have seen it driving away its congener, the White-
throated Fauvet, in its natural state. The latter is everywhere
commoner than the other.”

118 THE REDEYED WHINLING.

SuspramM. III.—SYLVIANA.
Genus MELIPOPHILUS, Leacu. WHINLING.

RepEyYED WHINLING, Melizophilus provincialis, Leacn.

In the lonely wild thou hast made thy nest,
And the thorny gorse is thy place of rest,
Yet dost thou sit on its branches and sing,
Making the waste with thy melody ring.
Bird of the desert, who cheerest my way,
There’s a lesson for me in thy joyous lay,
There are golden flowers on the thorny tree;
There are songs of the wilderness also for me.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Motacilla provincialis, GMEL. Linn.—Sylvia Dartfordiensis, LATH.
Ind, Orn.—Mont. in Linn. Trans.—Sylvia provincialis, TEMM. Man. d@’ Orn.—
Dartford Warbler, SeLpy’s Br. Orn.—MUDIE’s Feath. Tribes.

Tus bird was first added to the British Fauna by Dr.
Latruam. It is very locally distributed, being only found in a
few of the sourthern counties, and especially in Kent.* As it
does not occur in any part of Derbyshire, and as I have had
no opportunity of observing its habits in its natural state, I
cannot do better than present my readers with the admirable
account of Montagu :—

“« This species is rather larger than the Common Wren, and
much longer, by reason of its tail, which is one half its length
nearly ; the weight is about two drams and a half: length five
inches and a half. Bill black, at the base of the under
mandible whitish ; the upper mandible a little curved; irides
and eyelids yellow. The whole upper parts are of a dusky
brown ; cheeks dark cinereous ; throat, neck, and breast fine
deep ferruginous; sides the same, but not so bright; middle
of the belly white; quills dusky, slightly edged with dark

* It is nowhere more abundant than upon the commons where the counties of
Surrey and Sussex meet.—E. BLYTH.

Cy

a

THE REDEYED WHINLING. 119

cinereous on the outer webs, those next the body and coverts
with dark ferruginous brown; at the bend of the wing, under
the alula spurie, is a spot of white: the tail is considerably
cuneiform, the outer feather is tipped with white, and edged
with the same on the exterior web; the next slightly tipped
with white; the remainder of these, and all the others, dusky;
the middle ones edged with cinereous: legs yellowish. In
some the throat is speckled with white. The female and young
are of a lighter colour, and more rufous.

“Tt is called the Dartford Warbler (now Redeyed Whinling),
from having been first discovered in England near that place ;
it is, however, a scarce species, rarely noticed in this country.
Dr. LarHam seems to have been the first discoverer of this
bird in England, and communicated it to Mr. Pennant, who
first published it in his British Zoology, a pair having been —
killed on Bexley Heath, near Dartford, on the 10th of April,
1773. Since that time, Dr. LarHam informs us, several were
shot in the winter of 1783, on a common, near Wandsworth,
in Surrey, now in the Leverean Museum; from which cir-
cumstance that author very justly observes, that if it is found
here only as a winter migrant, he cannot reconcile the circum-
stance of its breeding in France (which has been said to be the
case), as all migratory birds go northward to breed, not to a
warmer climate. In the month of September, 1796, we ob-
served many of these birds about Falmouth, in Cornwall, fre-
quenting the furzy hills, and killed several of them from that
time to the 24th of December, when a sudden fall of snow
that covered the ground for some time, drove them from that
part. Many of these birds, on their first appearance, were in
their nestling feathers, from which some hopes were enter-
tained of their breeding in those parts ; but with the most di-
ligent search, not one was to be found the following summer ;
nor indeed did they ever return after the snow had driven them
away.*

* I have known this species evince the migratory impulse as forcibly, in con-
finement, as any other members of the family.—E. BLYTH.

‘tet a

126 THE REDEYED WHINLING.

“My opinion that this species bred with us, was greatly
strengthened, by a letter which I received from a scientific
friend in Cornwall, well known in the literary world, Mr.
StackuHouse, of Pendarvis, who assured me that his brother
had observed these birds for several years to inhabit the furze,
near Truro; that last year, as well as the present, they were
plentiful during the summer season; and that he had not only
seen them every month in the year, but had observed young
ones soon after they had left the nest, though his search for
the nest and eggs had been in vain.

“This information redoubled, if possible, my ardour, and [
visited a large furze common in my neighbourhood, where !
had seen several the preceding autumn; and upon close search,
on the 16th of July, three pairs of old birds were observed, two
of which had young evidently, by their extreme clamour, and
by frequently appearing with food in their bills.

“‘On the 17th my researches were renewed, and after three
hours watching the motions of another pair, I discovered the
nest with three young: it was placed among the dead branches
of the thickest furze, about two feet from the ground, slightly
fastened between the main stems, not with a fork. .

“On the same day, a pair were observed to be busied in
carrying materials 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 the nest appeared to be finished, but it possessed
only one egg on the 21st, and on the 26th it contained four,
when the nest and eggs were secured.

“The nest is composed of dry vegetable stalks, particularly
goose 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 sparingly with
wool. In one of the nests was a single (Grey) Partridge’s
feather. The lining was equally sparing, for it consists only
of a few dry stalks of some fine species of Carex, without a
single leaf of the plant, and only two or three of the panicles.

THE REDEYED WHINLING. 121

This thin flimsy structure, which the eye pervades in all parts,
much resembles the nest of the Whitethroated Fauvet. The
eggs are also somewhat similar to those of the Whitethroated
Fauvet (Ficedula cinerea), but rather less, weighing only
twenty-two grains: like the eggs of that species, they possess
a slight tinge of green, and are fully speckled all over with
olivaceous brown and cinereous, on a greenish-white ground ;
the markings becoming more dense, and forming a zone at the
larger end.

“The young were considered no small treasure, and were
taken as soon as the proper age arrived for rearing them by
hand ; which is at the time the tips of the quills and the greater
coverts of the wings expose a portion of the fibrous end.

“By experience, grasshoppers (which at this season of the
year are to be procured in abundance) are found to be an
excellent food for all insectivorous birds; these, therefore, at
first, were their constant food, and after five or six days, a
mixture of bread and milk, chopped boiled meat, and a little
finely powdered hemp and rape-seed, made into a thick paste,
were sometimes given to wean them from insect food by degrees ;
this they became more partial to than even grasshoppers, but
they afterwards preferred bread and milk, with pounded hemp-
seed only, to every other food; the smaller house or window
flies excepted.

“« Before these birds left their nest, I put them into a pair of
scales, and found that they weighed about two drams and a
quarter each. At this time they ate, in one day, about one
dram and a quarter each, so that in two days each consumed
more than its own weight. Such a repletion is almost incre-
dible, and doubtless greatly beyond what the parent birds
could usually supply them with, which by observation ap-
peared to consist of variety, and not unfrequently small moths
(Phalena) ; their growth, however, was in proportion to the
large supply of food.

“This interesting little family began to throw out some of their
mature feathers on each side of the breast, about the middle of

122 THE REDEYED WHINLING.

August, and the sexes became apparent. At this time they
had forsaken their grasshopper food, feeding ‘by choice on the
soft victuals before mentioned. The nestling attachment of
these little birds was very conspicuous towards the dusk of the
evening, for a long time after they had forsaken the nest; they
became restless, apparently in search of a roosting-place, flying
about the cage for about half an hour, or until it was too dark
to move with safety, when a singular soft note was uttered by
one which had chosen a convenient spot for the night, at
which instant they all assembled, repeating the same plaintive
cry. In this interesting scene, as warmth was the object of
all, a considerable bustle ensued, in order to obtain an inward
berth; those on the outside alternately perching upon the
others, and forcing in between them.* During this confusion,
which sometimes continued for a few minutes, the cuddling
note was continually emitted, and in an instant all was quiet.

«Nothing can exceed the activity of these little creatures ;
they are in perpetual motion the whole day, throwing them-
selves into various attitudes and gesticulations, erecting the
tail and crest at intervals, accompanied by a double or triple
cry, which seems to express the words cha, cha, cha. They
frequently take their food while suspended to the wires, with
their heads downwards, and not unusually turn over back-
wards on the perch. The males, of which there were three
out of the four, began to sing with the appearance of their
first mature feathers, and continued in song all the month of
October, frequently with scarcely any intermission for several
hours together. The notes are entirely native, consisting
of considerable variety, delivered in a hurried manner, and
in a much lower tone than I have heard the old birds in their
natural haunts. The song is different from anything of the
kind I ever heard, but in part resembles most that of the Stone
Chat.

““The Dartford Warbler, like the Whitethroated Fauvet,

* This may be observed amongst other cage birds, and also with the young of
the Common Fowl.—N. W.

THE REDEYED WHINLING. 133

will sometimes suspend itself on wing over the furze,* singing
the whole time, but is more frequently observed on the upper-
most spray, in vocal strain for half an hour together.

“‘ BurFon, who appears to have been the first, if not the
only person on the continent, who knew anything of the Dart-
ford Warbler as a Naturalist, seems to have known very little
more than that such a bird existed, and that it had been found
in Provence (as his name of Pitchou de Provence evinces), but
he knew nothing of its habits. If he had not figured it in the
Planches Enluminées, 655, fig. 1, it would scarcely be conceived
that the history given by that author could be intended for this
species.

“These birds are not, as we at first supposed, confined to
the south of Devonshire, contiguous to the coast, but have
been observed in the more central parts of that county. In
the autumn of 1809, several were noticed by Mr. Comyns, at
least fifteen miles north of Exeter, amongst furze, one of which
was shot and sent to us for examination.

“We find, by recent observation, the Dartford Warbler is
rather an early breeder, so that they either breed twice in the
summer, or some accident must have caused their breeding so
late as that before mentioned. In 1805, we observed a pair of
these birds carrying food in their .bills early in the month of
May; from which, and their continual vociferations, there
could be no doubt of their having young, and it was also evi-
dent the young had quitted their nest, and were skulking
amongst the thick furze. Carefully did we examine every part
for the nest, where the birds were most clamorous, but in
vain ; but there was no doubt that the young were frequently
very near, by the temerity of the parent birds. The artifices
these little creatures made to induce us to follow them, in order
to entice us from the spot, were highly amusing. The usual
cry was changed into a scream of distress; they would almost

* This habit is common to most brake birds, as the Whitethroated Fauvet,
and even the Sibilous Brakehopper.—E. BLYTH.

124 THE REDEYED WHINLING.

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.”

My excellent friend, the celebrated Dr. Laruam, informs me
that the Redeyed Whinling ‘‘has frequently been met with
near London, and very lately about Andover in Hampshire.”

I have been favoured with the following additional infor-
mation, by Mr. Brytu :—

«The vicinity of Godalming is described, in the Magazine
of Natural History, as a favourite locality with the species,
where it is known by the name of Furze Wren. Its manners, in
the wild state, exactly resemble those of the Whitethroated
Fauvet, but in the cage they approach more to those of the
Garrulous Fauvet, to both of which it is closely allied by direct
affinity, the character of its song, habits, eggs, &c., being the
same; it has also the same continuous, hurried warble. A
continental species intimately connects it with the latter, hav-
ing the form of the Garrulous Fauvet, but the plumage of the
Redeyed Whinling. It is sociable and gentle in confinement,
like the Whitethroated Fauvet; but its activity, peculiar ac-
tions, and attitudes, and many similar minutie that I could
point out, intimate its affinity with the Garrulous Fauvet.
Like this species it sometimes climbs up the wires of its cage—
a habit observed in none of the other Fauvets. The present
species is likewise frugivorous—at least it is so in confinement
—and very hardy and healthy. When it flies to a bush for
protection, it is absolutely impossible to drive it out. I have
already mentioned that it exercises the migrative instinct in
confinement, which renders it probable that some at least leave

the country in winter, as I know to be the case with the Stone
Chat.”

THE HEDGE WARBLER. 125

Genus SYLVIA, Aucr. WARBLER.

Hrepce WarsB.eER, Sylvia loquax, HERB.

Thou fairy bird, how I love to trace
The rapid flight of thy tiny race;
I look from my lattice the branches among,
Aud see thee flit like a shadow along.
For the wild bee does not wave his wing
More lightly than thine, thou fairy thing.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Motacilla hippolais, Linn. Syst.—GMEL. Linn.—Sylvia hippolais,
LAtH Ind. Orn.—SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Sylvia loquax, HERBERT in RENN.
White.—Pettychap Warbler, STEPH. Gen. Zool—Hedge Warbler, MUDIE’s
Feath. Tribes.—Analyst, No. 13.

Tuts handsome little bird is tolerably equally distributed
over England, but, like most of the Sylwiade, is most plenti-
ful in the southern counties, and is, I believe, rarely met with
farther north than Northumberland. SrLsy mentions its
being abundant in the midland counties ; in Derbyshire, how-
ever, it is much less common than the two following species,
though it can by no means be said to be rare.* It usually
arrives at the end of March, long before any others of the
family, and soon spreads itself over the country. Montacu
and other accurate Ornithologists have conjectured that it may
possibly pass the winter in England; but, though I have more
than once observed individuals on the 25th of February, and
even earlier,f yet I am convinced that it regularly retires
from here in due season, to an individual (or “‘ to a man,” as an
Irishman would say), and is not again seen till the approach of
spring. There can be no doubt but one or two may occasionally

* It isthrcughout England the rarest of the three, and is much less common
here than the others. The 2nd or 3rd of April is the usual time of its appear-
- ance.—E. BLYTH.

+ In the present year (1836), I heard the first Hedge Warbler on the 5th of
February, and others on the following days.

126 THE HEDGE WARBLER.

winter in the south of England, but this circumstance is no
more conclusive of its. being resident with us, than the Brake
Nightingale’s having been heard to sing, in its natural state on
Christmas day, which has actually been known to be the case.

Immediately on its arrival, its clattering note—which goes
by the name of a song—is heard in almost every hedge, and
afterwards in the pea-rows. This note or song—call it which
you please—has been likened to the words chiff chaff, chiffy
chaffy ; but, though there is no accounting for the extent to
which people’s imagination will carry them, I can discern little
or no resemblance between the song and the words. The
analogy must be in a great measure imaginary, as the notes of
birds—that is, singing birds—are whoily devoid of consonants ;
and, moreover, I can confidently affirm that no one, unacquainted
with the song of this or any other bird, would, on hearing it,
recognise it, from having been told the words which it was sup-
posed to resemble. Let any two persons note down the song
of some bird, and see how far the two accounts will agree.
We have, in fact, an instance of this in the song of the Brake
Nightingale. The English bird-catchers liken the notes to the
words whitlow, whitlow, sweet jug, pipe rattle, water bubble, and
many others, which it would be alike tedious and unprofitable
here to repeat, while BecusTE1n gives the ridiculous table
which is extracted from his Naturgeschichte Deutsche, in my
article “ Brake NIGHTINGALE.”

The unmusical and oft-repeated ditty of the Hedge Warbler
is almost unceasingly uttered from the time of its arrival to the
period when the young burst the shell, and it is, in fact, one of
the most unwearied songsters with which I am acquainted, with
the exception, however, of the Sedge Reedling, Whitethroated
Fauvet, and a few others, which sing both in the day and at
night. Small as is the intrinsic worth of the notes of the Hedge
Warbler, they are hailed with delight by the field Ornithologist,
as it is the first migratory member of the family whose strains are
heard in this blessed land ; and because, moreover, it gives notice
of the approach of more joyous and beauteous songsters. But if

THE HEDGE WARBLER. 127

the notes are not worth listening to—at least as regards their
melody—the bird itself is very amusing and pretty, and its
quick, lively motions cannot fail to attract the attention of the
Ornithologist, though the bird, from the very circumstance of
the rapidity of its movements, and from its small size, may
pass wholly unnoticed by the ordinary observer.

The nest is often placed at the bottom of a hedge, and some-
times in a pea-row, but perhaps more commonly on the
ground, in a thick tuft of grass, and very often in a certain
herb, with a sweet-smelling flower, whose name, unfortunately,
is unknown to me_ This plant appears to be a particular
favourite with the Warbler* genus, and | have seldom searched
a tuft, or rather a bed of it in vain. I have also found it on
the stumps of trees overgrown with moss and other herbage.
It is at all times a difficult nest to discover, as the bird very
commonly conceals its little tenement with a profusion of moss
and grass, which are placed artfully — though apparently
carelessly—on the top. If this second roof be removed, it will
quickly be renewed, even three or four times, but afterwards,
if all its efforts are baffled, the spot is forsaken altogether.
The next consists of dried grass and moss exteriorly, and
occasionally a few dead leaves ; inside it is lined with a warm
coating of feathers; the hole is at the side, near the top.
The eggs, which are five, six, or even seven in number, are
white, spotted with purple at the large end, with a few very
minute specks of the same over the whole. They are some-
what subject to variety, and I have seen a nest containing five
eggs of the usual colour, and the sixth pure white. Indeed,
both nests and eggs of the British Warblers resemble each other
so closely, that, as my friend Hewirson informs me, little
dependence can be placed upon their eggs unless the female is
caught on her nest. The nest is a much surer mark of dis-
tinction than the eggs, but the bird itself best of all. The nest

* When I speak of the Warblers, of course only the members of the genus
Sylvia, as now restricted, are alluded to,

128 THE HEDGE WARBLER.

occurs most frequently in woods, but sometimes in walled
gardens.

As the three Warblers are often confounded by those little
versed in ornithological pursuits, I shall subjoin a description
of the plumage, in order that they may not be mistaken in
future.

“ Length between four and five inches. Upper parts oil-
green, tinged with yellowish-grey. Between the bill and eyes,
and over each eye, is a narrow, faint, yellowish-white streak.
Wing-coverts pale yellowish-brown, margined with yellow-
ish-grey The whole of the under parts, including the under
tail-coverts, pale primrose-yellow. Legs and feet blackish-
brown.”’—SELBy.

In young birds, the under parts are of a brighter yellow than
in adults. The sexes do not differ materially.

As the Hedge Warbler arrives before any of the other
summer visitants, so also it is the last to retire, commonly
departing about the third week in October, and often later.
It subsists entirely on insects, which it finds in the hedge and
pea-rows. It is a very useful bird in the garden, being wholly
insectivorous.

Mr. Biytu says:—‘‘ The Hedge Warbler frequently re-
peats its note upon the wing, and I have heard it vary its song
in a most singular manner, uttering its usual cry five or six
times in succession, and then alternating it with a very curious
note, which I know not how to express in writing. It has also
a plaintive cry—Aui, emitted when any one is near the nest, and
which almost exactly resembles that of the Willow Warbler.
The greater number leave us in September.”

THE WOOD WARBLER. 129

Woop Warster, Sylvia sibilatrix, Becust.

Now thou art seen in the woodbine bower,
Gracefully gliding from flower to flower ;
Now climbing the stem of the asphodel,
Or the tall campanula’s snowy bell.
And the wild bee does not wave his wing
More lightly than thine, thou fairy thing.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SyNonyMS.—Sylvia sylvicola, LATH. Ind. Orn.—L1nn. Trans.—Sylvia sibilatrix,
Becust. Naturg. Deut.—Ip. Tasch. Deut.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Wood Warbler,
PENN. Br. Zool.—STEPH. Gen. Zool.—MUDIE’s Feath. Tribes.

Turs elegant species appears to have been first noticed, as a
British bird, by Mr. Lams, in the Linnean Transactions, but
it has since been found to be very plentiful, and has been
described by every succeeding author. It appears to be a much
commoner bird than the Hedge Warbler ;—at least it is in
these parts. It arrives much later, generally at the end of
April.

Though the Hedge Warbler and Wood Warbler bear con-
siderable resemblance to each other in general appearance,
their haunts and habits differ essentially. In the hedge and
the brake—the favourite locality of the preceding species—it
will be vain to seek for the Wood Warbler. I have met with
it very frequently in woods, where the desolating influence of
the woodman’s axe is unknown; but in my immediate neigh-
bourhood (that is, about Foston), where the rage for wood-
hewing now appears to be at its height, it does not occur. It
seems, moreover, to prefer single and lofty trees, or three or
four in a group, to aregular wood, and beech and oak are,
according to my experience, its peculiar favourites. In Sud-
bury Park, and in many parts of Needwood Forest, it is very
abundant, but I cannot find that it has acquired a provincial
name in this county. The song appears to be fully as unme-

K

130 THE WOOD WARBLER.

lodious as that of the Hedge Warbler, but the singularity of
the note cannot fail to attract the attention of the Ornithologist.
It consists of one note uttered several times together, in a hur-
ried and tremulous manner, but not very loud. Montaeu
mentions that it has a shuffle of the wing whilst singing ; but
this I have not been able to verify, as the bird is shy, and sel-
dom seen but at the tops of very lofty trees.

It seems somewhat remarkable, that a bird so partial to tall
trees as the Wood Warbler, should build on the ground; the
circumstance, however, is ‘no less strange than true,” and I
never remember to have seen the nest even in a low bush, but
have occasionally found it on the stump of an old tree over-
grown with moss, and so has Swrert. The usual situation is
a tuft of grass or other herbage, in woods, but never in gar-
dens, in which it differs materially from its congeners. The
nest greatly resembles that of the Hedge Warbler, both in
shape and composition, and, like it, is loose and easily torn to
pieces. The materials are grass and moss, intermixed with
dead leaves, lined with grass of a finer texture, and a few horse-
hairs. It is difficult to conceive why two birds, so nearly
allied as the Hedge and Wood Warblers, should employ such
different materials for the lining of their nests, the one inva-
riably using feathers, and the other nothing but fine dry grass
and one or two horsehairs. It is obvious that feathers must
be much warmer than dry grass; and what is the reason of the
difference? Surely the one cannot be so much more delicate
than the other. Rather, indeed, the contrary; for the Hedge
Warbler arrives much earlier, and departs considerably later
than the present species, and has even been observed in Eng-
land in mid-winter.

The eggs, five or six in number, are white, spotted all over
with purple, but most thickly at the larger end. The eggs of
all the Warblers are extremely beautiful and delicate, and are
of a lovely pale pink before they are blown, but afterwards be-
come snow-white.

The Wood Warbler subsists entirely on insect food, which

THE WOOD WARBLER. 131

it finds chiefly amongst the leaves of trees. These lovely birds,
and their congeners, are of more service to man, than any
others of the family ; for, whilst they destroy thousands of in-
sects and small caterpillars daily, they never touch fruit or
berries of any kind. Thus, though their song is of little worth,
yet their delicate shape and plumage, and their insectivorous
labours, render them peculiarly deserving of our protection.
As this species seldom approaches houses or gardens, it is less
known to casual observers than the Hedge Warbler, but is,
nevertheless, much more abundant.

Plumage.—<‘ Top of the head, and all the upper parts, sul-
phur-yellow ; the lower (or root) half of the feathers tinged
with ash-grey. Forehead, and eye-streak (which is large and
well defined), sulphur, inclining to gamboge-yellow. Cheeks,
throat, front of the neck, marginal ridges of the wings and
thighs, pale sulphur-yellow. The rest of the lower parts, and
the under tail-coverts, pure white. Tail slightly forked, hair-
brown, margined with sulphur-yellow, except the outer feather,
which is of a uniform hair-brown colour. Legs pale yellowish-
brown. Bill, having the under mandible pale yellowish-brown,
the upper rather darker. Wings reaching as far as the ex-
tremity of the upper tail-coverts, or two-thirds of the length of
the tail. Both sexes are similar in plumage.” —SELBy.

Length of the male five inches anda half. The female is,
according to Monracu, a trifle larger, and weighs about three
drams. Those parts which are yellow are brighter in young
birds than in adults, in which it resembles the Hedge Warbler.
SELBY mentions that this bird frequently sings on the wing,
but this has hitherto escaped my observation, though I have
frequently heard the other Warblers singing whilst flying from
tree to tree. It departs in September.

The following observations are from the pen of my corres-
pondent, Epwarp Briytu :—

“‘T have often observed this bird within four or five feet of
the ground, and witnessed the shiver of the wings you allude
to. It frequently continues to emit the sound /zi?, for a con-

K 2

132 THE WILLOW WARBLER.

siderable time without stopping, at which time it will always
be found to be on the wing, but no sooner does it settle than
the note is gradually repeated quicker and quicker, till it ends
in a kind of trill; then it is that the shivering of the wings is
observed. The note is never so prolonged when the bird is
perched. It has also another and remarkably mournful cry,
which is emitted at intervals, and whichis very peculiar. It is
a very bold species when any one approaches the nest, uttering
a most dolorous note, which may be expressed by the sound
tee-ip, the stress being laid chiefly on the first syllable.”

WitLtow Warst_er, Sylvia melodia, Biytu.

Come, fairy bird, with the glancing eye,
And graceful form, to my garden fly:
Thou com’st not to steal the nectar away,
But to search the stems for thy insect prey.
And the wild bee does not wave his wing,
More lightly than thine, thou fairy thing.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Svnonyms.—Motacilla trochilus, Linn. Syst.—Motacilla acredula, Linn. Syst.—
Sylvia trochilus, LaTH. Ind. Orn.—SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Yellow Warbler, STEPH.
Gen. Zool.—PENN. Br. Zool.—Analyst, No. 13—Willow Warbler, MupiE’s
Feath. Tribes.

Tue Willow Warbler is by far the commonest and most
equally distributed of the genus, in Britain. In habits and
haunts it partly resembles the other Warblers, being found
amongst brakes and hedges, as well as in lofty trees ; but it is
seldom found in gardens, the species that inhabits these being
the Hedge Warbler. It is plentiful in Derbyshire, arriving
about the first week in April, soon spreading itself over the
country, and is met with in almost every hedge, wood, and
furze brake. About Sapperton and Broughton (places very fa-
vourable to the researches of the Ornithologist) it is remarkably
abundant, much more so than in the immediate neighbourhood

THE WILLOW WARBLER. l&

of my residence, and it is almost impossible to enter a wood
near either of these places without both hearing and seeing it.

The song possesses little variety, and is confined to a few low
clear notes, but, on the whole, forms a very pleasing melody.
Though the strains are far from being loud, yet they may be
heard at a considerable distance, and contribute not a little to
the general harmony of the groves. It is often uttered from the
top of a lofty oak or beech tree, and occasionally on the wing,
whilst flying from tree to tree.

The nest is composed of moss and dry grass, mixed occa-
sionally with dead leaves, and lined with feathers, but much
more sparingly than that of the Hedge Warbler.* The nest
is much firmer and more compact than those of the other
Warblers, and is of a flatter shape. It is not near so high,
and bears little resemblance to the nests of its congeners in
form, though the materials of the exterior are the same. It is
always placed on the ground, amongst tufts of grass or other
thick herbage, under which it is carefully concealed. It is
mostly found in woods. The eggs are from five to seven in
number, of a very pale pink before they are blown, and spotted
all over with confused specks of reddish brown, most thickly
set at the large end. They are smaller, more elliptical, and
more inclined to a pinkish hue, than those of the Hedge
Warbler.

The female sits very close, and ] have often watched the
male feeding her on the nest. Whilst this is going on, they
make a low chattering kind of intercourse, as if consulting on
their family affairs. During the middle of the day the male
sometimes takes his turn upon the eggs for a short time, but
this is not always the case. His mate may then be seen dart-
ing about the branches and foliage of the trees, every now and
then catching an insect with a loud snap of the bill. The food
is the same as that of the other Warblers,—insects and their
larve.

* J have never observed much difference in this respect.—E. BLyTH.

134 THE WILLOW WARBLER.

Dr. LiverPoou informs me that he has found this species
very interesting in confinement, and easily tamed, even when
caught old. ‘‘Three or four,” says my intelligent correspon-
dent, “‘ that I now possess, are the most amusing little pets I
ever had. After they had been with me about a month, they
entirely lost their natural shyness, and immediately on my en-
tering the room, they all flock upon my head and shoulders, as
also do several of my other birds. I feed my Willow Warblers
almost entirely on bread and milk—of which they are very fond
—giving them occasionally, as a change, a spider, or some in-
sects. I have had two of them three years, and they are all in
excellent health. I know not what those who speak about the
cruelty of keeping birds in confinement, would say, were they
to take a peep at my aviary. Here fluttering is unknown, and
nearly my whole flock will feed out of my hand. A few, as
the Redeyed Whinling and Sibilous Brakehopper, are, it is
true, little inclined to familiarity with me, but they are to all
appearances perfectly happy and contented. When I approach,
they generally conceal themselves amongst the furze branches,
to which they seem very partial. The wildest species, when
put into my aviary, soon becomes tame, being surrounded by
so many domesticated birds. You may depend upon it, my
dear Sir, that those who speak about the cruelty of caging
birds, know nothing at all about the matter.”

Piumage.—‘‘ Head and upper parts of the body pale oil-
green with a cinereous or grey shade. Lesser wing-coverts
and margins of quill feathers pale sulphur-yellow. From the
base of the bill a streak of primrose-yellow proceeds over the
eyes; but not so well defined as that of the Wood Warbler.
Cheeks and throat primrose-yellow, passing into sulphur-
yellow on the breast. Middle of the belly pure white. Under
tail-coverts primrose-yellow. Quills and tail hair-brown, the
latter slightly forked, and the margins of the feathers yellowish-
white. Wings reaching half the length of the tail. Legs yel-
lowish-brown. Bil! having the lower mandible yellowish, the
upper brown.’’—SELBY.

THE GOLDCRESTED KINGLET. 135

The sexes do not differ, but the yellow in the young of the
year is brighter than in adults.—It departs in September.

“« All the Warblers,” says Mr. Biyru, ‘ will take insects
on the wing in the manner of the Flycatchers, but chiefly the
Willow Warbler; this is most commonly observed in autumn,
at which time the young of the Hedge and Willow Warblers
are extremely quarrelsome, and drive away with great spirit
any birds that come within their hunting ground. I have not
noticed this in the Wood Warbler, the young of which, be-
sides, has not the bright yellow breast of the immature birds of
the other species. [They acquire this yellow plumage after

having once moulted, and I suspect that it gradually fades
away.”

Genus REGULUS, Cuv. KINGLET.

GotpcresteD Kineret, Regulus auricapillus, SELBY.

Gem-like bird, with thy golden crest,
Like lovely visions rarely seen,
Seldom we find thy place of rest,
Shrouded beneath the-foliage green.
’Mid the dark groves of fir and pine,
Where chiefly thou lovest to dwell,
Sweet is that fairy note of thine,
As the chime of a silver bell.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Motacilla regulus, Linn. Syst.—Sylvia regulus, LATH. Ind. Orn.—
Regulus cristatus, SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Goldencrested Warbler, PENN. Br. Zool.
—Common Goldcrest, STEPH. Gen. Zool.—Goldcrested Kinglet, Analyst, No.
13.—Mag. Nat. Hist., No.55.—N. Woon’s Orn. Text-book.

Tus is the smallest of European birds, and is perhaps more
equally distributed over Britain, than any other members of
the family to which it belongs. It is also one of the few spe-
cies which remain with us throughout the year, regardless
alike of the ardent heat of summer, the ‘‘ semisuicidal”’ fogs of

136 THE GOLDCRESTED KINGLET.

autumn, and the dreary blasts of rugged winter. Unlike most
of the Sylviade, it is at least as plentiful in Scotland as in the
south of England, inhabiting the vast pine forests in the north
of Britain. It is very abundant in every part of England, but
nowhere more so than in Derbyshire, where they may be seen
in swarms in every fir and oak plantation, and in every hedge.
It is aremarkably lively fairy-like bird, and in many particulars
greatly resembles the Tits. Like them, it frequently clings to
the twigs with its head downwards, while searching for its
minute insect prey. Its dexterity in clinging to the trunks of
trees is very remarkable, and I have seen it running up the
trunk of an oak tree, with as much ease and celerity as a mouse
would scale the sides of acorn-bin. It never descends, and the
ascent is seldom made inastraight line, but usually ina sloping
direction. From the extreme rapidity with which this move-
ment is effected, I have known ordinary persons to mistake it
for a mouse, but the field Ornithologist distinguishes it at a
glance.

Its motions are so quick, that after observing them for a
time, even the blithe Chaff Finch and the gay Whin Linnet
appear dull and heavy. In briskness of expression, it even
exceeds the Coal and Marsh Tits, which it much resembles in
shape, though not in colour. It usually catches its prey whilst
darting about the branches and foliage of the trees, often ex-
tracting the insect concealed under the crevices of the bark,
with a shuffle of the wing. Frequently also it seizes its food
hovering over or under the branches, on which I have observed
it to dart in the manner of the diurnal birds of prey, and have
repeatedly seen it catch insects on the wing. Sometimes when
a pack of them has been busily engaged in exploring a wood,
on a frosty morning in December, I have known the whole
flock suddenly take wing, flying off with the greatest precipi-
tation, uttering their somewhat harsh alarm note; and, on
looking up to discover the cause of their alarm, beheld a Spar-
row Hawk (Accipiter nisus) hovering aloft, directly over the
wood where the birds had been feeding. But they are little

THE GOLDCRESTED KINGLET. 137

afraid of the larger members of the Falcon family, and show no
kind of concern if a Buzzard (Buteo) flies over them, well
aware, probably, that he is too indolent to make a stoop for
such tiny prey. Indeed, I think the Goldcrested Kinglet falls
a prey to the insatiable appetite of the Falconine* plunderers
much less seldom than most other small birds.

It is by no means a bird of the brake,f always haunting
woods, mostly those of fir, larch and oak, and also isolated trees.
It is not, however, partial to very lofty trees, like the Wood
Warbler, but rather prefers young plantations and copses,
where it may almost invariably be found. In winter, it is much
more plentiful than in summer, large flocks arriving about the
beginning of November, and spreading themselves over the
country. It is not a little surprising, that the smallest, and
apparently the most delicate, of the Warbler family, should
arrive here just at the time when the rest of its brethren are
taking their departure for more genial climes. The circum-
stance is altogether a very remarkable one, and I confess my
utter inability to account for it. In confinement it is a very
tender species, as is proved by the following anecdote, related
by the Hon. and Rev. W. H. Hexrsert :—

*T once caught half a dozen Goldcrested Kinglets at the
beginning of winter, and they lived extremely well upon egg
and meat, being exceedingly tame. At roosting time there was
always a whimsical conflict amongst them for the inside places,
as being the warmest, which ended of course by the weakest
going to the wail. The scene began with alow whistling call f
amongst them to roost, and the two birds on the extreme right
and left flew on the backs of those in the centre, and squeezed
themselves into the middle. A fresh couple from the flanks
immediately renewed the attack upon the centre, and the con-

* The word Falconine is here used ina strictly scientific sense, to denote the
members of the subfamily Falconine.

+ In many districts it is not a brake bird, but thousands may be seen on our
commons and furze-brakes, and I have taken the nest in a furze bush. —E. BLyTH,

+ See the Art. “‘ REDEYED WHINLING,”’ p. 122.

neater a.

138 THE GOLDCRESTED KINGLET.

flict continued till the light began to fail them. A severe frost
in February killed all but one of them in one night, though in
a furnished drawing-room. The survivor was preserved in a
little cage by burying it every night under the sofa cushions;
but having been one sharp morning taken from under them
before the room was sufficiently warmed by the fire, though
perfectly well when removed, it was dead in ten minutes.”

Though it can, in ordinary winters, keep itself warm by
being in constent motion, yet in severe seasons, I am convinced
that numbers of them do perish, having, on several occasions,
found five or six of them huddled together in outhouses, holes
of trees, &c., where they had evidently assembled for the sake
of warmth, and, the frost having continued, had died; they
were generally in good case, but sometimes very thin. In mild
and open seasons they do not perish in great numbers, but
only single individuals. Even last winter (1834) I found
several dead at different times; but these had fallen a victim
to the warmth of the season, and from a superabundance of
food, being generally very fat, and having the caudal gland
much swollen. A moderately severe season is always much
more healthy for the feathered race than very mild ones, the
extremes of either warmth or cold being almost equally noxious
to them.

The song of the Goldcrested Kinglet is very soft and rather
sweet, but uttered in so extremely low a tone as to be scarcely
audible unless you are quite close to it. It is heard very
early in spring, or rather very early in the year, generally com-
mencing about the beginning or middle of February, but some-
times so soon as the end of January, especially if the weather
be fine. In autumn and winter it betakes itself to the hedges,
where it often admits of a very near approach, and is easily
shot. From the circumstance of its frequenting hedge-rows
during the winter months, I have frequently heard it called the
‘“ hedge wren,” which is applicable as far as hedge, but the
bird has obviously but little connexion with the genus Wren
(Anorthura). In one habit which it possesses, that of making

THE GOLDCRESTED KINGLET. 139

an occasional bow and cock of the tail, it certainly resembles
the Ivy Wren, but in everything else the species are en-
tirely dissimilar. ‘This bowing motion is not very commonly
observed in the Goldcrested Kinglet, but most so in the breed-
ing season, though I have seen it occasionally at other times.*

Its call-note is single, very low, and weak, and constantly
uttered while the bird is engaged in gleaning its scanty fare
from the trees. In winter it is a very pleasing sight to the
Ornithologist to watch a pack of these sprightly and interesting
birds playing about the trees, and enlivening the whole wood
with their oft-repeated and plaintive chirp. In summer they
mostly conceal themselves amongst the gloomy shade afforded
by the larch and fir, but in winter the bare hedges and branches
of the oak and elm appear to hold out a better chance of a live-
lihood, and here the Naturalist may watch them for hours
sporting about the naked twigs of the young trees.

In cold weather it has much less the appearance of being
cold and starved than many birds of a stouter make, as the
Robin Redbreast, Hedge Dunnock, and others. Indeed it
appears to sustain the animal heat within its tiny and delicate
frame by rapid and unceasing motion; but, when the raging
blasts and the full rigour of winter do come, the business is
soon done, and dozens of them fall a victim to the severity of
the climate. When the cold is very intense, they approach
much nearer to houses than they commonly de, and frequently
beg for food along with the Robin Redbreast, House Sparrow,
Chaff Finch, Garden Ouzel, Common Gallinule (Gallinula chlo-
ropus), and others. I have also found them dead in the holes
of the thatched roofs of out-buildings, and in holes of walls
covered with ivy. Sometimes too I have known it take shelter
in the warm and mossy cell of the Ivy Wren, during a storm
or severe gale.

The Goldcrested Kinglet generally sings from a perch, either

* When two of them fight, which they do desperately in spring, they bow away
at each other at a famous rate.—E. BL7TH.

140 ‘THE GOLDCRESTED KINGLET.

in a fir-tree, or in a thick hedge, but sometimes also suspended
on the wing, or while flying from tree to tree. In this it inti-
mately resembles the Warblers (Sylvia), to which, indeed, it is
closely allied, both in habits and general appearance.

Whilst singing, it seldom remains long on the wing, nor
does it, at any time, during its stay with us, indulge in long-
protracted flights. From seeing its irregular, and apparently
weak flight in passing through the air ona stormy day, you
would consider it but ill calculated for winging its way over
the sea, to distant climes; but that it does perform such
journeys, is too well known to admit of a doubt. They are,
certainly, often much fatigued by the exertion, especially in
rough weather, but such fatigue is, and must be, experienced,
in different degrees, by all migratory birds, and even by the
most powerfully winged species, as the Swallows (Hirundo)
and the swifts (Cypselus). It is probable that the British-born
individuals never quit us, but the migratory part of them dis-
appear before the breeding season. No author mentions the
time of their departure for the north, but, from what I have
observed, I should be inclined to fix it somewhere in February,
having found their numbers greatly to decrease about the end
of that month, though those that remain are easily seen till the
leaves come on the trees, when there is often much difficulty in
getting a sight of them.

The companies or packs break up about the middle of
February, when the males commence their low and somewhat
plaintive song, and are now often seen perched on the top
sprig of a hedge, or hovering over it on the wing. No sooner
have they paired, than all their shy summer habits return,
they entirely forsake the neighbourhood of houses and gardens,
and retire into the thick, gloomy, and impenetrable shade of
the pine and larch woods, where they prepare for the im-
portant business of incubation, and once more resume their
family cares.

The nest is usually attached to the under side of the branches
of the fir and larch, with great ingenuity, being sometimes

x

THE GOLDCRESTED KINGLET. 14]

fastened on with cocoons, spiders’ webs, and similar sub-
stances, but perhaps more commonly with nothing but green
moss. The size of the nest corresponds to that of the bird, is
very deep, and consists of green moss, intermixed with a few
lichens, and occasionally with spiders’ webs. Inside, it is
lined with a profusion of feathers, which often render it difficult
to perceive the contents of the nest, or whether or not it be
occupied at all. The nest is very difficult to discover, as its
colour so closely assimilates with that of the branch to which
it is suspended. Were it not for this circumstance, nothing
would be easier than to take the female while sitting, for, not-
withstanding the noise that may be made in finding it, she
seldom flies away until you have almost touched her.

The eggs, from six to ten in number, but most commonly
eight, are of a reddish brown colour, and very small. They
vary somewhat in tint, but not in size. The eggs are often
(by compliers and book Naturalists) said to be of the size of a
pea; and some even go so far as to say a small pea. This,
however, is manifestly absurd, and could not possibly be
maintained by any one who had ever seen the objects thus
sagaciously compared—viz. the egg of the Goldcrested Kinglet
and a pea !—Take the largest pea you can find, and see if the
egg is not at least as big again as the pea. I never myself
weighed the eggs, but SzLtpy mentions that they weigh from
nine to ten grains each.

The nest is sometimes found in the midst of a thick holly
bush, occasionally, amongst the foliage of young oaks, and also,
though much more rarely, and only in lack of more favourable
localities, atthe tops of lofty hedges. It does not limit itself to
any particular height, sometimes building near the summit of
a lofty fir tree, and at other times only two or three feet from
the ground. The circumstance mentioned by one of our first
field Naturalists (Mupie), of the eggs of this bird being fre-
quently deserted, is, I] should think, only of casual occurrence,
being occasioned by the nest having been disturbed. Some
nests also were, [ am convinced, never intended to contain eggs.

142 THE GOLDCRESTED KINGLET.

Many birds, and especially the Garden Thrush and Ivy Wren,
appear to make nests in the early part of the season merely
for the sake of practice. These essays are seldom finished, and
are probably the work of yearling birds, unexperienced in the
architectural lioe.*

The food of this species consists of small insects, which it
seeks diligently and continually amongst the branches and
trunks of trees, andalso larve. They often associate in winter
with the Coal and Marsh Tits, and likewise with the Blue and
Longtailed Tits, but much less commonly with the latter than
the former. Generally, however, they are met with by them-
selves, in companies of twenty or thirty, and I know nothing
more delightful, in the whole range of ornithological observa-
tion, than to watch these charming little fairies sporting about
in all directions, with an endless variety of movements, and
filling the air with their chirp of joy. They are little afraid of
man, and when they conceal themselves amidst the dense foliage
of the fir, it is not so much the shyness of their disposition, as
the abundance of their favourite food, that induces them to
spend their summer days amongst those trees. If you only
remain quiet for a few minutes near a tree where you observe
them to be feeding, they will shortly show themselves, and
may possibly perch within two or three yards of you, amusing
you with their soft whispering strains. In winter, no pre-
cautions are necessary for observing them, as they then chiefly
haunt the naked branches of oak and elm trees, where they
will sometimes stay for hours together, and then suddenly
dart off in a body, in the manner of the Tits, to which, as has
already been observed, they bear considerable resemblance, but
are altogether much more slender and delicate.

Mr. BiytuH informs me that he has seen a yolkless egg of
the Goldcrested Kinglet, which was lent him by a friend, and
which he states to be of the size of rather a small pea! and

* The young make a loud sibilous noise when nearly ready to fly, by which I
have often been enabled to trace out the nest.—E. BLYTH.

THE FIRECRESTED KINGLET. 1

Dr. LiverPooLt mentions the same circumstance. The bird
itself is also occasionally subject to variety.* At the British
Museum is a white individual, with pale orange colour on the
crown of the head, and very pale yellow on the back, scarcely
perceptible at the tail. This remarkable specimen is now of
a dirty white, but I should imagine that it was bright coloured
when alive. My Cambridge correspondent, Mr. H. Bartow,
writes me word that he has seen one with the tips of the
wings and tail white, the crest yellow, and the rest of the body
of the ordinary colour. Mr. B. saw this specimen in an aviary,
belonging to a gentleman near Cambridge, in whose possession
it had been three years.

Firecrestep Kineet, Regulus ignicapillus, Mupin.

Small as thou art, thou gem-like bird,
Yet thou hast made thy nest on high ;
And there thy warbling voice is heard,
Singing thy children’s lullaby.
Lovely bird, with thy golden crown,
A kind and tender nurse art thou,
Making thy nest of moss and down,
And hanging it on the bending bough.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SynonymMs.— Sylvia ignicapilla, TemM. Man. d’Orn.— Regulus ignicapillus,
MUuDIE’s Feath. Tribes.—Analyst, No. 13.—Roitelet huppé, VIEILL. Ois d’ Amer.
Sept.—Roitelet triple-bandeau, TemM. Man. d’Orn.— Firecrested Kinglet,
Analyst, No. 13.—N. Woop’s Orn. Text-book.

Tue Firecrested Kinglet was wholly unknown to the older
Ornithologists, and even to the celebrated Naturalists Linn&=us
and Laruam, having been confounded, till about fifteen or sixteen
years ago, with the Goldcrested Kinglet, of which it was also
supposed, by some authors, to be a variety. But as there is

* They vary much in the degree of brightness of the crown, and that not ac-

cording to age. Out ofa thousand, however, a regular variety is seldom met
with.—E. BLYTH.

144 THE FIRECRESTED KINGLET.

no such thing, in the whole range of Zoology, as a fixed or
permanent variety, it at length became obvious that it must be
a distinct species, and it was, accordingly, characterized as such,
by M. Breum, and, after him, by TemMinck, in the second
edition of his Manuel d’ Ornithologie.

It has probably inhabited Britain as long as its Goldcrested
congener, but has, here as elsewhere, been confounded with
that bird, their general appearance almost warranting such a
conclusion, unless the two species are compared, and then the
specific distinction is sufficiently obvious, to the experienced
Naturalist. According to TeEMMINCcK it inhabits “ pine and fir
forests; frequently also gardens; rarely occurs in Germany
and in the east, whilst it is abundant in France and Belgium.
In winter it is constantly seen amongst the pine and fir trees
at the Jardin du Roi, at Paris.” This is all that I have been
able to glean on the habits of this bird, the descriptions of the
few authors who notice it at all, being meagre and unsatis-
factory in the extreme. I should think, however, that its
economy does not differ materially from that of the Goldcrested
Kinglet. Setspy makes no mention of the bird, but I refer
my readers, for an interesting account of its discovery as a
British species, to Mupin’s Feathered Tribes, a work which
should be in the hands, if not in the head, of every British
Ornithologist. As the Firecrested Kinglet is so little known,
I shall translate TemMINckK’s description of its plumage, in
order that my readers may be enabled to identify the species,
should they ever be fortunate enough to obtain a specimen .—

Plumage.—On the cheeks are three longitudinal stripes, two
white, and one black; the crest of the male bright orange ;
bill compressed, rather strong at the base.

Upper parts olive green, which melts on the sides of the neck
into a large yellowish patch; feathers of the head and occiput
long, and streaked with very bright fire colour; these are
enclosed on each side with deep black feathers which unite on
the forehead, where they form a transverse band; above and
beneath the eyes, runs a white stripe, and across the eye is a

THE FIRECRESTED KINGLET. 145

narrow blackish streak ; feathers of the forehead reddish; on
the wings are two stripes, which fringe the quiils in the same
manner as in the preceding species. The colours of the lower
parts, irides, feet and bill are the same (as in the Goldcrested
Kinglet.)

The female has the same stripes as the male, only the white
is less pure, and the black not so deep; the feathers of the
crest orange, appearing faded; the large black stripe at the
side of the crest, is of a deep black, but not shining: the
space on the sides of the neck, which is yellowish in the male,
is olive green in the female.

I make no doubt but this species will henceforth be found to
be at least as plentiful as the Goldcrested Kinglet, having re-
ceived several reports of it from different parts of the country.
By ordinary observers it will still be confounded with its con-
gener, but it is to be hoped that the exertions of Ornithologists
will shortly bring to light its now obscure history. My valued
friend and correspondent, Epwarp Buytu, says:—“<I am
very much mistaken indeed, if I did not discover the Fire-
crested Kinglet, in the neighbourhood of Worcester, among
the aboriginal yews, which twisted their antique boughs in
sombre grandeur upon a sandstone precipice overhanging the
Severn. Unfortunately, I had no gun with me, so failed in the
endeavour to precure a specimen; but the locality is noted for
the future.”

Dr. Liverpoor informs me he is confident he has shot the
bird in Kent, but it was many years ago, and he then supposed
it to be merely a variety of the Goldcrested Kinglet.

146 THE IVY WREN.

Genus ANORTHURA,* Renniz. WREN.

Ivy Wren, Anorthura troglodytes, Morris.

Within thy warm and mossy cell,

Where scarce ’twould seem thyself could dwell,

Twice eight, a speckled brood we tell,
Nestling beneath thy wing!

And still unwearied, many a day,
Thy little partner loves io stay,
Perched on some trembling timber spray,
Beside his mate to sing.
Anonymous.

Synonyms.—Motacilla troglodytes, Linn. Syst.—Sylvia troglodytes, LATH. Ind.
Orn.—Troglodytes Europzeus, Cuv. Régne Anim.—Anorthura troglodytes,
Morris’s Cat. Br. Birds.—Analyst, Ne. 13.—Common Wren, SELBY’S Br. Orn.
—Ivy Wren, Analyst, No. 13.—N. Woon’s Orn. Text-book.

Tue Ivy Wren is little superior in size to the Goldcrested
Kinglet, and is common and indigenous in every part of Britain,
being an extremely hardy little creature. Its bill is longer,
and its tail shorter, than those of most other members of the
family, and the prevailing colour of the body is dark brown.
The tail is often held at a right angie with the body, and is
always more or less cocked.

The haunts, habits, and general appearance of this species
are wholly distinct from those of the birds we have hitherto
described. Most of the true Sylviade (Warbler family) are inha-
bitants of the woods, or of furzy commons and extensive heathy
wastes. The Ivy Wren, however, frequents outhouses, heaps
of wood, dead hedges, and other localities assimilating closely
with its own colour. In such places it conceals itself sedu-
lously throughout the year, being mostly observed singly or in

* Though I think, with SeLey, that the natural station of Anorthura is not
amongst the Sylviane, I am compelled to place it here in this work, in order to
include it among the British Songsters.

THE IVY WREN. 147

pairs. It is not a very shy bird, but is fond of seclusion,
always keeping close to the ground, flying low,* and rarely
perching on trees. It is extremely expert in threading the
small interstices of the thick hedges and tangled brakes which
are its favourite haunts, and is on that account difficult to be
seen, though, when it does sally forth from its retreat, it often
admits of a very near approach. The bowing of the head ob-
served in some birds, may also be seen in this, not so commonly
as in the Rebin Redbreast, but much more frequently than in
the Goldcrested Kinglet; it is most common in the breeding
season, or rather when the males are in song, which is the
greater part of the year.

I am inclined to think that our tiny songster pairs for life,
having frequently observed the same pair near a particular
spot for days together, in the middle of winter, and, on shoot-
ing one of these, the other has been seen hopping about the
place alone, uttering without ceasing a shrill mournful note, as
if wailing for its deceased partner. It is probable that many
of our resident birds, as the Robin Redbreast, Ivy Wren, Chaff
Finch, and others, which have hitherto been supposed to choose
a fresh mate every year, pair for life. At least, ] am certain of
this, that many of the pairs remain attached through the win-
ter; but with regard to their coupling for life, it is impossible
to speak with any certainty.

The song is short in stave, shrill, and remarkably loud in
proportion 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 ac-
count of their being frequently heard in mid-winter, when a
mere scream would almost seem sweet, especially if it pro-
ceeded 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

* It flies in the same manner as the Dipper and Kingfisher, with a smooth even
motion, constantly fluttering with the wings.—E,. BLyTu.

Tope

tt ae erat nema

148 THE IVY WREN.

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 under-wood, 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 dimen-
sions, so loud and clear are they. It often sings also whilst
flying from bush to bush, in the manner of the Warblers, and
I have even known a male bird sing while pursuing one of its
kind. The usual call note is also harsh and garrulous. As a
song bird, I do not think it worth keeping in a cage, especially
as it is very difficult to preserve. With a little care, however,
I have no doubt it would bear confinement very well, having
myself kept one in a cage nearly three weeks. This bird,
which was caught in an outhouse, during a severe storm in the
winter of 1831, fed readily on bruised hemp-seed and bread,
with the occasional addition of a few insects. It was not so
wild as might have been expected, but remarkably active, and
in constant motion. Having thus ascertained that it might be
preserved in confinement without much difficulty, I turned it
loose, and had the satisfaction of seeing it come to be fed al-
most every morning in the winter, which convinced me that it
was not displeased with the liberty I had taken, of caging it
for a few days.

The Ivy Wren pairs in February, and the nest is sometimes
commenced so early as the end of March, though if the spring
be a backward one, not till the beginning of April. The nest
is a curious and beautiful structure, and has engaged the atten-
tion of all who take the slightest interest in Ornithology. The
exterior usually consists entirely of green moss, with a few
small twigs round the entrance ; the inside is generally, though
not always, lined with feathers. The places in which it may
be sought for are, the thatched roofs of outhouses, where it

THE IVY WREN. 149

makes use of the holes of House Sparrows and Spotted Star-
lings, ivy-clad walls and trees, mossy banks, or low bushes.
These are its usual sites; but the bird is not very nice in the
choice of a situation for its nest. I have found it on the branches
of wall-fruit trees, at the tops of raspberries and honeysuckles,
amongst the dense foliage of the fir, in hollow trees, on the luxu-
riant clematis on the tops and sides of arbours, in hop trellises,
and also, though not very frequently, at the corners of hay-
lofts, granaries, and similar places; I have likewise seen it
under the thatch of hay and corn-ricks. Few birds build in
such a variety of localities, and fewer still display so much di-
versity in the structure itself. It has already been observed,
that moss is the principal material of the nest in ordinary lo-
calities. It will be necessary, however, to notice some of the
varieties to which the structure is subject.

Of the above-mentioned deviations from the usual locality,
I have found the building in raspberry bushes to be the most
common, and in such I have had frequent opportunities of ob-
serving the method in which the little domicile is framed. It
is a curious, and, to Naturalists, a well known fact, that this
bird varies the materials of its nest according to the situation
in which it is placed; and, accordingly, those built in ivy-clad
walls or trees, and in mossy places of any kind, invariably con-
sist almost wholly of green moss outside. But when it builds
in raspberry bushes, scarce a particle of green moss is used,
the whole structure, both externally and internally, being
composed of the leaves of the raspberry. This is one of the
most extraordinary departures from the ordinary mode of
nest-building, with which I am acquainted; and, though
three or four instances of it have fallen under my observation,
it appears to have been noticed by no writers on British
Ornithology, whose works I have consulted.

The course taken by this bird in building its curious nest, is
accurately, though not very minutely related, by Setsy. First
a kind of cup, shaped like an ordinary nest, is made; next the
sides and roof or ‘‘ dome” are erected, and the whole exterior

150 THE IVY WREN.

rendered smooth and even, leaving a small opening towards the
top, and twining a few slender twigs round the entrance, to
make the whole firm. The last operation consists in establish-
ing a feather-bed inside, for the reception of the nestlings.
When composed of leaves, however, it is lined merely with a
few horse-hairs, which is remarkable enough, as the leaves
must obviously be much less warm and comfortable than soft
moss ; but the fact is certain. The raspberry leaves, when first
laid, are always fresh and green, but become quite brown and
autumnal in the course of a few days.

In the case of the Ivy Wren building in raspberry bushes,
with the leaves of the same shrub, the colour of the nest was
certainly singularly well adapted to its locality. In one in-
stance, however, | remember to have found the nest between
two of the dense flakes of foliage (so to speak) of the fir tree,
and composed entirely of beech and oak leaves, with the usual
intermixture of moss and slender twigs, which was evidently
but ill calculated to conceal the structure. This specimen was
loosely put together, and never contained more than three eggs,
after which it was (not unwisely) deserted. In cutting off the
branch on which it rested, the nest—like a house built on the
sand—fell to pieces. It was lined with horse-hair and a few
feathers. One that I once saw in a pear tree against the wall,
was composed of the usual materials. It very frequently
builds in the hollows and clefts of trees, or in banks, where
the entrance is often so small as scarcely to admit even an Ivy
Wren, and such situations generally conceal the snug little
tenement from the keen eyes and merciless claws of the truant
schoolboy.

But perhaps the most remarkable locality of the nest of this
bird, which has come to my notice, was inside that of a
Chimney Swallow (Hirundo urbica), under the eaves of a roof.
The nest had evidently contained young, but these had escaped,
when the double nest was dislodged, towards the latter part of
April. I have frequently seen this remarkable specimen, and,
if I remember rightly, an account of it has lately appeared in

THE IVY WREN. 151

the Magazine of Natural History, but I cannot now refer to
the exact place. There was nothing remarkable about the nest
itself.

In other instances, I have known it build under the thatch
of hay stacks, where it was composed of the usual green moss,
but mixed with hay, and sparingly lined with feathers. The
whole is well concealed from view, being covered over with
stalks of hay, without which precaution it must be a very
conspicuous object. Twice also have I found it in hay lofts,
amongst heaps of faggots and other wood collected for winter
use. Both of these nests came to a singularly unhappy fate.
In one, the usual number of eggs was laid, but, just when the
female was on the point of hatching, the loft happened to be
shut up for several days together; and, as there was no hole
large enough to allow even an Ivy Wren to pass, the necessary
consequence was, that the bird was starved to death. When
the room was re-opened, I visited the nest, and, on putting
my finger into the snug little structure, found the female
sitting. Unwilling to disturb her, I instantly withdrew my
hand, but, to my no small surprise, she continued sitting. It
was now clear that all could not be going on right, and, on
extracting the little creature, found that it was in its last sleep.
Just at this instant, the male entered at the recently opened
door, and flew around me with the most evident signs of con-
cern and distress. ‘The female was in tolerably ‘‘ good case,”’
but her death was evidently owing to starvation. The young
birds, five in number, and very lately hatched, were quite
dead. Three eggs, one of which was addled, remained in the
nest. The other nest, also built amongst faggots, in a hayloft,
was converted by the mice into a storehouse for half-chewed
corn, bits of apple, cheese, and sundry other dainties; the
eggs, seven in number, having been duly devoured or ejected,
and the dome of the nest almost torn off. This is a parallel
case to that related in the article ‘‘ Garden Ouzel,”’ of the rats
taking possession of the nest of that bird.

It is one of the disputed points in Ornithology, whether the

hS 4 THE IVY WREN.

Ivy Wren does, or does not, line its nest with feathers. The
solution of this question is sufficiently easy, and the only
wonder is, how any one could entertain the slightest doubt as
to the true state of the case. The fact is, that the nest is
generally lined with a profusion of feathers, but there are
many which do not contain a single feather. I do not pretend
to make any subtle reasonings on this circumstance, but merely
present my readers with the plain fact, which almost any one
may verify for himself.

The Ivy Wren often builds nests which never contain eggs ;
these are called “‘ cock nests” in some parts of England, being
supposed to be the work of the male: here, however, they are
more commonly known by the name of “ fallow nests.” It is
also the opinion of some writers, that these “‘ cock” or “fallow
nests” are built by the male, for the purpose of drawing away
the attention of nest plunderers from the real structure. This
might be a plausible theory enough for the closet speculator
and compiler ; but as, in the biographies of birds, facts are of
infinitely more weight than hypotheses, I shall proceed to state
my objections to the above-mentioned supposition.

First, then, though I have often discovered these ‘fallow
nests” near those which contained eggs or young, yet I have
observed that such have invariably been the first architectural
attempts of young birds of the year, or else that they have
been built as a winter retreat. Secondly, I have found from
personal observation, that both birds assist in building the
nest.* And, in the third place, they are always con-
structed at the beginning, or towards the end of the breed-
ing season. For these reasons, I confidently deny that the
untenanted nests are built by the males, whilst the female
is sitting. And, indeed, I may be allowed to ask, why
should this bird alone possess so extraordinary an instinct for
the preservation of its nest? I say preservation, because it has

* Inall birds, I believe the male collects the material, and the female arranges
them. I have particularly noticed this in the Ivy Wren and Longtailed Tit.—
EK, BLyTH.

THE IVY WREN. 153

been supposed that they are built with the view of preventing
the discovery of the furnished or inhabited apartment; but I
am of opinion that it would have exactly the opposite effect,
namely, that of stimulating the bird-nester to continue his re-
searches. Success naturally stimulates to farther exertion, and
so, if 1 am not greatly mistaken, it would be in this case,
Accounting for the circumstance by supposing these nests to
be the productions of young and inexperienced architects, we
find many parallel cases in other species. Nothing is commoner
than to find half finished or clumsily constructed nests of the
Garden Thrush, Garden Ouzel, Hedge Dunnock, Goldcrested
Kinglet, and many others, which are invariably commenced very
early in the season, as none of these birds make any use of
their nests but in the breeding time. But the Ivy Wren often
builds itself a dwelling in Autumn, and lodges in it on cold
nights. These nests are mostly constructed in the usual loca-
lities, though I once found one situated inside an old Garden
Thrush’s nest, in a Portugal laurel. Frequently, also, the
nests in which one or two broods had been reared in the sum-
mer, are tenanted every night throughout the winter,—whether
by the old or the young birds, is a question more curious than
easy to determine, on account of the difficulty, almost amount-
ing to impracticability, of catching:the birds at night. This I
have repeatedly endeavoured to effect, with a view of settling
the point, but without success.

I have already expressed an opinion, that the Ivy Wren may
possibly pair for life ; and this supposition is greatly strength-
ened by the fact of two birds generally (always?) assisting in
constructing the winter nests. I have never known an instance
in which the tenement was fabricated by solitary labour, and
I am enabled to speak the more positively on this point, from
having frequently observed the operations of the skilful little
architects from behind a bush or tree. The winter nests seldom
or never contain feathers, but in other respects they agree with
the usual structures. Ido not think it isa very common oc-
currence for this bird to build in autumn or winter, as, if it

154 THE IVY WREN.

can have its summer nest to lodge in, there is no necessity for
constructing a duplicate, but, in this neighbourhood at least,
it is not very rare.

One point regarding the nidification of this little songster,
yet remains unnoticed. However its nest may differ in other
particulars, it always agrees in this, that, around the entrance,
moss and small twigs are invariably woven. Without this
precaution, it is probable that the nest, being composed almost
wholly of moss, would soon lose its beauty and symmetry,
from the constant ingress and egress of the parent birds. This
is sO prominent a feature in the structure, that almost every
one who is at all interested in this delightful branch of Natural
Science, must have remarked it, though I believe it is mentioned
by none of our ornithological writers.

The eggs, from five to eight in number, are of a pure white,
or sometimes dusky, spotted with reddish brown at the larger
end. The circumstance mentioned by the older Ornithologists,
and still echoed by the compilers of the present day,* of the
Ivy Wren’s laying eighteen or twenty eggs, is wholly incorrect ;
eight being, according to my experience, the usual number ;
there are sometimes fewer, but, I believe, never more. How
this mistake with regard to the number of its eggs could possibly
arise, it passeth my understanding to determine; not only has
it been repeated by authors of good repute, however, but most
sagacious reflections have likewise been made on the circum-
stance, to wit, how so smail a bird should be able to support so
large a family, without ever missing an individual, and feeding
them all in order, also as to the wisdom of Providence, and so
forth—all which sage and profound observations were founded
on what has never taken place. If halfthe time that is spent in
drawing such pseudo-philosophic conclusions from unproved
assertions, were employed in observing and recording new
facts, our acquaintance with the habits and general economy

* L know not what the Prince of Compilers may have pasted into his ‘‘ faulty
Dictionary’’ on this subject, as I never take the needless trouble of referring to
his unskilful botchings and hashes, but some other book Naturalists are still
enueayouring to perpetuate this error to the best of their ability.

THE IVY WREN. 155

of the feathered race would be much more intimate and ac-
curate.

The Ivy Wren displays not a little pugnacity in its dispo-
sition, and, like that of all other birds, this is most observable
in the breeding season. I well remember, that whilst walking
with a friend in a solitary wood, some years ago, a violent
rustling of the leaves in a neighbouring bush arrested our at-
tention. On peering into the shrub, we found two of these
birds in such close and fierce combat, that nothing would have
been easier than to have made them both prisoners. On part-
ing them, one of them appeared glad enough of a chance of
escape, and skulked amongst the thick bushes, whilst the other,
perched on a neighbouring tree, poured forth the joyous song
of victory. After the lapse of a few minutes, however, the
vanquished was furiously chased through bush and brake, and
the pursuit continued as far as the eye could penetrate. The
conquered party appeared to have received some injury in one
of its wings, and flew with difficulty. Probably it had been
relieved of some of its quill feathers in the late conflict.

Though a very hardy bird, usually braving the rigours of our
northern winters, yet, in extremely severe seasons, great num-
bers do perish, equal victims to hunger and cold. It is said to
have been sometimes found dead in ‘holes of thatched roofs and
other places, and that several stow themselves into the same
retreat, in order to keep each other—or rather themselves—
warm ; but I have never discovered more than one in a hole,
though that pretty frequently. It often chooses its own nest
for its sepulchre, but perhaps as commonly selects the first cosy
spot that offers itself. I have generally found them in a hard
and frozen state, and though they may have lain in the grave
several months, yet—provided the frost has not relented—the
bodies do not exhibit the slightest symptoms of putrescence.

It is worthy of remark, that the Ivy Wren is a pretty con-
stant attendant on the Coal and Marsh Tits and the Gold-
crested Kinglet, especially the latter, and that where the one
is, the other is almost sure to be also. Thus, whilst the Gold-
crested Kinglet is exploring the branches and twigs of the

156 THE GARDEN TIT.

mighty oak and the lofty pine, the Ivy Wren is equally busily
employed in the humbler task of scouring the brakes and
bushes beneath. LRoth species are remarkably active and in
constant motion.

The food of the Ivy Wren consists of various insects and

their larve, and frequently also—which is not noticed by
authors—of red currants, which it sometimes devours in great
plenty in sultry seasons. Insect food, however, forms by far
the greater portion of its subsistence, and fruit is probably
only resorted to when its favourite fare becomes scarce, and
difficult to procure.
_ I am not aware that this species is subject to variety; and
the female resembles the male so closely, as to be distinguished
only by the practised eye of the Ornithologist. Mr. Biytn,
however, informs me that he has seen two or three pale, semi-
albino specimens.

SuBraM. IV. —PARIANZ.
Genus PARUS, Antiq. TIT.

GarvEN Tit, Parus hortensis, C. T. Woop.

It is the very carnival of Nature,
The loveliest season that the year can show !
When earth, obedient to her great Creator,
Her richest boons delighteth to bestow.
‘The gently-sighing breezes, as they blow,
Have more than vernal softness: and the sun
Sheds on the landscape round a mellower glow
Than in the summer splendour he has done,
As if he near’d his goal, and knew the race was won.
BERNARD BaRTON’S Poems.

Synonyvms.—Parus major, LINN. Syst.—LatTH. Ind. Orn.—Parus hortensis,
Analyst, No. 13.—Great Tit, MupIxz’s Feath. Tribes.x—Garden Tit, Analyst,
No. 13.

Tue Garden Tit is the largest British species of the genus,
and, like its brethren, tarries with us throughout the year,
being abundantly distributed in every part of the kingdom,

THE GARDEN TIT. 157

but most so in the wooded and enclosed districts. Though
considerably larger and bulkier than the other British Tits, yet
in habits and general appearance it so closely resembles them,
that I think even the most inveterate genus-makers could
scarcely have the face to shove it out of its now somewhat dig-
nified station (not only at the head of its genus, but also of its
subfamily), parting it, like the African slaves, from its nearest
and dearest connexions, and leaving it to shift for itself in a
new and isolated settlement! At present, however, we have
little to do with its family concerns, and will therefore pass on
to the investigation of its habits as an individual, though not
as a bachelor, for it is at all times a friendly and companion-
able bird, but approaches less towards being gregarious than
the Coal and Marsh Tits, or even than the Blue Tit—its imme-
diate neighbour.

In Derbyshire, as elsewhere, it is very abundant, and easily
met with at all times of the year, either in woods or little-fre-
quented gardens, especially kitchen gardens, where, as we
shall presently find, it is a most unwelcome intruder.

The Garden Tit possesses no song,* nor has it such a variety
of chirps at its command as some of its relatives. One or two
of these, however, deserve attention, though they have little
more to recommend them, in a musical point of view, than the
grunt of a pig, or the sharpening of asaw. And to the latter
sound, in fact, has one of its notes been compared, though, to
say the truth, the resemblance is not very obvious. It is more
like the noise produced by passing a file slowly over a block of
iron, but it is not exactly similar to this, nor perhaps to any
other sound with which we are acquainted. This is, however,
by no means its commonest note, nor to be heard every day,

* This is a mistake; I have since frequently heard it sing. The strain some-
what resembles the monotonous ditty of the Hedge Warbler, and it sings as dili-
gently as that bird when once it does begin, though in general it is by no means a
continuous or garrulous songster. Its song consists only of two notes, repeated
alternately, and in rapid succession. The notes are at the interval of a major
third from each other.

158 THE GARDEN TIT.

except where the bird is extremely abundant. On ordinary
occasions it uses the usual short Tit-like chirp; and has one
note exactly resembling the twink or pink of the Chaff Finch,
which is immediately followed up by two or three shorter and
more original notes. I say ‘‘ more original,” because, if one
did not suppose the éwink to come from the throat of the Chaff
Finch, one might at least reasonably imagine the bird to have
obtained it second-hand, and, like a certain Professor, of Alpha-
bet celebrity, to have presented us with property not its own!
An ordinary observer might think that the note proceeded from
two throats, and that the instant the blithe Chaff Finch had
sounded his bell, the Garden Tit furnished a chiming inter-
lude, as much inferior (to compare small things with great) to
the tert, as are the “ pig’s tail ornaments” of the organist to
the solemn grandeur of the psalm-tune.

But the Ornithologist soon discovers that there must be
something at the bottom of this seeming mystery, and, repair-
ing to the well-known haunts of the Garden Tit, is not long
before he finds out that the aforesaid note, so far from belong-
ing to two birds, may in fact be considered one note, as the two
seldom or never part company. For the rest, the subject of
our present memoir has little to boast of on the score of musical
capability.

The nest is usually deposited in the hole of an old wall or
castle, and frequently under the eaves of houses and in the
holes of trees. When it breeds in the last-mentioned locality,
Sexsy is of opinion that the hole is fitted for the reception of
the nest solely by the labours of the parent bird. I am, how-
ever, inclined to favour a somewhat different conclusion. From
all that I have observed, I think I may say, that it either selects
a hole ready made, or else fits up one only partially adapted to
its purposes. That it possesses considerable powers of excava-
tion, with its short and strong beak, I am well aware, but am
of opinion that it could scarcely achieve so great a labour as
the digging a hole of the ordinary depth and breadth at which
the nest is found. This is not, however, a reflection hatched

THE GARDEN TIT. 159

and prepared for the press, in the closet; for after witnessing
(as I have done) the wonderful excavating powers of the Bank
Swallow (Hirundo riparia, AupRov.) scarcely anything would
appear marvellous, but, though I have paid considerable atten-
tion to everything concerning the nidification of the Garden
Tit, I have never been able to discover that it engages in so
hopeless and thankless a task as scooping itself a hole in a
sound tree. In this neighbourhood, where—thanks to the
wood-cutters!—timber of any kind is so scarce, it is little
likely that, were SeLBy’s opinion right, the fact would have
escaped my observation, and in places where large trees, both
sound and rotten, abound, one can hardly imagine that the
former would be selected. Thus, though I have frequently
witnessed the first attacks of the Garden Tit on the spot chosen
for incubation, I never saw, and never expect to see, a sound
tree (i. e. an unexcavated one) singled out for the purpose.

The organ of Secretiveness is probably amply developed in
this species, as it commonly conceals its nest with great cir-
cumspection, often beyond the reach of the schoolboy, and is
very jealous of being observed near the nest, or carrying mate-
rials for the structure, or food for the callow young. On one
occasion a pair of these birds built their nest so far up in the
eaves of a house, between the rafters, that, though I removed
a considerable portion of the wooden barrier, the nest could
not be obtained, the female continuing on her nest, during
these uncourteous proceedings, with exemplary perseverance,
and hissing all the time like a snake, whilst her mate, hover-
ing about the roof, above my head, signified his displeasure by
unceasingly uttering his jarring note—grinding his teeth at me,
as it were, in the manner of the Monkey family (Simiade).
And this nook has been found so convenient a site for the rear-
ing of their offspring, that the same pair have now built in it
for three successive seasons, and will probably continue to do
so for many more.

The materials of the nest are moss, feathers, and horsehair,
the two former in great profusion, and the whole mass put

160 THE GARDEN TIT.

together loosely, and apparently carelessly, but not without an
eye to comfort. All nests built in holes of walls or trees, or in
thatch, are constructed with little art, as the situation makes
up for the deficiencies in the architecture itself. Look, for
instance, at two nests of the House Sparrow, the one situate
in a hole, and the other at the top of a bush or low tree; the
first is a mere loose mass of feathers and hay, carelessly thrown
together, while the other plainly proves that the organ of Con-
structiveness is by no means deficient in this “ radically ple-
beian”’ bird.

The eggs, from six to ten in number, are of a beautifully
clear white, speckled all over with small reddish brown dots.
My esteemed friend, Mr. Hewirson, of oological celebrity,
says that the eggs are sometimes laid on the fine particles of
rotten wood, in the holes of trees, and, though the fact has not
hitherto fallen under my notice, yet I have of course no reason
to doubt the accuracy of the statement. With regard to the
number of eggs, the accounts of authors vary considerably ;
SELBY says from six to eight, Hewitson from seven to eleven,
and, if we are to believe Temmrinck, it lays “‘ de huit jusqu’a
quatorze et méme vingt ceufs.”” But, to say the truth, I feel
little inclination to trust to the authority of TemMiINnckK in
matters appertaining to field researches, and therefore reject
his score of eggs without further comment. I have found
eight to be the usual number, but have known some nests to
contain so few as six, and others as many as ten—exactly half
the worthy Dutchman’s basket full! Had M. TemmMinck
assured us that he had himself seen twenty eggs in the nest
with his own eyes, one might have supposed that the Professor’s
imagination had doubled each egg!—If we take the smallest
number mentioned by Srexpy (six), and the largest recorded by
Hewirson (eleven), we shall be much nearer the maximum and
minimum, than if we set the hapless bird to stock a market with
its ovarian delicacies !

It subsists chiefly on small insects and their larve, which it
is almost incessantly seeking amongst the foliage and branches

THE GARDEN TIT. 161

of trees, in woods and gardens. Whilst engaged in exploring
the branches for their hidden treasures, it is much less quick
and active in its movements than the smaller Tits, but, in these
and many other habits, it closely resembles its congeners.
During the chilly months it adds various kinds of grain, and,
according to SexBy, nuts, to its daily fare. It evinces the same
partiality as the Blue Tit, though in an inferior degree, to suet
and bone-pickings of any kind, and, for these and similar dain-
ties, it frequents the scullery, dog-kennel, and pig-sty, indis-
criminately, though I have known more than one instance of
its paying the forfeit of its life, for its impertinence, by a sudden
spring and gentle gripe from the soft paws of the ever-watchful
Grimalkin. It would, however, be well for the reputation of
the Garden Tit if its thievings ended here. But, like an honest
and impartial biographer, I must report its evil as well as its
good deeds. And what can we say to the well-known fact
(well-known to gardeners, if not to Naturalists), that peas are
one of the best baits for ensnaring the bird? What can we
plead in extenuation of its apivorous propensities? And,
lastly, what shall we say to the murders of smaller and weaker
birds, with which the “ prisoner at the bar’? has occasionally
been charged ?

Why, we will do our best—and “‘ man can but do his best!”
—to make a thorough and impartial investigation of this appa-
rently desperate case. In the first place, then, with regard to
its pea-swallowing capabilities, I am compelled to own that it
occasionally joins the posse of the feathered race amongst the
pea borders, but its depredations in that line are, I am con-
fident, comparatively small and unimportant, nor will it ever
make a meal there, if choicer viands be come-at-able. This, if
true, is good hearing for the market gardener; but now let us
repair to the bee-hives, and, hiding ourselves behind a tree or
other shelter, observe the Garden Tit’s proceedings, for a few
minutes, in another point of view. Scarcely are you fairly
concealed, than the bird, darting down with inconceivable
rapidity, from the branch of a neighbouring tree, makes off

M

162 THE GARDEN TIT.

with a fat bee, from the hive-stand, almost unnoticed by the
other bees ; and this is repeated so many times, that you begin
to think that the whole hive must be shortly depopulated.
But here again I have an excuse for my feathered client. For
I have long been of opinion that those birds which eat bees
select only the drones, and leave the working portion of the
population. And my supposition is supported by the com-
parative laziness of the drones, which of course renders them
more obnoxious to their enemies, than their provident and
industrious brethren. This, however, is only hypothesis, and
may not be true. But, even supposing the insects to be de-
stroyed indiscriminately, I do not think the hive will ever
suffer any serious diminution from this cause—not to be com-
pared to the effects produced by the battles which not unfre-
quently take place between two hives.

Thus we find that the Garden Tit occasionally pilfers a few
peas and bees, but scarcely enough of either to render it a
marked bird to the gardener. The third accusation, that it has
been detected in the act of killing small and weak birds, next
claims attention. Now this, though actually the weightiest
charge of the three, is considered of little consequence by the
ignorant gardener, or probably escapes his notice entirely.
But perhaps this is no proof of his non-observance of Nature ;
for the instances of the Garden Tit’s killing other birds, are
“‘few and far between.” I have never “‘ caught it in the fact,”
but have frequently observed the smallest birds, as the Warblers
and the Goldcrested Kinglet, sporting amongst the branches,
without the slightest demonstrations of alarm, whilst the
Garden Tit has been in the immediate neighbourhood. With
dead birds it soon begins to make free. For the sake of ex-
periment, I have frequently placed young House Sparrows
and Robin Redbreasts (dead of course) on the top of a wall, or
in some such conspicuous station, and, in the course ofa few
hours, have found the poor creatures brained, and often sadly
mangled. Sometimes the cat has made off with my ‘‘ experi-
ment,” but I have many times witnessed the clever manipula-

THE GARDEN TIT. 163

tions of the Garden Tit in this line. In some instances the
operator softens its victim by a fall from the top of a wall, but
more commonly the business is effected so adroitly, that the
operated scarce moves a pace from its original locality.

On one occasion | tied a young Robin Redbreast* by a thread
to the bare branch of atree. The first day it remained un-
molested ; but on repairing to the spot the following morning,
I found two or three Garden Tits darting at the young bird by
turas, from an adjacent branch, and sometimes, as if astonished
at the little progress made (about as little as schoolboys usually
make in “ the classics,” under the tuition of the narrow-minded
pedagogue), all three directed a simultaneous dart at the luck-
less wight, but with equally little effect. After many fruitless
efforts, the disappointed trio departed one after the other,
leaving their victim in much the same plight as they had found
it. I left the Robin Redbreast to swing at his leisure on the
branch, but no more attacks were commenced on it, though I
observed various species of Tit viewing it from time to time
with a wistful eye. On another occasion, I repeated the same
experiment, with this difference, that the dead bird was hung
from the eaves of an out-building, instead of from the branch
of atree. This time I could not find that the bait attracted
any of the feathered race, but I afterwards learnt that the cat
(cunning rogue!) had been seen to make repeated springs at
the bird from the ground, and finding this mode to be ineffectual,
that she had mounted on the roof of the building, and having
drawn up my “‘ experiment”’ by the string, had devoured it in
her usual leisurely manner.

* I beg to inform the reader (though I sincerely hope my pages may escape the
scrutiny of those worthless gentry, the ‘* Publisher’s Readers’’) that these young
birds, which formed the basis of my experiments, died a natural death, and were
not slain, as is but too frequently the case, to establish the truth of some useless
theory.

{ For an exposition of the incompetency of Greek and Latin to form a princi-
pal—I might almost say any—part of a really liberal education, T refer my readers
to Stmpson’s Popular Education, Bubbles from the Brunnens of Nassau, BUL-
WER S England and the English, the Phrenological Journal, Educational Magazine,
and Analyst.

M 2

164 THE GARDEN TIT.

Thus it would appear that the Garden Tit is at all times a
willing feeder on carrion or dead meat of any kind, but I should
imagine the instances of its destroying living creatures to be
extremely rare—much more so than amongst our own species!
Perhaps the cases alluded to by Seusy, were observed in caged
individuals, and, if so, it is scarcely fair to brand the species
with a general charge of this nature, as the habits of domes-
ticated animals are wholly different from those observed in
their natural state, and cannot, therefore, properly be said to
belong to the species. On the whole, this well-formed and
beautiful bird commits very few depredations on our property,
and these few are infinitely recompensed by its insectivorous
services, various kinds of insects and their larve forming by
far the greater proportion of its subsistence, throughout the
year. In confinement, it may be fed with hemp, the seeds of
the sunflower, and corn, with insects, chopped meat, and suet,
as avariety. The shells of seeds it breaks by hammering on
the outside with its short and powerful beak, instead of the
crushing mode employed by the Finch family (Fringillide);
the food is also commonly held in the claw, whilst the beak
reduces it to a state proper for swallowing. It is probable
that nuts undergo the same kind of manipulation, though, from
the size, and general appearance of the bird, one would scarcely
conceive it capable of so arduous a task.—I cannot do better
than conclude this article with the following particulars, kindly
supplied me by a friend and correspondent :—

My pear Sir,—As I am vain enough to fancy that you will
aiways be glad to receive any ornithological gleanings from
me, for your British Songsters, I am induced to trouble* you
(as is the cant expression) with a few recent observations on
our feathered friends. To commence then with the “ Garden
Tit,”’ as you are pleased to designate it. This “ species” has

* A Naturalist is always glad to hear from a Brother Naturalist—at least from
a true Naturalist, whether of the field or closet class, provided he be not a mere
bookworm and compiler. Such communications as those of Dr. LIVERPOOL are
anything but troublesome.—N, W.

THE GARDEN TIT. 165

always been a distinguished favourite with me [Knapp in-
forms us that the Hedge Dunnock is Ais “ prime favourite,”’]
on account of the beauty of its plumage, the elegance
of its shape, and the variety and sprightliness of its habits.
For several years past I have kept a tolerably large posse of
these birds, and have often been much amused by the singular
and apparently strained attitudes into which they frequently
throw themselves.—You doubtless remember Mr. Brytu’s
interesting paper on the British Tits.* My observations accord,
in most particulars, with those of that talented Naturalist. In
one point, however, I differ from him, namely, as regards the
shyness of the Garden Tit in confinement. My birds, now
seven in number, are at present the sole occupants of rather a
small room. Four of them are perfectly habituated to their
condition, but the rest are as yet novices. Now, the pre-
ponderance being on the right side, I can easily sit in a corner
of the room (provided I remain perfectly still), without causing
any serious alarm to my prisoners. The instant I move an
arm or a foot, the triple noviciate dart off to their perches or to
the window, and the more sedate quartett follow, though not
without evident manifestations of astonishment at the pre-
cipitate retreat of their companions. A few months ago I had
six Garden Tits, all perfectly tame, and these would take their
food whilst I was walking about the room. But though I
have, without much difficulty, brought the Garden Tit to this
stage of familiarity, I have never been able to induce it to feed
from the hand, notwithstanding that I have frequently reared
it from the nest, in order to gain this point. The favourite
food of this bird appears to be—anything that falls in its way,
and it is a plentiful but not an expensive feeder.

«‘ With regard to nuts,t I have found them to be as partial
to the chopped kernel of the common nut, walnut (entirely

* I feel great pleasure in referring my readers to the excellent article alluded
to by Dr. L., in the Field Naturalist s Magazine, vol. i. p. 262—9.—N. W.

+ I requested Dr. LiveRPoox to inform me, whether he had ever observed the
Garden Tits in his possession to eat nuts; and, if so, how the cracking of the
shell was effected.—N. W.

166 THE GARDEN TIT.

divested of the skin), and chesnut, as to anything else I have
hitherto laid before them, but if the nuts are offered to them
whole, they never take the trouble of cracking them, and
indeed I should consider the attempt rather a ruinous specu-
lation for their beaks. They seem generally to prefer animal
to vegetable food in confinement, though perhaps not in their
natural state. * * * * * * * * J remain, my dear sir, yours, &c.,
Cuar_es Liverpootu, M. D.”

Lewin has figured a remarkable variety of this bird, with a
crossed bill.

Since penning the above article, I have received the follow-
ing remarks, from that acute and accurate observer, J. D.
SaLMon, Esq., relative to this species :—

“Your arguments (p. 161) in favour of the Garden Tit’s
only destroying the drones, are not very tenable. I profess to
be an apiarian, and I can assure you I have looked with a very
evil eye on his paying my hives a visit. If he only took the
drones, the injury would not be great, but unfortunately his
greatest depredations are committed when the drones are not
in existence, these not making their appearance till the end of
May, and are all extirpated before the close of July. It is
during the winter and early spring months, when the warmth
of the sun is sufficient to arouse the inhabitants to a state of
activity, that he commits the greatest depredations, and at a
time when the commonwealth is least able to spare any of its
numbers. It is, therefore, only my being an ardent admirer of
the feathered race that prevents me from inflicting summary
justice on his head, when I have detected him feasting upon
my favourites. With regard to peas, may not his object be to
extract the lurking maggot (larva) that is within the pod :—
ISS 2”

The above proves incontestibly that the Garden Tit does
not feed entirely on the drones, though it is probable that it
does so in every possible case, At all events, from what I
have observed, I must still consider the damage it commits
amongst the hives to be inconsiderable.—There can be little

THE BLUE TIT. 167

doubt but it would greedily devour any unhappy maggot that
might come in its way, whether in a pea-pod or elsewhere,
but peas at no period form a staple article of its food, though
it has no kind of objection to them occasionally.

Buve Tit, Parus ceruleus, Wit.

Ye swains now hasten to the hazel bank ;

Where, down yon dale, the wildly-winding brook
Falls hoarse from steep to steep. In close array,
Fit for the thickets and the tangling shrub,

Ye virginscome. For you their latest song

The woodlands raise; the clustering nuts for you
The lover finds amid the secret sliade.

TuHomson’s Seasons.—Autumn.

SYNONYMS.—Parus ceeruleus, WILL. Orn.— Linn. Syst.— LATH. Ind. Orn.—

SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Blue Tit, Mupiz’s Feath. Tribes.—Analyst, No. 13.

LiKe the species with which we have just parted company,
this beautiful little Tit is plentifully and equally distributed
over his Britannic Majesty’s dominions, and, though surpassed
by none of his Majesty’s other feathered subjects in loveliness
of form and plumage, is but little admired by his said Majesty’s
most loving subjects of the human race, save perhaps by a
small circle of field Naturalists. On the contrary, it is branded,
by the ignorant and presumptuous, as one of our greatest
pests; whereas, were our sagacious gardeners, and their yet
more sagacious employers, to take the trouble of investigating
the truth of the complaints preferred against it, they would, if
not wholly destitute of the organ of Benevolence, feel no small
remorse at the merciless persecution with which they have
been pleased to visit this innocent and lovely little creature.
We shall presently proceed to investigate its claims to our
protection, and will now follow it into its native haunts.

It resembles its congeners in being, throughout the year,
more or less a bird of the grove; but, with the exception of

168 THE BLUE TIT.

the Garden Tit, the vicinity of houses, stable-yards, farms,
gardens, &c., are more congenial to it than to its other bre-
thren. Its food, consequently, exhibits a corresponding devia-
tion, though insects form the principal means of subsistence
with the whole genus. In winter, and especially in severe
and long-protracted winters, it frequently joins the flocks of
Coal and Marsh Tits; but, during the greater part of the sea-
son, the species remains distinct, assembling in small packs in
autumn, and breaking up their flocks on the approach of spring,
each individual selecting a mate, and the happy pair repairing
to some snug spot, convenient for the rearing of their encum-
brance, and there sojourning till the falling of the leaves again
reminds them that ‘‘ Christmas is coming.”

With regard to song, the Blue Tit, like the rest of its un-
musical relatives, enjoys a perfect sinecure,* though it possesses
an almost inexhaustible variety of single notes or chirps. These
I make no attempt to record, for reasons given in the articles
“* Robin Redbreast,”’ “ Brake Nightingale,’”’ and other places.
My friend Mr. Buiytu, in a paper already alluded to, ‘On
the British Tits,” in the first volume of the Field Naturalist’s
Magazine,} has endeavoured to convey some idea of a few of
the principal notes of these amusing birds, but it is my candid
opinion (and I trust my intelligent friend will excuse my say-
ing so) that he has failed. I challenge any one, be his organ
of Tune large or small, to identify the notes on hearing them,
from any written description, not excepting even the ‘‘ pink ”’
or “fink”? of the Chaff Finch; a word which (with all due
deference to our Ornithologists, who one and all maintain that
its note resembles the word pink) I can confidently assert that
the Chaff Finch, in its natural state, neither does nor can pro-
nounce. But to return to the subject of our present memoir.

* This again is amistake; I have since heard its song, which is harsh and little
varied, but by no means so monotonous as that of the Garden Tit.

t+ This magazine, which was edited by Professor RENNIE, is now defunct,
having perished with its sixteenth Number. It had much better have been termed
the Book Naturalist’s Magazine, the papers of Mr. BLyTu being the only com-
munications of any value cr originality, in the whole series.

THE BLUE TIT. 169

- Its common note is a short single chirp, but in the breeding
season, and occasionally at other times, it utters a very pecu-
liar, though not unpleasant, chatter, greatly resembling the
chatter (but not the song) of the Sedge Reedling, for which it
may easily be mistaken by an inattentive observer.* When a
Hawk (Accipiter), or Falcon (Falco) appear overhead, the
whole flock—if in winter—suddenly disperse, sweeping along
the ground, and emitting a shrill kind of scream, which appears
to be their alarm note. In summer, however, it has less to fear
from the Falcon family (Falconide) than most small birds, the
dense shades which it frequents, and seldom quits for any
considerable length of time, being in general a sufficient de-
fence from those reckless tyrants of the air. But in winter,
when the trees are bare, and covert is scarce, I have frequently
witnessed, with regret, the successful pounces of these Fal-
conine murderers, amongst a troop of Blue Tits, and that too
in the near neighbourhood of houses, where, had a gun been
at hand, nothing would have been easier, and I may here add
pleasanter, than to have brained the too successful foe of all
small birds. But the little Blue Tit will not always thus
tamely submit to be butchered, and I remember on more occa-
sions than one, to have observed it soaring above its enemy,
and darting down on its now confused persecutor in perfect
security, until poor Falco, unable to resist or prevent the at-
tacks of its puny assailant, thinks itself well off if it can escape
from so unwearied a pursuer. This mode of attack is very
commonly resorted to by the Swallows (Hirundo), and by
some other high-spirited birds.

The Blue Tit does not affect extensive forests and lonely
isolated spots, but appears particularly partial to the imme-
diate neighbourhood and dwellings of man, inhabiting the
borders of groves and cultivated localities. In Britain, where-
ever there are houses or farms, there our lively and elegant
little companion, the Blue Tit, is sure to be also, and that, too,

* In spring it has also a musical ringing cry, very similar to that of the Long-
tailed Tit.—E. BLYTH,

170 THE BLUE TIT.

in great abundance, notwithstanding the strenuous efforts of
ignorance, seconded by cruelty, which have for centuries been
directed, without the slightest cause, to the destruction of one
of the loveliest of the feathered race, and one of the most use-
ful. Its movements are inconceivably rapid and elegant, and,
except when nipt by a severe frost, it is in constant motion,
continually seeking its minute insect prey on the bark and
branches of trees, in the manner of the Warblers and the Gold-
crested Kinglet, often clinging to the sprays with the head
downwards. It holds with the greatest ease on the smooth
trunks of trees, and also on walls and window-frames, where
it frequently seeks its insect food.

The nest is ‘composed of moss exteriorly, sometimes inter-
mixed with wool and similar substances, lined with a warm
coating of feathers and horsehair. It is usually built in the
holes of old trees and walls, or in the hinge of crazy or unused
doors; and, not uncommonly, under the eaves of houses, and
cow-sheds. As is the case with the Garden Tit, authors differ
considerably with regard to the number of eggs laid by the
Blue Tit; some mentioning eighteen or twenty, and others (as
Setsy) from six to eight. Now I never remember to have
found so many as eighteen eggs in a single nest, nor so few as
six, when the number was completed, though I have seen de-
serted nests containing three, four, or five eggs. The usual
number appears to be from eight to twelve, and, I believe,
never more. During the last season (1835) I have met with
three nests containing eleven eggs, one with ten fully fledged
young (all of which were caged), and an addled egg; and an-
other with as many as twelve eggs. Dozens of others that fell
under my inspection at various times, had respectively from
eight to eleven eggs, and hence I conclude this to be the ave-
rage number. That there may often be fewer than eight, I do
not dispute, but I am certain that twelve is the maximum
limit—or, at all events, that if instances are known of more
having been found, these must be considered rather as excep-
tions than the rule.

THE BLUE TIT. 171

On referring to Hewirson’s beautiful and accurate British
Oology, I find that one of that author’s correspondents (T. C.
Heysuam, Esq., of Carlisle) mentions the number of eggs laid
by the Blue Tit as being from seven to eighteen. Mr. Hewrr-
SON observes :—‘‘ I have alw::ys been accustomed to receive
with jealousy and caution any of those reports in which most
bird-nesters seem so much to delight, regarding the great
number of eggs laid by some of our smaller birds, never having
myself met with a nest containing more than eight or nine
eggs: it is, however, a curious fact, that the Blue Tit will lay
twice that number, as in the instance given by Mr. Hrysuam.
I have one, from authority upon which I can place dependence,
in which the nest contained eighteen eggs.’”? Here we have
indubitable authority for its occasionally laying considerably
more than twelve eggs, but, from the extreme rarity of such an
occurrence, we must, as before, consider them in the light of
extraordinary exceptions. And I may here remark, that we
cannot be too careful in condemning, as improbable or absurd,
any facts related by modern authors of repute, or even by the
older writers ; for those circumstances, though they may be of
rare occurrence, and though they may not have been proved to
us by ‘* ocular demonstration,”
Way, as in the above instance of the Blue Tit’s eggs.

Besides the localities already mentioned, the nest may be
met with in old stables and cow-houses, in the mangers, inside
decaying out-buildings, under the tiles and slates of roofs, and
also, but rarely, in the moss-grown walls of old castles. Ina
snug corner of Tutbury Castle, covered thickly over with moss,
ivy, and other luxuriant herbage, a pair of these birds build
every year, exactly in the same spot; and I have twice found
the nest in the deer-house in Sudbury Park, a locality well
suited to these birds, and much frequented by them. In dis-
tricts where old trees, orchards, and walled gardens abound,
they occur much more plentifully elsewhere, and consequently,
though everywhere of common occurrence, the neighbourhoods
of Boilston, Foston, and Scropton are more congenial to it than

may yet happen once in a

172 THE BLUE TIT.

Sapperton and Broughton, where, however, it is far from being
rare.

During the spring and summer months, groves and copses
are its favourite haunts, and there, indeed, it may be met with
throughout the year. But the rigours of a severe winter usu-
ally drive the main mass of them to the more immediate neigh-
bourhood of houses and farms, in order to obtain, with greater
facility, the necessaries and comforts of life. And hence the
popular notion that they are commoner in winter than in
. summer. The field Ornithologist is never at a loss where to
find them, and he well knows that they only approach our
dwellings, during the inclement seasons, with the view of sub-
sisting on the refuse of our plenty. Anda very little suffices
for it,—a few crumbs of bread (which it shares along with
numerous other small birds), a bone, hemp or sun-flower seed,
corn, bits of suet, and many other things, which it is unneces-
sary to mention. If it fail in its endeavours to attract the
attention of the inmates of the parlour, it frequently taps at the
window, in the manner of the Robin Redbreast, though it has
not, like that bird, any desire to approach the household gods,
or even to pass the threshold, food being evidently its chief
desideratum. Of cold it is little susceptible, except in extra-
ordinarily severe seasons, and, whilst the Robin Redbreast and
Goldcrested Kinglet are starving in the immediate neighbour-
hood of our dwellings, the blithe little Blue Tit is frisking
about, in high glee and spirits, in the wood, the garden, or the
stable-yard, just as it may happen to suit its inclination.
When it approaches the house in quest of food, you cannot
perceive in it that appearance of misery and chilliness so com-
mon in the Robin Redbreast, and also, though in a less degree,
in the Hedge Dunnock, and other thin-billed birds. In hardi-
ness it far exceeds even the Ivy Wren, and I never remember,
in a single instance, to have found it dead, even during the
most intense cold ; whilst even ordinary winters usually destroy
considerable numbers of the few members of the Warbler family
that brave the rigours of our northern winters.

THE BLUE TIT. lj

During the greater part of the year, it subsists almost
entirely on insect food, which it seeks, with unwearied assi-
duity, on the branches and sprays, or amongst the foliage of
trees and shrubs. Fruit, peas, bees, &c., remain untouched
by the Blue Tit, though it has been accused of destroying the
buds of various trees when they first make their appearance in
spring. But, though I have repeatedly ‘‘ caught it in the act’’
of demolishing the buds of trees, and have likewise seen these
lying about under the trees, yet I have never found that the
circumstance was productive of the slightest injury, either to
the fruit or foliage. On the contrary, I am of opinion, that we
have every reason to be grateful to our diligent and indefa-
tigable labourer, for its invaluable services; as I have little
doubt but that the buds selected invariably contain some
minute insect pest, which, if allowed to remain, would un-
doubtedly work the complete destruction of the crop. And
this is no opinion echoed and re-echoed from author to author,
but minute and patient observation in the field of Nature, tend
greatly to corroborate my supposition. For I have invariably
remarked that no part of the bud is devoured by the bird, but
that these, being allowed to drop through, on each side of the
mandible, may be seen scattered on the ground, underneath the
bush or tree on which the calumniated birds have been ope-
rating. Ifyou watch it whilst in the act of cracking its buds,
you will find that the whole of the vegetable part is rejected,
and we have thus more than presumptive evidence of the
truth of my supposition. And, moreover, if it be for the
sake of feeding on the buds themselves, why are not all the
buds destroyed indiscriminately. This would undoubtedly be
the case, were the vegetable portion of the bud the desired
object, but I have observed—and that too frequently to admit
of a doubt of its accuracy—that some trees are passed over
without being deprived of any of its produce, while others are
destined to lose only afew buds, and others again are not
quitted until the whole crop be demolished. Surely there must
be some cause for such a selection! and may we not presume

174 THE BLUE TIT.

that the insects or larve, lurking within, are the probable
guides in this selection? We have every reason to believe that
it is, and I have as yet heard no successful, or even plausible,
arguments on the opposite side of the question.

It is difficult to imagine, with Muniz, that this destruction
of buds may be useful as serving to prune the trees, as it were.
For the trees, singled out as the scene of the Blue Tit’s opera-
tions, are not always the most profusely covered with buds.
I have known it attack trees which possessed but a very
scanty crop of buds, and these are often wholly denuded, all
the buds being doubtless infested with insects.

But I think enough has been said, to give all but proof
positive that its bud-eating, or rather bud-cleansing, labours,
are wholly beneficial to us. And, if the facts‘and arguments
above adduced be correct—which it is possible they are not—
what then can we say of the merciless and shameless perse-
cution of these lovely, interesting, and, at the least, harmless,
little creatures? In many parishes ignorance stil! so far
prevails over Causality and Benevolence, as to allow a price
to be fixed on the head of the Bue Tit; and accordingly,
dozens fall every day, an equal prey to cruelty and avarice.
When will man open his eyes to his own interests? If our
country Squires would pay half as much attention to the
operations of Nature, as they do to their often futile (because
blinded by ignorance and prejudice) attempts to acquire riches,
these latter would come of themselves. At present, almost the
only wild animal with which our country gentlemen are ac-
quainted, is the fox, and that only with the view of hunting and
persecuting it! I am not, however, one of those who consider
hunting a “‘ barbarous sport,”’—at: least with regard to cruelty,
in which sense the word “ barbarous” is usually employed
when applied to hunting; though it is undoubtedly a vestige
of barbarity, and a sign of the low state of the mental culture
of our nobility and gentry at the present day.

According to Sexsy, the Blue Tit attacks and destroys other
small birds, but I should be inclined to consider this of rare

THE BLUE TIT. 175

occurrence, though it may doubtless happen occasionally. In
confinement, I believe it often treats its companions somewhat
harshly, but, in their natural state, they live at perfect peace
amongst themselves. The only means of observing the habits
of this species successfully in summer, is by patient watching
in the woods, where they mostly seek their food at the tops of
thick trees, and are, accordingly, seen with difficulty. In
winter, however, they are easily observed; for not only are
the trees denuded of foliage at that period, but the birds con-
stantly court our notice, hopping about before the house, and
close to the windows. Their mode of feeding, as well as
various other amusing habits, are best observed by fastening a
piece of suet or a bone, or a dish of almost any kind of seed,
close to the window, in a conspicuous spot. It commonly
holds its food with its claws, and seeds it breaks in the same
manner as the Garden Tit.

I had previously omitted to remark, that when any one
approaches the nest of this bird, it ruffles up its feathers, emits
a snake-like hissing, and even bites the hand that offers to lay
hold of it, and that with such severity as to cause the intruder
to withdraw his hand hastily. The same circumstance is
observable in the Garden Tit, but neither of these birds venture
to remain on their nest, if approached, when the nest is in an
open, ill-concealed locality, as the hinge of a door, &c.; and
I have not observed the hissing noise to be uttered at all until
incubation has commenced. After the young are hatched, the
pareats become extremely clamorous, constantly making a
chattering note, and, though the situation of the nest is fre-
quently discovered by this circumstance, yet, in other in-
stances, I have in vain searched for the spot where I was
certain there must be a nest. A large progeny, of from eight
to twelve individuals, keeps the parents in constant employ
during the breeding season. The Garden and Blue Tits roost
in holes of walls or trees, or often in an ivy-clad wall, where
they are easily caught at night.

176 THE MARSH TIT.

Marsu Tir, Parus palustris, Gesn.

It is the season when the green delight

Of leafy luxury begins to fade ;
When leaves are changing daily to the sight,
Wet seem lovelier from each deepening shade,
Or tint, by autumn’s touch upon them laid;

It is the season when each streamlet’s sound,
Flowing through lonely vale, or woody glade,

Assumes a tone more pensive, more profound ;
And yet that hoarser voice spreads melody around.

BERNARD BARTON.

SyvNonyMS.—Parus palustris, WitLu. Orn.—LInn. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.
—SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Marsh Tit, Mupie’s Feath. Tribes.—Analyst, Nos. 13,
i4.

Tue Marsh Tit, according to SeLpy, “ is not so abundant
as the preceeding one,” but “is very generally dispersed
throughout the kingdom.” Now, the remarks of my ornitho-
logical correspondents, in various parts of the country, and my
own observation, induce me exactly to reverse this statement.
I should say, then, that the Marsh Tit is not so equally, and
perhaps not so widely, distributed over the British islands as
the Blue species; but that in those places where it does occur,
it is at least as plentiful as the other, and in many districts
even more so. It is, however, so exclusively a bird of the
grove, that it passes for being a much rarer species than it
really is, and is probably wholly unnoticed and unknown by
the majority of persons residing in the country, or, if seen,
doubtless passes fora House Sparrow! The latter bird is in
fact, a most convenient cloak for ignorance, and, accordingly,
all birds of a certain size and colour, are resolvable into the
House Sparrow. Eut the Marsh Tit is nowhere rare, in Bri-
tain, and is, in most places, as commonly met with as any
others of the genus, by the Ornithologist. In Derbyshire it is
particularly abundant, though there can be little doubt but that

THE MARSH TIT. LF

it is more so in some of the wooded districts of thesouth. Dr.
LiverPoo. informs me that in the northern counties, and
especially in Durham, he has met with it in great abundance,
though SELBy mentions it as somewhat rare, judging probably
from his own immediate neighbourhood. Like the rest of the
genus, it resides with us throughout the year, and appears to
vary its abode but little with the changes of season and climate.
Its note is the usual short chirp of the Tits, and it has no song,
or at least nothing worthy of the name, though it occasionally
attempts a chiffy-chaffy sort of ditty: and this is sometimes
heard in winter—especially if the weather be mild—as well as
in the breeding season. The Marsh Tit frequents woods and
thickets along with its congeners, with which it frequently
congregates, during the winter months. But, similar as are
the general haunts and habits of all the British Tits, yet much
diversity is observed, by the acute Ornithologist, in the mi-
nutie of their manners; and this is the case with regard to the
Marsh and Coal Tits, which resemble each other so closely, in
outward appearance, as to be commonly confounded, by the
vulgar, as one and the same bird—if indeed they are noticed at
all. The Marsh Tit usually occurs in woods and thickets,
but its favourite haunts are swampy grounds, abounding with
osier beds and aquatic herbage: though it is not so thoroughly
a bird of the marsh as the Reedlings, and may often be met
with in the higher grounds, near houses, farms, &c., along
with the Blue, Coal, and Longtailed Tits. In company with
these, in fact, a great part of the winter is passed, though, in
mild and open weather, the species separate, and the Marsh
Tit betakes itself to the margins of streams, swampy woods,
rushy marshes, and osier beds. As long as the running
streams are frozen, it uniformly forsakes these, and repairs to
the high grounds, but no sooner does the frost begin to relent,
than it immediately returns to its pre-eminently favourite
haunts.

The nest is built, like that of the Blue Tit, in holes of old
trees, in marshy situations, and very frequently in ancient

N

178 THE MARSH TIT.

willow trees, quite close to the edge of a running stream or
river. SreLspy mentions that it ercavates a hole for the recep-
tion of its nest, but I have never found this to be the case with
any of the genus. It almost invariably cuts away portions of
the rotten wood inside the hole, in order to suit it to its taste,
but I have not met with a single instance of its making the
hole itself. In fact, these have always the appearance of
having been scooped out by time, and I can scarcely imagine
that the little Marsh Tit could effect so great a labour with its
own bill; nor do I conceive that any of the genus have strength
sufficient for the task. It is more than possible, however, that
I may be mistaken. Though by far the most usual site of the
nest is in an old tree, that is not its invariable locality. Twice
have I found it near the ground, on a willow stump, and two
or three instances of its building on the stump of an oak or
elm tree, have come to my notice. The spot was well con-
cealed by moss and various luxuriant aquatic herbage and
brushwood. But I should be inclined to consider these in the
light of rare occurrences, eccentricities as it were, and scarcely
as forming an essential part of its biography, though it is both
useful and interesting to be acquainted with every fact relating
to itseconomy. Indeed the description of such facts as may
be deemed extraordinary, form the chief interest and utility of
such works as the Magazine of Natural History. And I may
here be allowed to observe, that every field Naturalist must
witness with unfeigned regret the lamentable decrease, both in
quantity and quality, of the “‘ Short Communications” in that
magazine. The work, I believe, barely pays the expenses of
paper, print, &c., and no wonder, seeing how grievously Mr.
Loupon disappoints his subscribers with regard to the quality
of the matter inserted. Many of the most able contributors to
the work appear to have withdrawn their services, and, in
some numbers, there is not a syllable about birds. The Editor
should at least give a fair hearing to every department of
Natural History, and surely out of the superabundance of
matter he must have collected, excellence in the quality of the

THE MARSH TIT. 179

material might easily be ensured. We would recommend Mr.
Loupon, for his own sake, to attend to these circumstances,
especially as it is in contemplation, in various parts of the
kingdom, to start other periodicals of a similar nature. But
to return to the subject of the present memoir.

The nest of the Marsh Tit generally consists of moss and
the soft seed-down of the willow intermixed, and lined with
the latter material, and occasionally a few horsehairs. I be-
lieve SExsy is right in stating that the nest is mostly lined
with the down of the willow, or at least my observations tend
to confirm his remark ; but I have seen two nests in which the
lining consisted of willow down. Both of the latter were late
nests. The eggs, from six to nine in number, are white, with
reddish brown spots, most thickly set at the larger end; the
small end is entirely destitute of them. They are little subject
to variety, and, though extremely similar to those of the Coal
Tit, the practised eye can at once distinguish them.

The usual food of the Marsh Tit is insects of various kinds,
and larve, which it mostly seeks in low marshy grounds,
amongst willows, and on the borders of sedgy streams, where
it frequently meets—but never associates with—the Sedge
Reedling. When the ponds and running streams in the neigh-
bourhood are frozen, it often finds a difficulty in obtaining
water, and may be seen hovering about the edges of the lake,
along with the Blue Tit, Coal Tit, Robin Redbreast, Ivy Wren,
and others.* It is, indeed, difficult to imagine where they can
obtain a supply of water, during a long continuance of frost.
Snow would probably be as prejudicial to them as it is to our-
selves in a similar predicament, and this scarcity of water, in
long and severe winters, is doubtless one of the many causes
of the mortality amongst the feathered race, in such seasons.
I have more than once found the Marsh Tit dead in the hollows
of trees. These were not discovered till the commencement of

* J have seen the large species hammering away at the ice, in the endeayour,
I suppose, of quenching its thirst with it.—E. BLyru.

Ni 2

180 THE MARSH TIT.

spring, but I have no doubt but they had been killed by a
severe frost in winter. And this supposition is strengthened
by the fact that these individuals were hard, and perfectly free
from putrescence—a circumstance which, I believe, always
holds good with regard to frost-bitten birds.

In winter, however, and especially in inclement winters,
when insect food becomes less abundant, and less easy to pro-
cure, the Marsh Tit is content to subsist on bone-pickings, bits
of fat, and other refuse, and becomes almost as omnivorous as -
the Blue Tit. I have also observed it to devour corn, hemp,
and sunflower seeds, which had been scattered for other birds.
Nearly all the Tits are seed-eaters—as their powerful bills suf-
ficiently indicate—but the present species invariably prefers
animal food of any kind, to grain and vegetable substances,
when the former is to be had. But the Tits are seldom at a
loss for sustenance, on account of their ability to suit them-
selves to the various kinds of food which are procurable at dif-
ferent times of the year. I believe the Marsh Tit does not
stand accused of killing and braining small and weak birds.

By the kindness of my ornithological friends and corres-
pondents, I am enabled to present my readers with the follow-
ing interesting particulars, relative to the Marsh Tit, which
will, I am convinced, be perused with pleasure, by the lovers of
Nature. My Chester correspondent, J. D. Wzston, Esq.,
Surgeon of that town, thus writes to me:—

“The Marsh Tit is as abundant with us as you say that it is
in Derbyshire, although the immediate neighbourhood of Ches-
' ter does not much abound with its well-known favourite
haunts. But, within a few miles of the town, the swampy
woods, and reed-grown marshes literally swarm with them in
winter. In summer also they are tolerably plentiful, but much
less so than during the inclement seasons,* and I have often

* I think my intelligent correspondent is mistaken with regard to this fact (and
I trust he will excuse my saying so); all the Tits are less easily observed in sum-
mer than in winter, and hence the prevailing opinion that they are then less
abundant. Their summer haunts are thick woods, copses, and trees, in the
neighbourhood of marshy grounds.—N. W.

THE MARSH TIT. 181

wondered where they can betake themselves in spring, for the
nest is not often met with in these parts, though I have found
it, amongst willows and in old trees. You ask if I have ever
observed any of the Tits scoop holes for their nests in trees ;
I cannot say that I have, and doubt not but you are prefectly
right in supposing that they merely separate particles of rotten
wood from holes already made.”

With regard to the latter question, Dr. Liverpoot has com-
municated to me as follows :—

“J think that what authors (and especially SreztBy) say,
with regard to the excavating powers of the Tits, may be par-
tially and occasionally true, though my experience leads me to
believe that it is not commonly so. Old and decayed trees
abound in many parts of this county (Gloucester), and there
are many trees in which the Garden Tit, or even the Blue,
Marsh and Coal Tits, might bore a hole without very great
difficulty ; but you may easily imagine that holes ready made
are preferred, and in such, accordingly, I have usually known
them to build. If yourefer to Muptx’s Feathered Tribes (vol. i.
p- 351), you will find that he says :—‘ if the tree be ina state
of decay, so that it can be chiselled by the stroke of their bills,
they trim, and probably sometimes wholly excavate, nesting
places for themselves.’ This quotation relates to the Garden
Tit, and might be said of the others also. But entire excava-
tion is not a common occurrence.’”’—Like the other Tits, it
generally, but not always, roosts in trees at night; in this
neighbourhood, I think it as frequently roosts on the branches
of trees, as inside hollow ones.

The following observations on the Marsh Tit have lately
been communicated to me, by my Norfoik correspondent,
J. D. Satmon, Esq. :—

“‘T am perfectly satisfied that the Marsh Tit does occa-
sionally excavate a situation for its nest, having in several
instances found it in a decayed willow tree, which, from the
fresh appearance of the cavity, must have been done by the
bird. In all the cases that have come under my observation,

182 THE COAL TIT.

the wood has been in that stage denominated fouchwood. I
have never found the nest of this species on the ground, but
always at an elevation of a few feet, and in a decayed tree.
I cannot help suspecting that the nest of the Marsh and Coal
Tits are often mistaken for each other. The eggs are very dis-
tinct, those of the latter being much smaller, and the markings
more minute than those of the former.”

That the nests and eggs of these two species are frequently
confounded by compilers, I have no doubt; but I should
scarcely think that any genuine field Ornithologist could mis-
take them. Mr. Satmon must, however, bear in mind, that
situation alone will not always determine to what species the
nest belongs ; that of the one being sometimes found in the
usual locality of the other, and vice versd.

Coat Tit, Parus ater, GESN.

Hoarser gales are round us blowing,
Clouds obscure the sky,
Day’s brief span is shorter growing,
Darker nights draw nigh ;
Morn and eve are chill and dreary,
Songs have lost their mirth,
Whisp’ring leaves—of converse weary,
Silent sink to earth.
BERNARD BARTON.

SynonyMs.—Parus ater, WILL. Or7.—LINN. Syst.—LATH. Gen. Hist.—SELBY’S
Br. Orn.—Cole Tit, MupIr’s Feath. Tribes.—Coal Tit, Analyst, No. 13, 14.
Tue Coal* Tit is said not to be so plentiful in England as
the Blue and Marsh Tits; but in Derbyshire | think it is at
least as common. The resemblance between this and the pre-
ceding species is so close, as to have induced some Ornitholo-
gists to suppose them to be synonymous. To those accus-
tomed to observe them in their native haunts, however, the
difference, both of general appearance, habits, notes, and

* This word is often improperly written Cole.

THE COAL TIT. 183

nidification, is sufficiently obvious. While the Marsh Tit is
engaged in exploring the low, swampy, reedy grounds, the
present species remains in the dry upland districts, exhibiting,
at the same time, that partiality to thick woods and copses,
which is observable throughout the genus. In these upland
districts, almost any thick grove will suit it, but I have ever
observed the oak to be its favourite tree. Either in plantations
of young oaks, or among isolated trees of a Jarger growth, it is
almost sure to be met with, and also, but not so commonly,
in pine and fir woods.

Thus, though an intimate resemblance exists between the
general haunts of all the Tits, an evident difference may be
perceived between them. The Blue Tit commonly frequents
woods in the immediate neighbourhood of houses; the Marsh
Tit willow beds and trees in marshy localities; the present
species thick and little frequented groves and forests ; and the
Longtailed Tit associates with man less than any of its con-
geners, occurring chiefly in the midst of large forests, or in
places where the holly is abundant, though it sometimes does
approach gardens and houses along with its congeners. The
Garden Tit appears to partake of the haunts of all the rest,
and I cannot say in what kind of locality I have found it most
abundant. Mr. Buiytu says, trees rising out of a hedge-row,
where certainly they are frequently observed, but perhaps as
commonly elsewhere. But to return to the species under con-
sideration.

The Coal Tit is not more musical than the rest of its bre-
thren, though, like the preceding species, it possesses a kind of
chatter, sometimes dignified with the name of song.* All the
Tits can get up a few notes by way of song, when they please,
but their musical abilities are scarcely worthy of notice, as
regards intrinsic melody, however interesting they may be in

* This is first heard early in February, and is uttered with little interruption,
throughout the day and the season, whilst the bird is engaged in fluttering
amongst the sprays, and seeking its minute insect prey. In summer it is far from
easy to get aclear view of the bird, except with the assistance of a small pocket
telescope.

184 THE COAL TIT.

an ornithological point of view. The Marsh Tit occasionally
utters the pink pink of the Chaff Finch, but not so frequently
as the Garden Tit. It has also the chattering note peculiar to
the genus, and likewise the short ‘lit-like chirp. These and
the alarm note, uttered at the appearance of a Hawk (Accipiter),
Jay (Garrulus), Pie (Pica), and some other enemies, comprise
the whole of the vocal powers of the Marsh Tit.

The nest is situated in the hole of a decayed tree, and some-
times, though not commonly, in an ivy-clad wall. It consists
of moss and wool intermixed, and is lined with horsehair, and
often with a few feathers. A very deep hole is usually se-
lected, and when the female is near hatching, she will hiss and
bite in the same manner as the Blue, Marsh, and Garden Tits ;
but, on the whole, it is considerably shyer and more wary.
Like these, also, it often removes particles of decayed wood
inside the cavity in which it purposes to build, but never ex-
cavates a hole, as some of the Tits have been said to do.
Though, as before stated, it occasionally nidificates in the holes
of ivy-clad walls, yet, for the most part, it retires into the
deepest recesses of woods and forests, for the purposes of in-
cubation. The eggs, from six so eight in number, are white,
spetted at the larger end with reddish brown. They closely
resemble those of the Marsh Tit, but are easily distinguished
by the practised eye of the Ornithologist.

The Marsh Tit subsists on various kinds of insect food, and
may at all times of the year be seen seeking, with indefati-
gable assiduity, its minute insect prey on the bark and sprays
of trees, where nothing living is visible to our coarser vision.
It is in constant motion, and though, like all the Tits, it often
hangs with the head downwards, yet this position is not so
frequently observed as in the Blue Tit. Its monotonous and
oft-repeated note, che-chee, che-chee, che-chee, may be heard at
a considerable distance, and then frequently sounds as if quite
close, and the next moment again appears to proceed from a
totally different direction, so that it is often difficult to discover
their hunting ground. Like the other Tits, they generally

THE COAL TIT. 185

remain a long time in one spot, and then suddenly dart off in
a troop by common consent, as if they had exhausted it of their
favourite food. In severe weather, likewise, they may be seen
to frequent dog kennels and similar places, in quest of bone-
pickings, bits of fat, and other carrion. But insect food, when
it is to be had, is always preferred, and the above mentioned
refuse is only resorted to intimes of need. Ihave never known
it kill small and weakly birds, as mentioned by some authors.

My Cambridge correspondent, Henry Bartow, Esq., has
communicated to me the following particulars, relative to this
species :—

“In Derbyshire, you mention the five British Tits* as being
all equally abundant in their several localities. The case is
very different in my neighbourhood. The Blue Tit is here by
far the most plentiful species. The Garden Tit is also suf-
ficiently common, but the Marsh and Coal Tits much less so ;
the latter, especially, being of comparatively rare occurrence,
and even when it is met with, is so shy as to preclude the
possibility of observing their habits to advantage. In an
excursion that I lately made in several parts of Lincolnshire,
I did not find the Coal Tit of more frequent occurrence than
near Cambridge; but the Marsh Tit,f as you probably well
know, abounds in the fenny districts of Lincolnshire. I
have frequently endeavoured to shoot this species, but never
could succeed, though I at present possess two stuffed spe-
cimens, which were sent to me in the winter of 1831. These
came into my hands alive, having been taken in a trap baited
with a bit of suet—a successful mode, I believe, of catching
all the Tits. The Garden and Blue Tits may easily be captured
by the common slate trap used by gardeners for catching mice.”

I have often employed the latter method, mentioned by Mr.
BaRLow, with success; but the Tits may easily be caught in

* The Garden Tit, Blue Tit, Marsh Tit, Coal Tit, and Longtailed Tit. The
Crested Tit is rarely observed in the British islands.x—N. W.

{ The fens of Lincolnshire are well-suited to the Marsh Tit, especially where
they are interspersed with woods.—N. W.

186 THE COAL TIT.

almost any kind of trap, baited with various kinds of animal
and vegetable matters.

“I have often,’ says another correspondent, ‘‘ found the
nest of this bird in the holes of water-rats, by the sides of
streams and ponds, and also occasionally in the holes of
walls covered over with ivy.* These appear to me such re-
markable deviations from the usual locality of the nest of
the Coal Tit, that I cannot but think they may be of some
value to your forthcoming work. For the rest, I know little
that is worthy of your consideration, with regard to this
bird, except its partiality to suet and raw meat. After hav-
ing been fed on hemp and other seeds for a considerable time,
in confinement, it greedily devours almost any kind of ani-
mal food that may be offered to it, though, in its natural state,
carrion appears to be much less eagerly sought after, by this
species, than by the Blue Tit.—N. D.”

The female resembles the male, and the young of the year do
not differ materially from the adults.

The following passage occurs in a letter from J. D. Satmon,
Esq., of Thetford, Norfolk, dated Feb. 6, 1836 :—

“« My experience does not exactly correspond with your re-
marks (p. 184) regarding the nidification of the Coal Tit. Al-
though the bird is not very plentiful in this district, I last year
had the pleasure of inspecting three nests belonging to this
species, one of which was placed in a hole in a sloping bank,
in a plantation, apparently occasioned by a mole (Talpa
Europea) leaving its subterranean retreat. It was situated
about two feet from the entrance, the exterior composed of
moss, and the interior lined with a profusion of rabbit’s
down; it contained only four eggs when I took it. I had
previously watched the old birds building it. The second
was in a chalk-pit, and placed in a hole in the interior of
the chalk ; it was composed of precisely the same materials,

* T suspect that the nests mentioned as situated in rat holes, must have be-
longed to the Marsh Tit, as the Coal Tit never builds so close to the water as

mentioned by my correspondent. I have seen the nest of the Coal Tit in ivy-
clad walls and trees.—N. W.

THE LONGTAILED TIT. 187

and contained six eggs. The third was situated in a decayed
fir tree. The lining of this was the down of rabbits, but like-
wise a large quantity of matted hair.”

Mr. Satmon has kindly forwarded me the first of the nests
above described. It is chiefly remarkable for the abundance of
rabbit’s down with which it is lined, and it is interspersed with
the seeds of various plants. 1 saw a specimen somewhat
similar some time since, in Lord VERNon’s park at Sudbury,
at the entrance of a rat-hole; but its most usual locality
appears to be the holes of decayed trees, where it is sometimes,
though not very frequently, lined with a few feathers. In the
above instance it was lined with black down, Sudbury-park
being stocked with a curious breed of black rabbits.

LonetaiILepD Tit, Parus caudatus, WI.

Oft let me wander o’er the russet mead,

And thro’ the saddened grove, where scarce is heard

One dying strain to cheer the woodman’s toil.

Haply some widowed songster pours his plaint,

Far, in faint warblings, thro’ the tawny copse.

While congregated Thrushes, Linnets, Larks,

And each wild throat, whose artless strains so late

Swell’d all the music of the swarming shades,

Robb’d of their tuneful souls, now shivering sit

On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock,
TuHomson’s Seasons.—Autumn.

SYNONYMS.—Parus caudatus, WILL. Orn.—LINnN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—
SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Longtailed Tit, Mup1E's Feath. Tribes.

Tuis beautiful and somewhat remarkable looking bird, is
equally widely and abundantly distributed throughout the
British islands with the four preceding species, but appears to
be but little noticed except by the Ornithologist, on account of
the nature of its haunts—the midst of extensive woods and
forests, abounding with thick shrubs and trees. Its favourite
trees appear to be the holly and the fir, and amongst these—
especially the former—it may confidently be looked for, even
in the neighbourhood of houses. But in open unconcealed

188 THE LONGTAILED TIT.

spots, or in gardens, it occurs much less frequently than its
congeners, though it occasionally mingles with these in severe
winters.

I am not aware that this bird possesses even the shadow of a
song, and its only note is loud, shrill and clear, and has, not
unaptly, been compared to the sound of a bell, though the
notes are perfectly distinct, and by no means uttered in a
hurried manner. It is audible at a considerable distance, and,
when once heard, is not easily forgotten.

The nest of the Longtailed Tit is a most extraordinary piece
of architecture, and often requires a long time to complete,
though, in cases of emergency, I have known the whole struc-
ture to have been erected in less than a week. It is usually
situated in the holly or hawthorn tree, where two or more
branches meet, and also, though not so frequently, in fir trees ;
I have likewise seen one in a thick hedge in an unfrequented
spot.* It consists of various kinds of lichens, moss, wool, and
other substances, lined with a warm coating of feathers. When
completed, it is a perfect model of symmetry, and is of an oval
shape, with a small hole near the top. The whole surface is
studded over with white lichens, and sometimes with spiders’
webs, or some substance of a like nature, which gives a beau-
tiful finish to the structure, and renders it more similar to the
branches on which it is situated, than it would otherwise be.
It isso firmly fixed on the branches, that it would be impossi-
ble to take down the nest without cutting also the twigs on
which it is fastened. In a museum it isa very handsome object,
with the holly branch on which it was situated, but, if torn off
from this, its beauty is entirely spoilt.

According to Setpy, there are two holes in the structure,
through one of which it protrudes its long tail. Now though
I am by no means inclined to doubt that it may occasionally
be found (and of course Sexy has seen such specimens), yet
I am convinced that they are of extremely rare occurrence.

* T have seen one beautifully situated on the thickly-blossomed branch ofa
wild crab.—E. BLYTH.

THE LONGTAILED TIT. 189

Mr. Brytu informs me that he never met with a nest of this
description, nor have I, amongst the great number that I have
examined—both on the bush and in museums—ever seen more
than one hole, and that but a small one. My learned corres-
pondent, Suirtey Parmer, M.D., of Birmingham, is also of
opinion that two holes seldom or never occur.

RENNIE and others designate this species by the vulgar
name “‘ Bottle Tit,” on account of the nest being occasionally
found in the shape of a bottle; and a specimen,of this descrip-
tion is figured in Renn1rez’s popular compilation, the Architec-
ture of Birds, p. 332. It is, however, much more frequently
met with in a plain oval shape, without any neck, and witha
hole near the top. Longtailed Tit, is, consequently, a far more
correct appellation.

Unlike most of the other British Tits, it is entirely insecti-
vorous, being never observed to feed on carrion of any kind.
It seeks its insect prey amongst the branches and foliage of
trees, with the same assiduity as its congeners, hanging on the
under sides of the twigs, and frequently running up and down
the branches, in the same manner as the Goldcrested Kinglet.
Sometimes it associates with the Blue and Coal Tits, but is
more commonly observed i flocks of twelve or fourteen, pro-
bably constituting the family party. Its flight, though never
continued for any length of time, is straight and rapid. The
eggs, from nine to twelve—and sometimes even more—in num-
ber, are very small, and white, spotted at the larger end with
reddish brown dots.

“« Thave often endeavoured,” says Dr. LivERPooL, “ to pre-
serve the Longtailed Tit in confinement, but have never yet
succeeded. A pair of old birds, which I once caught in a trap
cage, were extremely shy and obstreperous, and would eat
nothing but insects. As it was soon found to be impossible to
supply them with a sufficiency of this food, they did not long
survive. I have had no better success with individuals taken

from the nest, and the species appear little fitted for confine-
ment.”

190 THE CRESTED TIT.

The covering of the Longtailed Tit looks more like hair than
feathers ; and this, as well as its small size, renders it a difficult
matter to stuff it in a satisfactory manner. Country bird-
stuffers, indeed, will hardly undertake the task.

Crestep Tit, Parus cristatus, ALDROV.

SYNONYMS. —Parus cristatus, WILL. Orn.— LINN. Syst.—LaTH. Ind. Orn.—
SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Crested Tit, MuUDIE’s Feath. Tribes.—Analyst, No. 13.

LittLe is known of the Crested Tit as a British bird, and
the account here given of it will, consequently, be brief, the
materials of its biography being meagre and unsatisfactory.
Dr. LatHam informs us that he received a specimen from Glen-
more, and we are assured on the authority of Sir Wm. Jar-
DINE, that it has been met with in some plantations near
Glasgow, where also it annually breeds. The following de-
scription of it, though short, and destitute of interesting detail,
is the best that I have to present to my readers, and is taken
from BEcHSTEIN’s amusing Cage Birds :—

“This bird is four inches and a half in length, of which the
tail measures one and one third. The beak is four lines, and
black; the shanks are seven lines high, and lead blue; the
head is adorned with a crest, composed of feathers nearly an
inch long, which the bird can erect at pleasure in a conical
form. It is black, tipped with white ; the forehead is spotted
with black and white; the cheeks are pale ash grey, bordered
on the lower and back parts with black; a broad reddish white
streak extends from the corners of the beak to the nape of the
neck, on which there is a black spot which stretches round the
neck like a collar, and unites on the breast with the black of
the throat; the back is rusty grey; the wings and tail are
greyish brown.

«When wild, these birds frequent all the pine and fir woods
in Thuringia, but are not so numerous as the other species.

THE CRESTED TIT. 191

They fly about low bushes, and therefore delight in places
where juniper bushes abound.

“In the house they require the same treatment as the Blue
Tit, and even greater attention; they can rarely be tamed
when taken full grown.* Ina wild state it feeds in the same
manner as the Coal Tit.—In the house it must be first fed on
ants’ eggs, flies, and meal-worms. It will afterwards eat nuts
and hemp-seed, like the other Tits, but it seems to require
insects occasionally.

The nest is formed like that of the Coal Tit, and placed in
the hole of a tree, amongst some stones, or in large forsaken
nests.¢ The brood consists of from six to ten snow white
eggs, spotted with bright red. The young must be reared on
meal-worms cut small, and ants’ eggs.

“©The mode of taking it is the same as that adopted for
catching the Coal Tits. Its call is ‘ goerrky.’ Its song is not
striking, but its form and habits are very pleasing.”—It is
much to be regretted, as its habits are, according to BecusTEIN,
so ‘ pleasing,’ that that author should not have furnished us
with some account of them, that we might have participated
in the pleasure experienced by our author in observing its
ways. Even the cage habits of birds, widely as they differ
from the natural ones, are at least interesting as facts, though
they may add but little to our knowledge of the species in its
native haunts, and in the full enjoyment of LIBERTY.

* «<T have, however, seen one old Crested Tit that was tamed as easily as any
other bird. After passing the winter in a cage, it refused its liberty in the spring.
It was then placed in the garden near the house, where it remained till evening,
having hopped about all day, uttering restless anxious cries, Its mistress, fear-
ing some accident befalling it during the night, held the cage towards it, into
which it immediately jumped with pleasure. Since then it has been allowed to
range three adjoining rooms. It is always lively, coming when its mistress calls,
and perching on her finger, and seeking in her half-closed hand the flies she may
have there. It madea nest in a window-curtain, into which it would glide se-
cretly in the evening, but would never go whilst any eyes were turned on that
side, and seized a favourable moment so quickly, that for some time no one
knew where it retired; when it was discovered, the curtains were never touched.”
—TRANSLATOR.

¢ In England, the House Sparrow frequently builds inside the deserted nests

of the Mag Pie, but I do not remember to have observed this habit in any of the
Tits.—N. W.

192 THE BEARDED PINNOCK.

Genus CALAMOPHILUS, Lracu. PINNOCK.

BearDED Pinnock, Calamophilus biarmicus, Leacu.

Synonyms.—Parus biarmicus, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—SELBy’s Br. Orn.
—Laniellus biarmicus, BLyTH in Field Nat. Mag.—Calamophilus biarmicus,
Lreacu.—Bearded Tit, Mupie’s Feath. Tribes.—Bearded Pinnock, Analyst,
No. 13.

Turs exquisitely beautiful bird is extremely localiy distri-
buted in England, but is sufficiently plentiful in many parts
where it does occur. As it is not met with so far north as the
midland counties, I have had no opportunity of observing it in
its native haunts, and am consequently compelled to draw my
information from other authors. It appears to be confined to
the southern counties, and is only found in a few even of
these. In the Magazine of Natural History, vol. ii. p. 222, we
find the following interesting account of this bird :—

«* Bearded Pinnocks inhabit the marshes bordering on the
Thames, both in Kent and Essex. I wastold, in December last,
that some had been lately seen in a large piece of reeds below
Barking Creek ; and being desirous and determined, if possible,
to see and observe them in their haunts, I went accompanied
by one person and a dog, to the above-named place on a cold
windy dull morning, weather by no means favourable for my
purpose; but the reed-cutters having even then commenced
their operations, I was fearful of deferring it, lest my game
should be driven away. Arrived on our ground, we traversed
it for some time without success; and were about to leave it,
when our attention was roused by the alarm cry of this species,
and looking up, we saw eight or ten of these beautiful little
creatures on the wing, just topping the reeds over our heads,
uttering in full chorus their sweetly musical note, which re-
sembles (if it may be likened to a word) the monosyllable ping,
ping ; pronounced at first slow and single, then two or three
times ina more hurried manner: it may be compared to the
music of very small cymbals; is clear and ringing though soft,

THE BEARDED PINNOCK. 193

and corresponds well with the delicacy and beauty of the form
and colour of the bird. We saw several flocks during the
morning, or, what is more probable, the same flock several
times. Their flights are short and low, only sufficient to clear
the reeds: on the seedy tops of which they alight to feed,*
hanging, like most of the subfamily, with the head or back
downwards. If disturbed, they immediately descend by run-
ning, or rather by dropping. The movement is rapid along
the stalk to the bottom, where they creep and flit, perfectly
concealed from view by the closeness of the covert and the re-
sembling tints of their plumage.

“We could hear, but not see, our dog hunting; and we
thought he was of service in pointing out to us whereabouts
the birds were. His being near them, however, did not make
them easily take wing; they seemed to follow him, hovering
and crying about him. I question if we should have seen, or
even heard, a single bird without his assistance. We were
fortunate enough to shoot one (a male) in fine plumage. |
held it in my hand when scarcely dead. Nothing could exceed
the beauty of the eye; the bright orange of the iris, nearly sur-
rounded as it is by the deep glossy black of the mustachios
and streak above, receives additional brilliancy from the con-
trast, and struck me as a masterpiece of arrangement in colour
and neatness. The bill also was of a fine clear delicate orange ;
but this too, soon became dull and opaque, I would here ask
if you, Sir, or any of your correspondents can guess of what
use the long feathers, called the mustachios of this bird, are.
We may fairly suppose that Nature does not give her creatures
useless appendages, for mere ornament; but I ownl am ata
loss to imagine their purpose, unless it be to aid the wearer in
its passage through so thick a covert.

“Tam told that the males and females keep distinct during

® Another correspondent mentions that it feeds on various small Mo/lusea,
and not on the seeds of reeds. The Mollusca are swallowed entire, and are tri-
turated in the stomach, with the aid of smallsharp stones, which it swallows.—
N. W.

Oo

194 THE BEARDED PINNOCK.

the winter. This is not improbable; WuiTe says the same
of the Chaff Finches, in his Natural History of Selborne. Ihad
no opportunity of deciding on the day in question. I have
heard also that the families of old and young birds are some-
times seen together in the months of August and September.
This I hope to witness; at present I am rather sceptical.”

For an account of the nidification of this interesting species
we shall extract further from the (formerly) valuable Magazine
of Natural History. At Vol. III. p. 328, we find the follow-
ing observations, by an acute observer of Nature—J. D. Hoy,
Esq., of Stoke Nayland, Suffolk :-—

“‘T have a few remarks to offer to you on the habits of the
Bearded Pinnock, which may be acceptable to some of your
readers ; and I think your correspondent on this subject (Vol.
II. p. 222) will be pleased to hear something farther of its
history. The borders of the large pieces of fresh water in
Norfolk called Broads, particularly Hickling and Horsey Broads,
are the favourite places of resort of this bird; indeed it is to
be met with in that neighbourhood wherever there are reeds in
any quantity, with fenny land adjoining. During the autumn
and winter they are found dispersed, generally in small parties,
throughout the whole length of the Suffolk coast, wherever there
are large tracts of reeds. I have found them numerous, in the
breeding season, on the skirts of Whittlesea, near Huntingdon-
shire, and they are not uncommon in the fenny district of
Lincolnshire ; whether they are to be met with farther north
T have had no means of ascertaining, but they do not appear
to have been noticed north of the Humber. It begins building
in the end of April. The nest is composed on the outside with
the dead leaves of the reed and sedge, intermixed with a few
pieces of grass, and invariably lined with the top of the reed,
somewhat in the manner of the nest of the Marsh Reedling
(Salicaria arundinacea), but not so compact in the interior. It
is generally placed in a tuft of coarse grass, or rushes near the
ground, on the margin of the dikes, in the fen; also sometimes'
fixed among the reeds that are broken down, but never sus-

THE BEARDED PINNOCK. 195

pended between the stems. The eggs vary in number from
four to six, rarely seven; pure white, sprinkled all over with
small purplish red spots, intermixed with a few small faint
lines and markings of the same colour; size about the same as
those of the Garden Tit, but much more rounded at the smaller
end. Their food during the winter is principally the seed of
the reed, and so intent are they in searching for it, that I have
taken them with a birdlime twig attached to the end of a fish-
ing-rod. When alarmed by any sudden noise, or the passing
of a Hawk, they utter their shrill musical notes (which your
correspondent has well described), and conceal themselves
among the thick bottom of the reeds, but soon resume their
station, climbing the upright stems with the greatest facility.
Their manners in feeding approach near to the Longtailed Tit,
often hanging with the head downwards, and turning them-
selves into the most beautiful attitudes. Their food is not
entirely the reed seed; but insects and their larve, and the
very young shell-snails of different kinds which are numerous
in the bottom of the reedlings. I have been enabled to watch
their motions when in search of insects, having, when there
has been a little wind stirring, been often within a few feet of
them, quite unnoticed, among the thick reeds. Was it not for
their note betraying them, they would be but seldom seen.
The young, until the autumnal moult, vary in plumage from
the old birds; a stripe of blackish feathers extends from the
hind part of the neck tothe rump. Your correspondent has
been informed the males and females keep separate during the
winter, but I have always observed them in company ; they
appear to keep in families until the pairing time, in the manner
of the Longtailed [and other] Tits; differing in this respect,
that you will occasionally find them congregated in large flocks,
more particularly during the month of October, when they
are migrating from their breeding places.”

“In this bird,” says Becusrrrn, “are united beautiful
plumage, a graceful shape, and sprightliness. Its song re-

Oo 2

196 THE BEARDED PINNOCK.

sembles that of the Blue Tit,* but its call is very different. It
is a pity it is so difficult to obtain. Burron says that all of
this species that are found in England, sprung from a pair the
Countess of ALBERMARLE suffered to escape ; but most likely
they had not been seen before from want of attention.”

To the above account I have little or nothing to add, and I
regret that my correspondents have not supplied me with any
nformation regarding this interesting species.

Since writing the foregoing account, my zealous friend Mr.
Epwarp Buytu, has informed me that he can at all times
procure as many of these lovely and innocent creatures as he
wishes ; but he does not state whether or not they are abun-
dant in his neighbourhood—Tooting, Surrey. The same gen-
tleman has likewise forwarded me a proof of a beautiful and
accurate engraving of this species, which will embellish the
first number of a work now in preparation for publication.t

The male, female, and young, are exquisitely figured in this
plate.

* Ifso, it scarce deserves the name of song.—N. W.
+ See the Ornithologist's Tert-book, p. 97.

THE HEDGE DUNNOCK. 197

Genus ACCENTOR, Brcust. DUNNOCK.

Hence Dunnock, Accentor modularis, Cuv.

And I have wander’d far, since the bright east
Was glorious with the dawning light of day ;
Seeing, as that effulgence more increas’d,
The mists of morning slowly melt away:
And, as I pass’d along, from every spray,
With dew-drops glistening, evermore have heard
Some feather’d songster chaunt his roundelay ;
Or bleat of sheep, or lowing of the herd;
Or rustling of fall’n leaf, when morning’s breezes stirr’d.
BERNARD BARTON.

Synonyms.—Motacilla modularis, Linn. Syst.—Sylvia modularis, LATH. Ind.
Orn.—Curruca sepiaria, Briss. O7vn.—Accentor modularis, Cuv. Régne Anim.—
SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Hedge Dunnock, Analyst, No. 13.—N. Woon’s Orn. Tezt-
book.

Tue Hedge Dunnock is resident and common with us
throughout the year, and, though of plain and unobtrusive
plumage, its habits are far from being uninteresting. Its fa-
vourite haunts are hedgerows, the skirts of woods, gardens,
and the neighbourhood of houses, farms, and other buildings.
Tn lonely uninhabited spots, it does not occur, nor in the midst
of extensive woods and forests. In summer it is much less
seen than in winter, as it then mostly conceals itself amongst
bushes, brakes, and thick hedges. No sooner, however, do
the cutting blasts of winter set in, than our humble songster
forsakes its hidling habits, and hops close under the windows
in quest of food. But, though equally familiar with its pug-
nacious neighbour, the Robin Redbreast, it seldom or never
passes the threshold of our dwellings, being content to glean
whatever may happen to be scattered on the outside. It is,
in fact, a remarkably hardy species, and is one of the few
Sylviade that ventures to brave the rigours of our northern
winters. In extremely severe seasons, and in the event of a

198 THE HEDGE DUNNOCK.

long protracted frost, however, it soon begins to droop, and
numbers perish under the hedgerows and bushes, and in the
immediate neighbourhood of houses. But long before the
matter is driven to this extremity, its starved and ruffled ap-
pearance, languid eye, and mournful chirp, all bespeak, to the
intelligent observer, the nature of the approaching destiny ;
though even this would appear to be rather the effect of hunger
than cold. For, if you open the window or door, the little
sufferer will seldom enter, but, throw him a few crumbs of
bread or bruised seed of any kind, and he appears revived
almost immediately.

The song of the Hedge Dunnock, though 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. cer-
tainly deserves the consideration of the bird-fancier. But it
appears to be little prized as a cage bird, being rarely kept in
confinement. It is included in Becustertn’s Cage Birds, and
is mentioned by that author as a gay and amusing bird in con-
finement, and easily tamed; which I can assert to be perfectly
true, having frequently kept three or four for a considerable
period, of which further mention will be made hereafter. In
the mean time, let us return to the discussion of his musical
abilities.

The notes are usually uttered from the middle or top of a
hedge or low bush, 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. Ata
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 familyt

* Both its haunts, and the limited power of its voice, entirely forbid this.
+ The Goldcrested Kinglet and Ivy Wren are before it.

THE HEDGE DUNNOCK. 199

to break the universal silence which had prevailed during the
dreary and monotonous winter months. The song is frequently
heard so 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.

The nest consists exteriorly of sticks, moss, and wool, rather
loosely woven together, and lined with horse and cow hair. |
may here observe that Syme (in his Treatise on British Song.
Birds) is quite mistaken when he says that birds only use hair
of a white or grey colour, for the lining of their nests. I have
seen many nests wholly lined with black hair, and others with
all colours intermixed, and I do not think any one colour can
be said to occur most frequently, though some birds (as the
Whin Linnet) commonly use white or light coloured hair, and
others (as the Robin Redbreast), according to my experience,
usually employ black hair. I may, however, be wrong in
these instances, or at least exactly the opposite of what is above
mentioned, may possibly take place in some parts of the coun-
try. With regard to the present species, two of its nests, now
in my possession, contain hair of different colours.

The usual site of the nest is a hedge or almost any kind of
low bush, and here it is not unfrequently deposited before the
buds are sufficiently expanded to afford a satisfactory shelter to
the structure; and hence, during the early part of the season,
few of the nests remain to perform their duty. Nor, indeed,
is the Hedge Dunnock at any time very solicitous as to the loca-
lity of its structure, but appears to take possession of the first
uncccupied* spot that is at hand. On this account, and the
consequently immense number of nests that are robbed, it is
almost surprising that the species is still so plentiful, though,
certainly, a tolerably large proportion of nests in sequestered
spots, or in gardens where bird-nesting is (happily) unknown,
do escape uninjured. The second and third broods, moreover,

* I presume most of my readers are aware that none of our smaller British
irds (the Field Thrush excepted) will build ina tree or bush which already
contains a nest, whether that nest be deserted or not.

200 THE HEDGE DUNNOCK.

are invariably—both with this and other species—better con-
cealed than the first; and, accordingly, during the latter part
of the breeding season, the nests are often so carefully con-
cealed, near the bottom of a stiff and thick bush or hedge, as
to render it, in many cases, an extremely difficult matter to
discover them. Sometimes I have in vain searched a bush
which I was all but certain contained a Hedge Dunnock’s nest,
and was at length compelled to abandon the place; but, hap-
pening to pass by some time afterwards, discovered it by mere
chance, by seeing the female fly from the exact spot where the
nest was concealed.

The Hedge Dunnock rarely builds in outhouses, though two
or three instances of it have fallen under my observation. Of
these, one was amongst some bushes of various kinds, which
had recently been rooted up and thrown into a corner of the
garden-house. In this situation, the female had hatched her
young; but, when they were about a week old, the garden-
house was, contrary to order, locked up on Saturday evening,
and remained closed till Monday morning, when I found that
the female had been excluded, and, of course, that the young
brood had perished. Another nest was built in a bundle of
pea-sticks, in an out-building, and the young were hatched
and reared successfully. I have likewise found the nest fixed
on the stone of an iron garden-roller, which had long lain in a
little-trequented spot, unused. This happened in 1833; but,
though the same roller has remained in the same place, during
the two succeeding summers, it has not been again thus singu-
larly tenanted. I had fully expected that the same pair of
Hedge Dunnocks would have built again in the roller, as it
frequently returns many successive years to breed in the same
spot, especially if the last brood had been reared successfully.
Possibly, however, the old birds had perished by some ac-
cident.

Another still more remarkable circumstance regarding a nest
I once knew in a lavender bush, is as follows :—

Visiting one evening, towards the close of May, 1835, the

THE HEDGE DUNNOCK. 201

nest above alluded to, to my no small surprise I discovered a
fat and full-grown animal, usually called a frog, gravely seated
on five Hedge Dunnock’s eggs. Wishing to discover its mo-
tives for undertaking so extraordinary a charge, I did not at
the time dislodge the reptile, which sat staring me full in the
face, evidently viewing me in the light of an interloper. But,
on returning to the spot a few hours afterwards, I found it still
in the same snug berth, and in precisely the same position as
before. Considering it now high time to investigate the state
of the case, I shoved the corpulent reptile over the sides of the
lodging it had so impudently appropriated to itself, when it
hopped away just as if nothing particular had happened. What
inducement could there possibly have been for it to remain in
sO preposterous a situation? But the question is more easily
proposed than answered, and I leave the solution of it to my
readers. At first it struck me that the frog must have been
set on the eggs by some wag, but the nest was in a spot little
likely to have been frequented by such gentry; and probably
the saucy creature would not have remained had it been placed
there. I imagine I need scarcely inform my readers that the
rightful owners of the nest never returned to their charge.

The eggs of the Hedge Dunnock are four or five in number,
and of a somewhat deeper blue than those of the Tree Redstart,
and also more elliptical. They vary little, and the number
never exceeds six.

The Hedge Dunnock is almost wholly a ground or bush bird,
being seldom observed on 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 thickesé
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 frequently
observed, and especially in summer, whence the expressive
popular name “shufflewing,” by which the bird is known in
many parts of the country. Whilst singing, also, the same
kind of quivering motion of the wings and tail is employed, as

202 THE HEDGE DUNNOCK.

well as in darting on a worm or caterpillar on the ground. In
hopping along the ground, likewise, it has a peculiar habit of
flirting up its tail, and turning quickly from side to side, ever
and anon picking up minute insects invisible to our naked eyes.
The Robin Redbreast’s mode of capture is usually effected by —
‘darting on its prey from the branch of a tree, but this is much
seldomer observed in the Hedge Dunnock, which appears to
prefer gaining its livelihood in a quieter and less obtrusive
manner. All its habits are, in fact, simple and unaffected, in-
somuch that it either passes wholly unnoticed by the ordinary
observer, or is mistaken for the House Sparrow. I verily be-
lieve that by far the greater number of persons residing in the
country, do make this latter mistake, and probably they have
anything but a distinct idea even of the House Sparrow. This
to the Ornithologist may appear impossible, but so many in-
stances of the kind have come to my notice, that I am scarcely
astonished at any remark on our most common birds, that may
fall from the lips of an ordinary observer.

The food of this bird consists of various kinds of insects and
larve, and also of the seeds of different grasses, to which latter
it is very partial. It never eats green food, such as groundsel
(Senecio vulgaris), chickweed, &c., but in winter, when food is
scarce, it greedily devours crumbs of bread, potatoes, or almost
anything that may be thrown to it. From fruit it abstains al-
together, and is, accordingly, entirely beneficial to the gardener,
though the latter is seldom aware of its services, and destroys
its nest whenever he meets with it, as unmercifully as he would
those which he, in his purblind wisdom, considers most detri-
mental to his narrow views and interests. Every gardener
should have a perfect knowledge of the commoner British birds
and insects, in order to succeed in his profession, though it is
by no means necessary, or perhaps even desirable, that he
should be a scientific Ornithologist or Entomologist. But to
return to our sombre little songster.

In the article “ Misset Turusu,” I mentioned that the only
bird I then had in confinement, wasa solitary Hedge Dunnock,

THE HEDGE DUNNOCK. 203

who enjoyed the run of a large aviary. The same individual is
atill (January the 3rd, 1836) in my possession, but it is no
longer in a solitary cell, having three companions, to wit, ano-
ther Hedge Dunnock, and two of those implacable enemies,
Robin Redbreasts. Now, though the Hedge Dunnock is by no
means a quarrelsome bird by nature, yet the two in question
have become much more so since their confinement and inter-
course with their gentle-/ooking companions of the red breast.
Before, they appeared—to my vision at least—perfectly happy
and contented, both with their situation and with each other ;
but, since the addition of the aforesaid Robin Redbreast, there
has scarce been a-moment’s peace in the aviary. All is discord
and hatred. Sometimes on placing their food before them,
after a short fast had furnished them with the best of sauces,
a general scramble took place amongst the parties concerned ;
nor were they satisfied with pecking at their food, but must
needs have a bite at each other, and frequently all four make a
simultaneous dash at each other, and I, the jailor, leave them
to make up their quarrel as they can! These bickerings gene-
rally terminate by the defeat of the poor Hedge Dunnocks,
though these frequently make three or four efforts before they
abandon their purpose.

But by far the most virulent conflicts take place between the
two Robin Redbreasts. Both of them invariably assist in van-
quishing the Dunnocks, but, this accomplished, they commence
single combat between themselves, and this species of warfare
knows no termination. To those acquainted with its habits in
its wild state, this is by no means surprising, though it is re-
markable, that the individual which usually has the ascend-
ancy, has lately become quite ragged, and has lost a consider-
able portion of its head dress; whilst its companion, a some-
what larger bird, is sleek and in excellent feather. Until I had
duly investigated the merits of the case, I always considered
the plump bird as the victor, but a few minutes observation of
their conduct, quickly convinced me of the contrary.

The more peaceful Hedge Dunnocks seldom go to such ex-

204 THE HEDGE DUNNOCK.

tremities as their relentless companions,* and their chief bone
of contention is their food. They are mostly harmless and in-
offensive, but sometimes maintain a tough struggle for supe-
riority, with the Robin Redbreasts. Few species sooner become
inured to confinement, or require less care. If their companions
be tolerably tame, a week’s time will suffice to render it per-
fectly familiar and contented; it is also fully as hardy as any
of the Fringillide (Finch family), and its cage may hang with
impunity in an outhouse, where the thermometer is so low as
fourteen or sixteen degrees below the freezing point. And this
confirms my opinion, expressed in a former part of the article,
that it is hunger, and not cold, that causes such numbers to
perish in severe and long-protracted winters.

In spring and summer, its best food is bread moistened with
water, and mixed with worms, slugs, flies, or almost any kind
of insect food. In autumn the seeds of various kinds of
grasses may advantageoutly be added, and, when the first frost
sets in, bruised hemp and carraway seed must be beaten up
with crumb of bread and a little milk or water, and mashed up
into a fine paste. The warming nature of this food will enable
it to outlive the rigours of the hardest winters, even in an open
outbuilding. The bottom of the cage should be thickly covered
with sand, and a large basin of water may constantly remain
in its cage, both winter and summer, and must be renewed
every day. It is both a dusting and a washing bird, but the
former is usually resorted to in winter, and the latter in sum-
mer, so that there is no fear of its washing itself to death, as
the Reedlings, Redstarts, Warblers, and other imprudent birds
not unfrequently do.

To complete the list of its conveniences—necessaries I might
almost call them—sprigs of its favourite bushes may be intro-
duced into the aviary. Evergreens are, however, the best, on

* I know not whether Deville possesses the skulls of these two species, in his
beautiful and extensive collection, but it would be curious to examine their
phrenological development. If I am not greatly mistaken, a striking difference
would be found in the relative size of their organs of Combativeness and Destruc-
tiveness.

THE HEDGE DUNNOCK. 205

account of their requiring to be renewed much seldomer ; and,
if your birds are kept in a room, different kinds of bushes and
brushwood may be heaped up inacorner. In these the Hedge
Dunnock will roost at night, each individual taking up its abode
in exactly the same spot each night, as they do when wild.
The bushes also serve as a refuge in the daytime, in case of any
danger. Nothing conduces more to the health and happiness
of cage birds than these branches, and it is surprising that no
mention of them should occur in BecusTEINn’s treatise on the
subject. If they were always employed, I am convinced that
the very frequent complaint of sore and gouty feet, would be of
much rarer occurrence than is at present the case.

Upon the whole, few of our common indigenous birds pos-
sess more interesting and diversified habits than the humble
Hedge Dunnock, yet perhaps few have attracted less attention,
either from the Ornithologist or the ordinary observer—doubt-
less on account of its plain and unobtrusive manners and
plumage. Ina state of nature, its endless habits are well de-
serving of study, and in confinement it is gentle, familiar, and
confiding.

The sexes are scarcely distinguishable, but the plumage of
the young of the year is considerably darker and more mottled
than that of adults. Varieties sometimes occur, and in its

wild state it frequently dies of swellings about its nostrils and
head.

206 THE ALPINE ANNET.

Genus CURRUCA, Becust. ANNET.

Auping ANNET, Curruca collaris, C. T. Woop.

Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky,
Mont Blanc appears, still, snowy, and serene—
Its subject-mountains their unearthly forms
Pile round it, ice and rock; broad vales between,
Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps,
Blue as the overhanging heav’n, that spread
And wind among the accumulated steeps 3
A desert, peopled by the storms alone.
SHELLEY.

Synonyms.—Motacilla Alpina, GMEL.Linn.—Sturnus Moritanicus and S. collaris,
GMEL. Linn.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—STEPH. Gen. Zool.—Accentor Alpinus, BECHST.
Naturg. Deut.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Curruca Alpina, Analyst, No. 13.—Collared
Stare and Alpine Warbler, Latu. Syn.—Alpine Accentor, SELBy’s Br. Orn,—
Alpine Stare, Analyst, No. 13.—Alpine Annet, N. Woop s Orn. Tezt-book.

Ir would appear that a single specimen of this bird, shot in
the garden of King’s College, Cambridge, and now in the pos-
session of the Rev. Dr. THackeray, is the only individual
which has been met with in Britain. It was mentioned in the
Zoological Journal, Vol. I. p. 134, and must, therefore, have
been killed about twelve years ago. Dr. Laruam informs me
that he has a stuffed specimen of it in his collection, which he
believes to have been killed in Britain, but that he cannot
speak with any certainty on the subject, on account of the
numbers of individuals he has, at various times, received from
Gibraltar, where it is sufficiently plentiful.—There is a beauti-
ful wood-cut of the Alpine Annet in the “ History of the Rarer
British Birds, being a continuation of Brewicx, by T. C. Ey-
Ton, Esq.,” but the description there given is extremely meagre
and unsatisfactory. As it would be of little use for me to hash
up an apparently original account of the bird from other
authors, I make no apology for transcribing that which ap-
pears in Sensy’s invaluable Illustrations of British Ornitho-
logy, Vol... p247 c——

THE ALPINE ANNET. 207

‘‘In form and general appearance, it resembles our indige-
nous species, the Hedge Dunnock (Accentor modularis), but
exceeds it considerably in size, and differs in the disposition
and colours of its plumage. It is an inhabitant of the moun-
tainous regions of Europe, and particularly affects those dis-
tricts which are of an abrupt and rocky character. Upon the
Swiss Alps it is very common (as its name implies), and may
always be seen by travellers in the environs of the Convent
upon Mount St. Bernard. In summer it ascends to very ele-
vated stations, where it breeds in holes, and under ledges of
the rocks, laying four or five eggs of a fine greenish-blue co-
lour. As winter advances, and the snow begins to accumulate
upon the rocky steeps, it descends towards the valleys and mid-
dle regions of the mountains, where it subsists upon the seeds
of Alpine grasses and plants ; which at this time constitute its
principal support. In summer, however, in addition to its ve-
getable diet, it destroys grasshoppers and other insects, and
their larve.

*« General description.—Bill strong, straight, and _fine-
pointed ; the upper mandible brownish-black ; the lower one
orange-yellow, except the tip, which is black. Head, nape of
the neck, rump, and breast, pale hair-brown, tinged with grey.
Back the same; with the centres of the feathers blackish-
brown. Scapulars and tertiaries deeply margined with pale
reddish-brown. Lesser and greater wing-coverts black; éach
feather being terminated by a triangular white spot. Quills
hair-brown, tipped and margined with greyish white, mar-
gined with yellowish white. Flanks and abdomen orange-
brown, margined with yellowish-white. Tail hair-brown ;
the exterior feathers terminating in a large reddish-white spot
upon the inner webs. Legs and feet strong, pale reddish-
brown ; hind claw very strong, and much arched.”

There is a representation of the Alpine Annet, natural size,
in SeLBy’s splendid plates.

208 THE PIED WAGTAIL.

Susram. V. MOTACILLINA.
Genus MOTACILLA, Lata. WAGTAIL.

Prep WaeraliL, Motacilla maculosa, C. T. Woop.

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.
Minstrelsy of the Woceds.

SyNonyMs.—Motacilla alba, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—SELBY's Br. Orn.
—Motacilla maculosa, Analyst, No. 14.—Pied Wastail, SELBY’s Br. Orn.—
Muptr’s Feath. Tribes.

Tu1s species is indigenous in the south of England, but is a
periodical visitant in the northern counties, appearing in Febs
ruary and departing in October. In the midland counties it is
met with throughout the year, but is much less common in
winter than in summer, from which we may infer that num-
bers migrate, on the approach of the inclement seasons, to the
south, whence they again return towards the end of February.

In places where it is indigenous, and also in the districts
where it is only known as a periodical visitant, it is extremely
abundant, and, indeed, it occurs plentifully in every part of
Britain, ranging so far north as the Orkneys. Its favourite
haunts are the margins of running streams, and meadows in-
tersected by clear pebbly brooks; it also frequents the neigh-
bourhood of houses, and may constantly be seen running on
the grass or gravel before the house, sporting about in a thou-
sand different ways, now darting on its prey, and wagging its
long tail, now singing on the ledge of the roof, or on the iron
railings, and making a dozen other pleasing little manceuvres,

THE PIED WAGTAIL. 209

which the intelligent observer of Nature and her beauties, can-
not fail to notice. Indeed the Pied Wagtail forms one of the
most delightful features of the country, and nothing can be
more amusing than to watch half a dozen of these lively and
elegant little creatures, sporting about the meadows, or along
the margins of the clear, rippling stream.

The song is not powerful, but is far from being monotonous
‘or destitute of melody. It is soft and sweet, short in stave,
and is mostly uttered on the ground, from the roof of a low
building, or, occasionally, while suspended on the wing. The
latter, however, is not a common occurrence, nor is the bird
by any means a continuous or garrulous songster, on which
account it’is little known to the vulgar in its musical capacity.
The strains are not, perhaps, sufficiently excellent to render
it desirable to preserve the Pied Wagtail in confinement, espe-
cially as it is a difficult matter to maintain it in health for any
considerable period, on artificial food, but, when heard in the
peculiar haunts of the species, they are far from being despicable.
It frequently utters a shrill cry in running along the ground,
or when in the act of seizing its prey, and this is its usual call-
“note.

The localities in which the nest is found, are various. Stony
spots, are, however generally preferred, and the holes of ivy-
clad walls or trees are the usual sites. It also occurs amongst
heaps of large stones, and, according to some, at the tops of
old pollard trees, though I never myself saw it in such a
situation. I once knewa pair build in a flower-pot, in a little-
frequented garden; it was, however, deserted before any eggs
were laid, in consequence of curiosity having tempted me to
visit the spot too frequently. The following year, the flower-
pot was purposely established in the same place, but the birds
never returned, though a pair of House Sparrows did. A far
more curious instance, however, is the following :—

A rat-catcher in the neighbourhood informed me last year,
that having accidentally left an old wooden rat-trap in an out-
house for a few days, with one of its sliding sides missing, to

P

210 THE PIED WAGTAIL.

his great surprise he one day perceived a Pied Wagtail fly out,
with a bit of moss in its bill. A Brown Rat and a Pied Wag-
tail could scarcely be making love together! but it struck the
shrewd rat-catcher that something extraordinary must be going
on within his rat-catching, money-catching trap, and on peer-
ing into it, found neither more nor less than the half finished
nest of a bird, in one of the further corners. Strange to tell,
the fellow—laying aside for once his murderous, destructive
propensities—left the nest untouched, and the birds, finding
themselves in safe quarters, proceeded rapidly with their archi-
tectural operations. About this time, I chanced to be riding
that way, and the man called me to see his “ curiosity.” It
now contained five eggs, and we found the female sitting. Our
near approach nowise alarmed her, nor did she fly away when
I looked in at her. Nothing would have been easier than to
have made her prisoner, and I doubt not but she would have
continued sitting had she been handled, in the manner related
of the Robin Redbreast, as detailed in that article. In general,
I should be inclined to consider the Pied Wagtail rather a shy
species during incubation, and it is impossible to adduce any
satisfactory reason for the above singular departure from its
usual habits. Possibly, however, it might be on account of
the paucity of old walls, in which to nidificate, in the imme-
diate neighbourhood. And I may here remark, that the Pied
Wagtail, as well as the Robin Redbreast, has its peculiar beats
or haunts, and, as it seldom strays far from these, in defect of
the ordinary conveniences for nest-building, an unusual locality
must be resorted to.

But this species does not often deviate from its common
routine of nidification. For amongst many dozens of nests that
I have examined, only a very few have exhibited any singularity,
either in their composition or in their sites. Once or twice,
however, I have known it to occur on the branch of a low lau-
rel or other thick bush, and here the structure displayed much
more art and ingenuity than is usually observed in the nest of
this bird. Indeed the loose and careless manner in which hole-

THE PIED WAGTAIL. pie | |

builders commonly frame it, would but ill suit so open and un-
sheltered a site as a bush or tree, and, therefore, the nests of
birds will mostly be found to vary their labours according to
the localities selected by them for nidification.

The nest consists chiefly of moss and wool, mixed with
grass, and frequently also with fibrous roots. In one or two
instances, likewise, 1 remember to have seen nests in which
twigs, mixed with moss, were the principal materials. Such,
however, I have only known to occur once in a way, and the
circumstance was accounted for by the nest being situated in a
laurel bush, instead of the usual hole ofa wall ; and, probably, the
structure would scarcely have held together if it consisted merely
of soft substances, as wool, moss, &c. The inside is lined with
horse and cow hair. On the whole, the structure is warm, com-
modious, and well adapted to its purposes, but the species ap-
pears to be little aware of the advantages of the ‘‘ felting ”’ line
of business !—The eggs are four or five in number, of a very
light ash colour, speckled all over with small brown dots. They
greatly resemble those of the Grey Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus,
Linn.), but are a trifle smaller, less inclined to the elliptical,
and of a somewhat lighter hue. The similarity is, however,
so close, as to induce the Cuckoo frequently to deposit its eggs
in the nest of the Pied Wagtail. But, if the eggs of these two
birds bear an intimate resemblance to each other, no two eggs
can differ more widely than those of the Cuckoo and Hedge
Dunnock, and the nest of the latter is at least as frequently
selected as that of the Pied Wagtail. Therefore something be-
sides the similarity of the eggs, must guide the Cuckoo in its
choice. What that ‘ something” is, we cannot at present
stop to discuss. The future investigations of the very many
talented field Naturalists of this country, will doubtless do
much towards the elucidation of the yet somewhat obscure his-
tory of this interesting and remarkable bird.

The food of the Pied Wagtail consists of various kinds of
insects and larve, and also minute Mollusca, in search of
which it is constantly and unceasingly employed, displaying

P 2

O12 THE PIED WAGTAIL.

the most lively and pleasing motions. Few birds possess more
interesting habits, or a more active and cheerful appearance,
than the Pied Wagtail, and its brisk sprightly manners cannot
fail to attract the attention of every one residing in the
country, who does not wholly shut his eyes to the beauties of
Nature, so constantly before him, and presented, too, in such
an infinite variety of shapes.—The Pied Wagtail frequently
catches its insect food in the air, either darting from the
ground, or from the tops of gates, railings, &c., but it does not
make a regular business of this, in the manner of the Fly-
catchers, adopting this method only occasionally, or by chance.
Numerous aquatic insects are likewise seized while sporting
over the surface of the water, and in the more immediate
neighbourhood of houses, these indefatigable birds may be seen
running about in all directions, with the utmost celerity,
occasionally uttering a shrill but pleasant cry, and wagging
their tails, as if anxious to testify their inexpressible joy in
every possible way. It seldom remains long on the wing,
being, in fact, mostly a ground bird, and thus indicating,
sufficiently obviously, the approach to the Larks, which is
effected through the Oatears and Pipits. The Hedge Dunnock
and Alpine Annet are likewise in a great measure ground birds,
but considerably less so than the Wagtails.

According to some Ornithologists, before departing in
Autumn to the southern counties, they assemble in small
fiocks, frequenting the margins of pools and streams. That
such may be the case in some parts of the kingdom, I have no
doubt, but have never observed it to take place in this county,
though many of the individuals bred here, do depart in due
season, to the south. I have, however, occasionally known
small troops, of fifteen or twenty individuals, pass my im-
mediate neighbourhood, without staying to rest themselves in
the least. During its migrations, it seldom flies at any great
elevation, and probably only remains on the wing for a short
time.

The Pied Wagtail, as might be expected, from its aquatic

THE FIED WAGTAIL. or

habits, is extremely partial to washing, usually selecting for
this purpose a clear, shallow, and pebbly stream, where it
enters the water, and commences a brisk fluttering, which
effectually throws the fluid over its whole plumage. If kept
in confinement—and that would be possible enough—its cage
should be spacious, though it need not be lofty, and a large
basin of water, frequently renewed, should be constantly
left in the aviary.

Fond as is the Pied Wagtail of the vicinity of water, it is
little partial to dank, stagnant pools and muddy lakes, or to
boggy, marshy grounds, covered with rushes, or woods, and
here, accordingly, it will be vain to look for it. Nor does it
occur in the dry upland districts and sheep walks, that are the
favourite haunts of the Spring Oatear; meadows or lawns in-
tersected by clear running streams, or gravelly spots in the
neighbourhood of houses, being the most likely localities to
find it, though of course it will occasionally be met with else-
where.

A friend informs me that he has seen an individual of this
species whose whole plumage was pure white, and I have
myself met with specimens more or less white. It is perhaps
more subject to variety than any other British bird, individuals
nearly black, and others as nearly white, having frequently
fallen under my notice, in their wild state. A correspondent
thus remarks on this subject :—

«TI have now, in my collection, two remarkable varieties of
the Pied Wagtail, and have lately given away another not less
curious. One of these was of a dusky black all over, with
spots of white on the head and neck. The second was of the
usual black and white colour, but spotted instead of pied; and
the third was pure white, with the exception of a few black
specks on the wings, and under the tail. All three were shot
by myself at various times, and I hope you will consider them
worthy of being recorded. I do not think I ever met with any
other varieties of this bird, nor do I consider it subject to de-
viations of plumage.—N. D.”

214 THE GREY WAGTAIL.

The above instances, detailed by my intelligent corres-
pondent, are extremely remarkable, but it is surprising that he
should not consider the species ‘subject to deviations of
plumage,”’ seeing that he has met with three most curious
varieties, within (as he informs me) three or four years. Mr.
Bartow, of Cambridge, likewise alludes to varieties of the
Pied Wagtail, in a recent communication, but I regret that he
makes no particular mention of them. I never myself observed
deviations so striking as those communicated by N. D., but
every one must have noticed the extreme diversity which takes
place in different specimens, and that from no changes of sex,
age, or season, but regular varieties.

‘Tn autumn and winter,” says Sexsy, ‘‘ the black upon
the throat and breast gives place to pure white, and the upper
parts also incline to blackish-grey ; rendering the male bird,
at this season of the year, scarcely distinguishable from the
female.’”’—Of course I had noticed this seasonal change, but,
irom not possessing specimens in the different states, could not
have described it with the accuracy so desirable and essential
in works on Natural History.

Grey WactaiL, Motacilla cinerea, WI.

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 voices of deeper tone.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Sy NoNyMs.—Motacilla cinerea, WILL. Orn.—Analyst, No. 14.—Motacilla boarula,
LInN. Syst.—LaTH. Ind. Orn.—Motacilla melanopa, GmMEL. Linn.—LATH.
Ind. Orn.—Motacilla sulphurea, BEcHsT. Naturg. Deut.—Grey Wagtail,
SELBY’s Br. Orn.—MuDIE’s Feath. Tribes.

Tuts beautiful, sprightly and elegant bird much resembles
the preceding species in shape, but is longer and more slender,

THE GREY WAGTAIL. 215

with a tail somewhat more produced. The whole of the under
parts are of a bright and lovely yellow, and the head and back
are yellowish green, which not unfrequently causes it to be
confounded with the Spring Oatear, and it has, even by some
Ornithologists, been termed the ‘‘ Yellow Wagtail,”’ the name
by which the Spring Oatear is usually known in books. The
latter was, however, separated from the true or typical Wag-
tails, by Cuvier, and is very properly termed the Spring
Oatear in the fourteenth number of that admirable Journal of
Science, Literature, Natural History, and the Fine Arts, THE
ANALYST.

In the south of England, it is only met with in winter, but
it spends the summer in the northern counties, appearing about
the middle of April, and departing at the close of September.
In Derbyshire and Staffordshire, however, we are gladdened
with its presence throughout the year, though it is perhaps
most abundant in the spring and summer months, indicating
that some individuals take their departure for the south, on the
approach of the inclement seasons, accompanying, probably,
its northern brethren in their migrations.

Like the Pied Wagtail, it frequents the borders of clear,
pebbly streams, flowing through lawns or meadows, where it
may constantly be seen running about with the utmost agility.
It likewise resembles its pied congener in searching for insects
and small Molluscous animals in the water, into which it may
frequently be observed to wade a considerable way, especially
if the stream be clear and shallow ; and in this, doubtless, ori-
ginated the popular and erroneous notion that it is able to
swim,—a feat for which it is nowise calculated. In the imme-
diate vicinity of houses, it is met with much less frequently
than the Pied Wagtail, and it is, consequently, less familiar to
the common observer, or, if seen, probably mistaken for the
Spring Oatear; but in its own peculiar haunts it is sufficiently
abundant. It is, however, neither so widely distributed, nor
so common, as the Pied Wagtail ; and the localities frequented
by it are much less varied than those of that bird. To pebbly

216 THE GREY WAGTAIL.

streams, it displays a similar partiality with its congener, but
meadows and the banks of lakes are not so exclusively its
haunts, as with the Pied Wagtail. It often frequents the
lower and more marshy grounds, and may commonly be met
with, especially in winter, in sheltered lanes, ditches, stagnant
pools, reed-grown tracts, and flooded fields, where the Pied
species seldom or never occur.

With regard to vocal powers, the Grey Wagtail has no
claims on our attention; but this deficiency is amply compen-
sated by the beautiful and elegant shape, chaste and lovely
tints, and sprightly habits of the bird in its natural state. A
bird can charm us much more by attractions of plumage, form,
and habits, than it can by its song, be that song as pretty as it
may.* There is little musical merit in the song of any bird,
though nothing can be more delightful, in its way, than to
listen to the vernal chorus, on a balmy morning in May. It is
the tout ensemble, mingled with the associations that sponta-
neously arise at that period of the year, and at that time of
day, that constitutes the chief charm of the melody of the fea-
thered race. And, though the thorough-bred bird-fancier (who
has been the innocent cause of bringing much derision on the
study of birds) doubtless listens with a certain satisfaction
to the strains of his prisoners, yet this feeling is for the most
part a sordid and selfish one, and is not to be compared to the
pure and lofty delight experienced by the true lover of Nature,
in listening to the thrilling melody of the groves. And, even
then, association has doubtless much more to do in the matter
than is generally supposed. But to return to the unmelodious
subject of the present memoir, whom we have somewhat un-
courteously detained in the ante-chamber, whilst making the
above reflections, suggested by the want of musical ability on
the part of the Grey Wagtail. Its nidification next demands
our attention.
the chief charms of the strains of this bird consists in the time at which it re-

counts its ** dismal tale.’’ A proof of this is the fact of the disregard of authors
and observers to the circumstance of its singing in the day as wellas at night.

THE GREY WAGTAIL. ; 217

The nest consists of moss and dry grass, and, occasionally
also, fibres of roots; it is lined with hair, and, in some in-
stances, with a few feathers, though by far the greater number
that I have inspected, contained no feathers, or only one or
two, which might have dropped from the body of one of the
parent birds. It is usually situated in the shelving and stony
banks of rivers. In this neighbourhood it breeds in many
places,—beside the lake flowing through Foston, and in many
parts of Boilston, but nowhere so abundantly as in the neigh-
bourhood of Scropton, which appears, in fact, to be the ren-
dezvous of the species in these parts. Here numbers breed
annually, on the banks of the undulating Dove river. The
Grey Wagtail seldom or never builds in the vicinity of houses,
and the localities in which the nest is found vary but little-
And this remark holds good with all birds that breed in wild
unfrequented spots, as compared with the more domestic and
familiar species ; for the latter must accommodate themselves to
the changes effected by the “lords of the Creation,” or are in-
duced to buildin unusual spots by the artifices of man, whilst the
bird of the free uncultivated wild is subject to no such constraint.

The food of this species is the same as that of the Pied Wag-
tail—insects and larve, and likewise small Mollusca. In the
capture of these, the same rapid, elegant, and fantastic move-
ments are observable as in its congener, and it takes its prey in
a similar manner. In spring and summer the plumage is of a
lovely bright yellow, but this becomes considerably paler in
winter. The black patch on the throat gives place, at that pe-
riod, to a very light yellow, in both sexes. The tints of the
female are less bright than those of the male, and the tail is a
trifie shorter. In other respects they are similar.—The Grey
Wagtail is extremely partial to washing, and it is extremely
pleasing to watch it, on a hot summer’s day, fluttering in the
clear and pebbly stream, and then repairing to the top of a bush
or low tree, where the sun’s rays, and its own effective beak,
soon dries its plumage, rendering it, if possible, more brilliant
than it had previously been.

218 THE GREY WAGTAIL-

“The Grey Wagtail,”” says my indefatigable correspondent,
Cuaries Liverpoot, Esq., M.D., “ is one of the few small
British birds which I never endeavoured to preserve in confine-
ment. I intend, however, shortly to make the trial, on the
plan you suggested, which will doubtless succeed, at least if
proper care be taken of the birds. When I have made the ex-
periment, I will write you word of my success. I cannot, with
you, consider it a pity to cage even these birds,* because I
think that almost any species may be rendered perfectly tame,
and contented with their station; and long and extensive expe-
rience has hitherto borne out my assertion. Much more de-
pends on the management of the person who has the care of the
birds, than on the dispositions of the birds themselves. But to
preserve birds successfully, a man must not be a mere bird-
fancier—a most despicable race—but must possess an intimate
acquaintance with the feathered tribes—in other words, he

must be a true field Ornithologist, and an acute observer of
Nature.”

* Most birds may, by proper treatment, be rendered comfortable and happy in

confinement; but acaged Lark or Wagtail must necessarily be a miserable ob-
ject.—N. W.

THE SPRING OATEAR. 219

Genus BUDYTES, Cuv. OATEAR.

Spring Oatear, Budytes verna, Cuv.

Still thy visits their bright looks bring,
And our prayers ascend the while,
That the Guide of thy feeble wing,
On the children’s path may smile.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SyYNONYMS.—Motacilla fiava, LaTH. Ind. Orn.—SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Budytes
verna, Analyst, No. 14.—Yellow Wagtail, SeLBy’s Br. Orn.—MUuDIE’S Feath.
Tribes.—Spring Oatear, Analyst, No. 14.

Tue habits and haunts of this species being totally distinct
from those of the Wagtails, I entirely agree with Cuvier in
the necessity of removing it from that genus, and propose to
designate it the Spring Oatear,* a name by which it is known
in many parts of the country, and than which a more appro-
priate appellation could scarcely be selected.

The Spring Oatear arrives towards the end of March or the
beginning of April, and, though by no means so common as
the Wagtails, is pretty generally distributed over the kingdom,
and can nowhere be said to berare. It appears, however, most
partial to extensive pastures and flat open commons, and seems
to be fond of company, as it generally resorts to those fields
which are well stocked with cows and sheep, and, indeed, I
seldom remember to have met with it in unoccupied pastures,
or in fields even temporarily deserted by the flocks. Thus the
application of Cuvier’s generic name Budytes, or cattle attender,
is sufficiently obvious.

It may, however, well be doubted whether it feeds in com-
pany with the cattle from pure love of them, but rather, I

# I first hinted that this species should be termed the Spring Oatear, but I am
happy to find that my friend S. D. W. (see Analyst, Nos. 13 & 14) has been be-
forehand in the publication of it.

220 THE SPRING OATEAR.

opine, on account of the immense number of flies and other
insects, with which the cows and sheep are incessantly tor-
mented. Thus the cows and the Oatears are of mutual service
to each other; the former furnishing food to their tiny bene-
factors, at the same time that they are eased of their insect
pests ; and the birds are of singular service to the cattle just
in those dry upland districts which are the favourite haunts of
the Oatear, and where, for want of streams or pools of water,
life would otherwise be insupportable to the patient animals.
It is almost a wonder that the Spring Oatear—like many other
birds which actually do good where they are supposed to be
most mischievous—has not been charged with some evil design
against the cow, as it may constantly be observed to run
between her legs, and close to her head, ever and anon picking
up the minute insects which there abound; and it is probably
only its small size and apparent insignificance that has saved
it from such calumnies, to which almost all benefactors are
obnoxious. The Fern Nightjar* (Vociferator melolontha) has
from time immemorial been accused of sucking the milk of
cows and goats, merely for performing by night the same
benefit as our indefatigable Oatear does by day. But then
much is doubtless owing to the suspicious time at which the
Nightjar appears, and to its actually leaping up at the cows’
udders and legs, in order to obtain the insects and larve lodged
in the poor animal’s skin, or preparing to deposit their eggs
there. Ornithologists have long since renounced the idea of »
their sucking the milk of the cows—that being totally im-
possible—as an absurd superstition, but most inconsistently
and unaccountably preserve ‘‘ Goatsucker” and Caprimulgus
as classical names !—I have actually witnessed a gentleman, at
the British Museum, pointing out the innocent Nightjar to his
sons as “ the bird which sucks the milk of cows and goats at

I

night, in summer.” and hence the evil of continuing the terms

*® Fern Nightjar is scarcely exclusive enough to be a good appellation; but at
present I know of no better.

THE SPRING OATEAR. P|

“ Goatsucker” and Caprimulgus. There are doubtless many
persons who, like Mr. SrrickLanp (see Analyst, Vol. II. p.
317—18), would prefer remaining in error all their lives, to
making any change for the better, however slight and easily
effected that change might be; but it is to be hoped, that the
mass of intelligent and wnprejudiced Ornithologists will, ere
long, discard appellations so replete with absurdity and so apt
to deceive. To return, however, to our little Budytes, whom
we left feeding amongst the cattle, in the pasture.

This bird has received the popular designations ‘‘ Oatear’’
and ‘‘ oatseed-bird,” not, as some suppose, on account of its
feeding on oats or any other corn—for it is wholly insectivorous
—but because those extensive upland districts, which it fre-
quents, are more favourable to the growth of oats than to that
of any other kind of grain, and because, moreover, it resorts
to these corn fields on its first arrival in Britain.

Although you must not look for the Spring Oatear near the
margins of running streams—where the Wagtails may in-
variably be met with—as its favourite haunts, yet it enjoys a
bath on a hot summer’s day fully as much as the true Wagtails,
and I have frequently seen it, especially about the time of corn-
harvest, refreshing itself on the brink of a clear pebbly stream,
and afterwards preening its feathers ona clear sunny bank.
A Wagtail would retire, for this purpose, to the topmost sprig
of a tall bush, or the ledge of a house. Thus we find that its
habits differ essentially and entirely from those of the Wagtails:
—it is not so partial to the neighbourhood of water, seldom or
never perches, and its elongated hind claw clearly indicates it
to be a grass bird. It is also considerably shyer and more
difficult of approach, which, in conjunction with the loneliness
of its haunts, accounts for its habits being much Jess known
than those of the Wagtails, to which it is closely allied, though
it forms a distinct and well-marked genus.
~ Even Mupte seems less familiar with this species than with
most other British birds, but his description of it is, as usual,
entirely correct in every particular. It is most active in the

ooo THE SPRING OATEAR.

middle of the day in June and July, and then it is that they are
most busily employed in ridding the cattle of their insect pests.
A little before dusk they are relieved by the Nightjars, who
keep watch almost the whole night; and the cows are evidently
aware of the service, as they never attempt to molest the birds.
The nightly capture of the flies by the Fern Nightjar (vulgarly
«Fern Owl,” ‘‘Goat-sucker,” “Night Hawk,” &c.) is, in
England,* by no means a common sight, but with a little
attention to the haunts of the Spring Oatear, this bird may be
seen at almost any time between March and September. If
you go expecting to see a “ Yellow Wagtail,” it is more
than probable you will be disappointed, as what is termed the
Yellow Wagtail (Spring Oatear) has decidedly more of green
than yellow about it ;—the Motacilla cinerea would be more pro-
perly termed the Yellow Wagtail, and the subject of the present
article, if a Wagtail at all, and if named after its colour, the
Green Wagtail. This, however, might cause confusion—the
Grey Wagtail must, therefore, retain its present appellation,
and Budytes verna receive that which I have here given it.
The Grey Wagtail is a much handsomer bird, both as regards
elegance of shape and brightness of colour, than the species
now under consideration.

I have little doubt but that the correspondent in the Analyst,
Vol. II. p. 426, who signs himself ‘‘ Querist,” has mistaken the
Grey Wagtail for the Spring Oatear—an error into which even
the accurate Wuirte of Selborne fell—the second bird he men-
tions being doubtless the species whose habits I am now de-
tailing. ‘‘ Querist’”’ appears to be little conversant with the
haunts, habits, and general economy of this bird—if he were,
he would never have mistaken it for a Lark, though it doubt-
less indicates a distant affinity to that genus, by its lengthened
hind claw, and by its frequenting ploughed fields and pastures:

# In America nothing is commoner than to see the various members of the
Nightjar family (Vociferatoride) performing this feat ; for an account of which,
see WATERTON’S Wanderings in South America.

THE SPRING OATEAR. 993

in which localities its near neighbours—in systems at least—
seldom or never occur.

Though the Spring Oatear is not a typical Motacilla, yet it
does nevertheless wag its tail; it has not, however, so longa
tail to wag, and altogether shows a decided departure from the
true Wagtails. Almost every one who lives in the country,
and whose thoughts are not too deeply engrossed by the soul-ab-
sorbing desire of amassing wealth to observe Nature, must have
remarked that the tail is not merely moved up and down, but
that it is accompanied by a kind of lateral motion, or at least
that the tail is partially spread at the time of wagging, which
gives it a flirting unsteady appearance.

The Spring Oatear is entirely devoid of musical genius, having
only a sharp shrill note at its command, which it utters chiefly
when in active motion on the ground, or in flying from place
to place.

The nest is formed of moss and bents or dry grass, and lined
with hair. The eggs, from four to six in number, frequently
the iatter, are of a wood brown colour, marked with reddish
brown spots, distributed equally over the whole surface. The
nest is generally situate in an open field, mostly grass fields,
aut sometimes in corn and even peas; if in the first, under the
shelter of a tuft of grass, and, according to Muniz (see his ex-
quisite Feathered Tribes, Vol. I. p. 280), at the root of a tree,
but this I have not hitherto been abie to verify. SELBy says it
has two broods in the year (in this resembling the Grey Wag-
tail), and this I consider very probable, having occasionally
found the nest, with eggs, so late as the end of July, and even
in the beginning of August, in stubble fields. It is possible
that these late broods are compelled to remain with us the
whole year, as individuals are sometimes met with even in
mid-winter. Some of my readers may perhaps be surprised
ti at these late broods should not follow their brethren over the
seas, as soon as they are capable of the exertion; but the in-
stinct which induces them to emigrate, only lasts for about a
fortnight, and the very late broods most likely feel no inclina-

924 THE SPRING OATEAR.

tion to leave the country, by the time that their powers are
fully matured. Indeed it is very probable that half a dozen of
any migratory species of the Warbler family, if turned loose a
month or six weeks after the usual period of their departure,
would make no efforts to quit the country.

This species is more easily preserved in confinement than the
Wagtails, on account of its less aquatic habits. Notwith-
standing, however, that it inhabits higher up than the Wag-
tails, yet it frequently descends to the low grounds, approaches
the margins of streams, and searches for insects along with its
congeners ;* and then it is noticed by the casual observer, but
only as a rare or “curious” bird. It departs in September,
assembling for some time previous in small flocks of fifteen or
twenty, in those localities in which their nests had been con-
structed. It is supposed by some accurate Ornithologists, that
a few remain in the warm downs, through the winter, but itis
more than probable that these are birds of a late brood, which
were not fully fledged when the rest of the species took leave
of our bright and blessed shores.

Description ; Male.—Head and upper parts yellowish olive ;
under parts pale gamboge yellow, lightest at the vent. Wings
dusky black; coverts marked with light yellow. Middle tail
feathers margined with bright yellow ; the two outer feathers
almost entirely white. Tarsi and claws dark wood brown ;
hind claw long and nearly straight. Over the eye is a pale
streak of gamboge yellow.

Female.—Disposition of the colours the same, but more
dusky.

Young.—Dusky oil-green, with very little yellow.

« The word congener is not here to be understood in its literal sense, as the only
other British species of the genus is extremely rare. The species immediately
allied to 1t, the Wagtails, Motacilla, are alluded to.

THE BLUEHEADED OATEAR. 225

BLUEHEADED Oarear, Budytes cyanocephala, N. Woop.

Synonyms.—Motacilla flava,* GMEL. Linn.—TemMM. Man. d’Orn.—Motacilla
verna, Briss. Orn.—Motacilla chrysogastra, BECHST. Naturg. Deut.—Motacilla
neglecta, GouLD’s Birds of Europe.—Gelbe Bachstelze, Mey. Tasch. Deut.—
Geele Kwickstaart, Serp’s Nederl. Vog.—Bergeronnette de printemps, BUFF.
Ois.—GERARD. Tableau Elém.—Bergeronnette printaniere, TEMM. Man. d@’Orn.
—Less. Man. @ Orn.—Cutrettola di primavera, Stor. Ucc.—Grey-headed Oatear,
Analyst, No.15.—Blueheaded Wagtail, JenyNns’s Man. of Br. Vert. Anim.

CoNnsIDERABLE confusion has hitherto existed with regard to
this species, owing partly to the specific name Spring having
been given, in several languages, to this as well as the preced-
ing Oatear. Thus in English we have the “ Spring Wagtail,”’ in

French ‘‘ Bergeronnette printaniére ou de printemps,” in Italian,

‘“‘ Cuttretola di primavera,” &c. The specific designation

“Yellow” has likewise been given to the two birds, as Geele

Kwickstaart, Gelbe Bachstelze, Yellow Wagtail, &c.,and Motacilla

flava has been applied to both species. Now, to obviate this

confusion—having established that the species are perfectly
distinct—I have quoted all the synonyms properly belonging
to the Oatears, for the first time, and propose, moreover,
entirely to abandon the name flava, as calculated to increase
the confusion already existing; and have given to the Spring

Oatear (the Yellow Wagtail of British authors) the name

Budytes verna, and to the Blueheaded Oatear (the Bergeronnette

printaniére, Geele Kwickstaart, and Gelbe Backstelze of the Con-

tinent) Budytes cyanocephala. No one who has seen the two
species, or who glances his eye over the description of the
plumage of the present one, can possibly mistake the two

Oatears. —The following is taken from Jenyns’s Manual,

p. 116 :—

«« Entire length six inches.

““Closely resembling the last species, from which it scarcely

* TEMMINCK is in error when he quotes Motacilla flava of LATHAM, and the
«© Yellow Wagtail’’ of EpwArpDs, as synonyms of this species, those referring of
course to the Budytes verna of this work.

Q

996 THE ROCK PIPIT.

differs excepting in the colour of the head and streak above the
eye: the former, instead of being olivaceous like the rest of
the upper parts, is of a fine lead grey, approaching to blue; the
the latter, as well as a second streak beneath the eyes, is white.
The female has the colours paler, and the eye-streaks in-
distinctly marked. Eggs, ‘greenish olive, with light flesh-
coloured blotches.’ ”’

Genus ANTHUS, Becust. PIPIT.

Rock Pipit, Anthus obscurus, BiytH.

SyNnonyms.—Alauda obscura, LATH. Ind. Orn.—Alauda petrosa, Linn. Trans.—
Anthus rupestris, Nrus. Orn. Swec.—Anthus aquaticus, SELBY’s Br. Orn.—
Anthus petrosus, FLem. Br. Anim.—Dusky Lark, Lew. Br. Birds.—Don. Br.
Birds.—Rock Lark, Mont. Orn. Dict.—Sea Lark, Wauc. Syn.—Rock Pipit,
SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Analyst, No. 14.

I am informed, on the authority of that acute Ornithologist
Mr. Bryru, that the Rock Pipit of Britain is wholly distinct
from the Anthus aquaticus of TEmMMINcK, BrEcHSTEIN, and
other Continental writers, though the two species are doubtless
very closely allied. And, under this impression, I am induced
to omit the names given by foreign Ornithologists to the Anthus
aquaticus, and have designated the British bird, at the sugges-
tion of Mr. Biytu, Anthus obscurus.

As the Rock Pipit does not occur in the midland counties, I
shall, for the second time, have recourse to Montacu’s highly
interesting and accurate Ornithological Dictionary :—

‘* The length of this species is six inches and three quarters ;
weight about seven drams. The bill is dusky, near seven
eighths of an inch long, from the apex to the corner of the
mouth ; irides hazel: upper part of the head, back of the neck,
and tail coverts, are of a dark brown; back and scapulars of
the same colour, obscurely marked with dusky strokes; above
the eye and beneath the ear is a lightish-coloured stroke; the
throat whitish; breast and belly yellowish white, the former
blotched with large dusky spots ; the sides marked with strokes

THE ROCK PIPIT. 227

of the same; under tail coverts light brown; the two middle
feathers of the tail dark brown, the others dusky ; outer one of
a dirty yellow, white on the interior of the web and the point
of the exterior; in the second feather the light colour is just
visible at the end; the quill-feathers and coverts are dusky,
slightly edged with light brown; legs and toes dusky; claws
black ; hind claw four tenths of an inch long, and somewhat
crooked.

“« Both sexes are alike.

“The young birds are not maturely feathered till after the
winter of the first year; till then the upper parts have a tinge
of olivaceous ash-colour ; beneath the lighter parts are yellow-
ish, and the coverts of the wings more deeply margined with
light brown; the base of the under mandible and legs less
dusky.

«© We discovered these birds in great plenty on the coast of
South Wales, where it was known by some of the natives by
the name of Rock Lark; and afterwards found it not uncom-
mon on all the coasts from Kent to the Land’s End in Corn-
wall, where the shores were abrupt; and have no doubt it in-
habits most of the rocky shores throughout the kingdom. It
seems wholly confined to the neighbourhood of the sea, and is
never found, even in winter, more remote than in the conti-
guous marshes within the occasional influx of the tide, depend-
ing chiefly on marine insects for its subsistence, and has never
been observed to be gregarious. '

“‘The song, the manner of flying, and its habits in general
are so like those of the Meadow Pipit, that it is probably owing
to this circumstance it has remained so long in obscurity.

“It begins breeding early in the spring. The nest is made
of dry grass, marine plants, and very little moss externally,
and lined with fine grass, with a few long hairs. This is ge-
nerally placed on the shelf of a rock near the sea; sometimes
at a considerable height, where there are a few scanty bushes
or tufts of grass. It lays four or five eggs, of a dirty white,
sprinkled with numerous specks of brown, darker and confluent

qQ 2

228 THE ROCK PIPIT.

at the larger end, so as to appear on that part wholly of that
colour ; in size they rather exceed those of the Meadow Pipit,
weighing about thirty-six grains.”

From the communications of scientific correspondents in
various parts of the kingdom, I gather that the Rock Pipit is
by no means rare or locally distributed. According to Sexsy,
it occurs plentifully in Northumberland, and I am informed,
by Cuarites Waterton, Esq., of Walton Hall,* that it is
common at Flamborough Head. ‘Towards the close of the
year 1835, Mr. Biyru obtained a live specimen, and on the 21st
of Nov., 1835, that gentleman thus writes to me :—‘‘ My Rock
Pipit is still doing well, and has already become tame, or
rather fearless; but most birds very soon lose their wildness
when placed in a cage containing several tame companions. It
seems likely to live, at least as long as I shall want it, and
when I have become a little more acquainted with its cage
manners, I will send you some account of the habits of my
amusing little prisoner. The Rock Pipit of British and Conti-
nental authors are now determined to be distinct species, and
therefore you had better describe the former under the name
Anthus obscurus, in order that it may no longer be confounded
with the Anthus aquaticus of Becuste1Nn and ‘TEMMINCK.”

* T imagine that most of my readers have met with the highly interesting ac-
count of the park of Walton Hall, by James STuART MENTEATH, Esq. These
who have not, I refer to the Magazine of Natural History, Vol. VIII. p. 28.

THE MEADOW PIFIT. 229

Meapow Pipit, Anthus pratensis, Becust.

\

Bird of the happy, heaven-ward song!

Could but the Poet act thy part,
His soul, up-borne on wings as strong

As thought can give—from earth might start,
And with a far diviner art

Than genius ever can supply,
As thou the ear, might glad the heart,
And bring down music from the sky.*

BERNARD BARTON.

SynonymMs.—Alauda pratensis,t LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Alauda campes-
tris, LATH. Ind. Orn.—Anthus pratensis, Becust. Naturg. Deut.—SELBY’Ss
Br. Orn.—Meadow Pipit, SELBy's Br. Orn.—MUDIE’s Feath. Tribes.

Tue Meadow Pipit is the commonest and most familiar Bri-
tish species of the genus, being met with, equally plentifully,
in the ‘high and dry”’ districts, in extensive and dreary
heathy wastes, and in the more cultivated meadows and low-
lands. It is resident in Britain, and, though a partial migration
takes place in some parts of the country, with the fluctuations
of season and climate—at least so our authorities inform us—
I have met with it, and that abundantly, throughout the year,
in the principal field of my ornithological researches—Derby-
shire and Staffordshire. Perhaps the name Meadow Pipit is
not the most applicable that could be found; for though the
bird is doubtless frequently met with in fields and meadows,
yet bleak and open commons, and hilly or mountainous districts
are its favourite haunts, and are, indeed, the only localities in
which they may be looked for in abundance, and with certainty.
But while I maintain that these are the places in which it is
most commonly found, yet I would by no means pronounce

* The poem from which this stauza is extracted is addressed, in the original,
to the Sky Lark (Alauda arvensis), but it is equally applicable, perhaps, to the
subject of our present memoir, the Meadow Pipit.

+ SELBy has, by mistake, quoted this name from WILLUGHBy and Ray,

230 THE MEADOW PIPIT.

them to be its exclusive haunts, having myself seen it in almost
every variety of situation, from the most hilly and open spots,
to the lowest and most marshy grounds. It is, however, by no
means a bird of the bog, only occurring there once in a way,
and never sojourning long in such damp unwholesome spots,
though it may occasionally ‘ stay dinner.’ It seldom ap-
proaches gardens or houses, and appears to view the progress
of cultivation with an evil eye, although I have found its nest,
in one or two instances, in the immediate vicinity of farm-
houses.

The song of the Meadow Pipit bears some resemblance to
that of the Sky Lark, being rather monotonous. In power,
however, it is greatly inferior to that “ bird of the heaven-ward
song, being scarce audible except when heard close; but the
strains are, In my opinion, somewhat superior in melody to
those of the Sky Lark, though they will not bear a moment's
comparison with the delightfully sweet notes of the Wood Lark.
Probably few will be found to agree with me as to the supe-
riority of the song of this bird over the highly-lauded melody of
the Sky Lark, but I think the reasons given, in the account of
that bird, for this apparently universal opinion, may probably
be considered a satisfactory explanation of the circumstance.
To the common observer, moreover, the Meadow Pipit, from
the nature of its haunts, isa bird little known, and few perhaps
have ever heard its song, except those who devote themselves
exclusively to ornithological pursuits ; or, if noticed, by the tra-
veller pushing his weary way over the bleak and trackless moor,
is mistaken for the Sky Lark. The latter, however, is exclu-
sively a bird of the cultivated lands, and is never met with in
the desolate waste. Such a mistake could not possibly have
been committed by the merest tyro in Ornithology, or by any-
one who had perused such a work as the Feathered Tribes * of

* If there be any one of my readers who possess not a copy of this invaluable
work, I would recommend him to procure it without further delay, as the best
work, describing the habits, haunts, nidification, plumage, &c., of British birds,
in existence.

THE MEADOW PIPIT. 931

the zealous and indefatigable Muniz. I think it would be well
worth-while to cage this species, in consideration of its musical
powers, but, on the other hand, when we reflect how little
calculated it is for the narrow limits of a wire cage, no one with
an active organ of Benevolence would consent to deprive it of
its liberty, merely for the selfish gratification of listening to its
song.

The flight of this bird, like that of the other Pipits, and that
of the Wagtails and Oatears, is interrupted and jerky, and it
seldom remains long on the wing, except when singing, and
then for a considerably shorter period than the Sky Lark. The
Meadow Pipit usually pours forth its melody whilst rising per-
pendicularly in the air, which is performed with a singular
quivering action of the wings. It seldom mounts so high as to
escape observation, but, having attained a reasonable altitude,
begins to think it high time to return from its aerial excursion,
and descends, retracing its steps in a perpendicular line. Now
it is singular, that the song is not commenced until the bird
begins its descent ; or rather, it hovers for a few instants at the
top of its flight, singing all the time, while the Sky Lark offers
its “‘ grateful tribute” in its ascent as well as in descending.
And thus it is impossible for any one who has “ eyes in his
head,” to mistake the two species. In the first part of the de-
scent, the tremulous motion of the wings is still observed, but,
as the bird approaches the ground, it becomes less and less ap-
parent, until it at length ceases altogether, and the wings and
tail are held motionless, in order to receive the breeze and
break the fall ; when about to alight, it flies in a sloping direc-
tion. It usually carols right above the nest, frequently mount-
ing and returning many times during the course of a single
hour. The song is commenced early in the morning, ceases for
the most part at noon, and is again continued towards the cool
of the evening. Ona clear evening, it sometimes sings long
after dusk, though it then mounts to a very inconsiderable
height.

One curious circumstance appears to have been wholly over-

932 THE MEADOW PIPIT.

looked by authors, and that is, that the Meadow Pipit, though
mostly an aérial songster, is not exclusively so. I have many
times known it sing on the ground, ona stone, or, occasionally,
on the top of a low bush. The circumstance is not of very
rare occurrence—at least it is not here, and probably not else-
where—and it is surprising, that it should hitherto have passed
unnoticed. Towards the early part of the season, and again
at the close of it, are the periods at which I have observed it
most frequently, and therefore it may possibly be the first
effort of young birds, yet incapable of ‘‘ gaining the sky ;”’ this,
however, is only conjecture, and therefore of comparatively
little value—but to the fact I invite the attention of the ob-
serving Ornithologist.

The Meadow Pipit is a ground builder, constructing its nest
mostly in meadows or commons, in a thick tuft of grass, amongst
heath, or under the cover of a low stunted bush. Here it
establishes a somewhat loose and untidy piece of architecture,
consisting chiefly of dry grass and other herbage, and lined
with the same substance, but of a finer texture; a few horse-
hairs neatly woven within, completes the whole. The eggs are
of a dark brown, obscurely spotted all over with specks of a
darker hue. The usual number of eggs is five, but I have fre-
quently seen six, and likewise four. According to my expe-
rience, they are little subject to variety, and I am happy to find
my testimony supported, in this instance, by my able oological
friend, Mr. Hewitson.

A grassy open spot, “‘ over the hills, and far away” from
the dwellings of man, is commonly selected as the fittest loca-
lity for incubation, but it may be found elsewhere, if vigilantly
sought after. I have seen it in a field of tares, quite close toa
farm house, in this neighbourhood. Day after day had I witnessed
the aerial excursions of the male, exactly at the same spot each
time, well knowing that there must be a nest somewhere, and for
hours did I search for it with the utmost vigilance, yet could I
never succeed in discovering it, until, happening to stroll by
the suspected locality one evening, I spied the female making

THE MEADOW PIPIT. 933

off from her nest, amongst the tares, with the utmost precipita-
tion. Following her with my eyes, I perceived the herbage
rustling as she passed along, but, though I watched for a consi-
derable time, I could not find that she had recourse to her
wings. And this was doubtless the artful method in which
she had previously escaped me. Having marked the exact
place from which she flew, or rather fluttered, I had now no
difficulty in finding the nest, which was sedulously concealed
amongst the tares, with grass wound round the top of the
nest—an artifice to which many of our smaller ground builders
have recourse, and which had doubtless greatly increased the
difficulty of discovering the spot. It is highly interesting to
watch the cuuning tricks to which birds frequently have re-
course, when they incubate in an unusal locality. There was
nothing remarkable in the construction of the nest itself, which
contained four young birds, very recently ushered into life.

Two or three other instances of its building nearer to houses
and other buildings than is its wont, have fallen under my ob-
servation ; the one in a tuft of grass in a walled garden, and
the other on the out-skirts of a small wood, close to the village
of Scropton. In both these instances, however, the nests were
built in little-frequented spots (the garden being almost de-
serted), and were, however, carefully concealed. I believe 1
should never have discovered either of them, had it not been
that the male was constantly observed, especially in the morn-
ing, hovering aloft in exactly the same place, ascending, as
usual, in perfect silence, but bringing melody along with it in
its descent- The nest situated in the deserted garden was
despoiled of its contents by some four-footed plunderer, and
for days afterwards the unhappy birds were seen about the
place, either perched on the wall, or on the roof of a neigh-
bouring out-house, keeping up a continual and doleful chirp-
ing, the meaning of which could not be mistaken. Nor did
their grief subside—at least their dismal chirping did not—for
above a week, when the inconsolable pair finally quitted the
odious garden.

934 THE MEADOW PIPIT.

It is curious to observe the different degrees in which the va-
rious species of birds are affected by the loss of their nests and
young ; and the feelings even of individuals of the same species
vary considerably. Rob the blithe Chaff Finch, or the gay and
lively Whin Linnet of their progeny, and they fly away from
the spot never to return, seeming to consider the affair by no
means a serious one, but do likewise tothe Brake Nightingale,
Meadow Pipit, the grave and sombre Green Grosbeak, or even
to the pert and noisy House Sparrow, and the result will be
very different. And this variety of character will be found to
depend on the comparative development of the organ of Philo-
progenitiveness. To the same principle, likewise, may be re-
ferred the different degrees of attachment displayed by different
birds to their nestlings, when the latter are caged. Every
farmer’s wife must have remarked the great variety which
prevails amongst the sitting Fowls, and I have no doubt but a
practical Phrenologist might detect the partial deficiency of the
organ of Philoprogenitiveness in the unsteady sitters, and, of
course, a correspondingly full development in the close sitters.
It is by no means a difficult matter to determine some of the
leading characteristics of birds by an examination of the head.
In the Carrier Pigeon the organ of Locality is particularly pro-
minent ; in the Spotted Starling, Caution ; in the dog—which,
by the way, is not a bird!—Adhesiveness, &c. But we must,
~ however reluctantly, tear ourselves from this most interesting
subject, and hasten to the conclusion of the biography of the
Meadow Pipit, with due speed.

Its food alone remains unrevealed. To the meadow then let
us repair, and endeavour to discover the nature of its suste-
nance. Flies appear to form a considerably smaller part of its
daily fare than with the Wagtails and Oatears, and I do not
remember ever to have seen it dart into the air in pursuit of
winged insects, in the manner already related of the above-
mentioned birds. It feeds chiefly on worms, caterpillars, and
various kinds of small slugs, in seeking which it often turns
up small stones on the commons it frequents ; beetles, centi-

THE TREE PIPIT. 935

pedes, and different crustaceous insects, are likewise devoured
with avidity, whenever they are unfortunate enough to fall in
the way of the famished Meadow Pipit, whose hunger—“ the
best of sauces,’ and, I may add, the only good one—more-
over, is greatly sharpened by the cold and bracing wind of the
high grounds and bleak extensive moors which are its favourite
resorts. In winter, they are less at a loss for food, in the
event of severe and long protracted frost, than many birds of
the cultivated and sheltered lowlands, and, probably, a far
smaller proportion of Meadow Pipits fall a prey to either hun-
ger or cold, than our friendly—especially friendly in times of
need—and familiar neighbours, the Hedge Dunnock, Ivy Wren,
Robin Redbreast, Goldcrested Kinglet, and many others, whose
numbers are annually thinned to a considerable extent, by the
unrelenting rigours of our northern winters.

The plumage of the Meadow Pipit becomes far brighter after
the autumnal moult, and hence I would advise collectors to
procure their specimens in the winter months, though it is of
course necessary to have specimens of both stages.

Tree Pipit, Anthus arboreus, Becusrt.

I hear thee again in the early morn,
Like the earth’s own matin lay
When the Lark upsprings from the waving corn,
With blithe carol, away, away !
Miss TWAMLEY’s Poems.

Synonyms.—Alauda trivialis, LINN. Syst.—GMeL. Linn.—LatH. Ind. Orn.—
Alauda minor, GMEL. Linn.—Latu. Ind. Orn.—Anthus arboreus, BECHST.
Naturg. Deut.—SELBy’s Br, Orn.—Tree Pipit, SELBY’s Br. Orn.—MUuDIE’S
Feath. Tribes.

Tue hind claw of the Pipits is more elongated than that of
the Oatears, and the bill, in some of the species, a trifle longer,
indicating, in a beautiful and obvious manner, the gradual
approach of the Wagtails to the Larks, through the agency of

AA a] YM

936 THE TREE PIPIT.

the Oatears and Pipits, which, in British birds, form the inter-
mediate genera, and, consequently, the connecting links. Mr.
Biytu has advised me to remove the Larks entirely from the
Fringillide, and proposes to arrange them in the Sturnide
(Starling family), close to the exotic genus Sturnella. I can,
however, by no means consent, even on the authority of my
talented friend, to tear the Lark genus (Alauda) from its im-
mediate and obvious affinities in its present station, closely
allied on the one hand to the Pipits, on the other to the Long-
spurs, and, through these, to the Buntings. I have, therefore,
preferred adopting the arrangement of SELBy, in the present
instance as well as elsewhere. We must, however, now turn
our attention exclusively to the Tree Pipit.

The Tree Pipit, though occasionally mistaken for the
Meadow Pipit, is easily distinguished from it by a practised
eye, the specific characters being sufficiently obvious. Un-
like the previous species, it is migratory, appearing at the
end of April or the beginning of May, and departing in the
middle of May. It is nowhere so abundant as the Meadow
Pipit, and the haunts of the two species differ considerably ;

‘but it is distributed as equally and widely in Britain as that

bird, and is, I think, nearly as pientiful in my neighbour-
hood, though it is less easily seen, and consequently less
noticed by the careless observer. As the formation of its
hind claw indicates, it is much less of a ground bird than
the preceding species, and more partial to low and culti-
vated districts, mostly frequenting ploughed fields or the out-
skirts of woods. In meadows and pastures it occurs much
more rarely, in heathy commons or barren open wastes never.
In the low and cultivated part of Derbyshire where I reside,
there is a considerable portion of arable land, and the country
is, for the most part, warm and sheltered; and here the Tree
Pipit occurs abundantly, but I am informed, on good autho-
rity, that it is extremely rare towards the Peak, being little met
with in the stone wall country round about Buxton, near the
eleyated and romantic Matlock, and in the picturesque neigh-

THE TREE PIPIT. 237

bourhood of Dovedale. The extensive and dreary moors are
equally unfavourable to it, but, on the whole, it is far from
rare in the midland counties. In the vicinity of Boilston—
which may be termed the aviary of Derbyshire*—it is parti-
cularly plentiful, and it is here chiefly that I have been enabled
to become intimately acquainted with its habits, though I have
also frequent opportunities of observing it in my more imme-
diate neighbourhood.

The Tree Pipit commences its song soon after its arrival,
and, having selected a mate, shortly proceeds to the business
of incubation. The notes bear little or no resemblance to
those of the Meadow Pipit (though Srexzy finds some points of
similarity between them), but are of longer duration, more va-
ried, and perhaps more melodious ; but they have undoubtedly
less character and spirit than the very pleasing strains of the
Meadow Pipit. Unlike the latter, the Tree Pipit frequently
sings on the top of a hedge or young tree, but frequently also
on the wing. This manceuvre is performed in much the same
manner as by the Meadow Pipit, singing only on the descent.
The ascent, however, is not conducted in perfect silence, a kind
of twitter being emitted during its upward course, as if congra-
tulating itself on the progress it was making in its heavenward
journey. Having attained a proper altitude, it flutters a few
moments in the same place, commences its melody, and sets
off on its return for the “dull tame earth.” In descending, the
wings are used less vigorously than in ascending, and at about
half way the wings and tail are held expanded to receive the
wind and break the fall, and the few last feet of its flight are
performed obliquely, as has already been observed in the pre-
ceding article.t The flight—though not the song—of this

* For many a mile round Foston—the common centre of my ornithological
rambles—I know of no place so weil suited to the researches of the field Ornitho-
logist as Boilston, on account of the abundance, both of species and individuals,
of the feathered race. Rolleston and Sapperton are likewise good, but greatly
inferior to Boilston,

+ Of course this can only hold good in cases where the bird does alight on the
ground ; but the aerialjourney frequently terminates on the top of a tree or bush,
and that much more commonly than with the preceding species.

238 THE TREE PIPIT.

bird greatly resembles that of the Meadow Pipit, but is more
regular, and is not broken by those peculiar consecutive
“leaps” so apparent in the upward course of the above-
named species. The song, likewise, is less desultory and in-
terrupted.

The nest consists of dry grass and fibres of roots, with the
addition of moss, which latter article at once distinguishes it
from that of the Meadow Pipit; the lining is the same—fine
dry grass and horse-hair. The structure is placed on the
ground, in a thick tuft of herbage, or sometimes under a low
bush. This is the usual site, and indeed it is seldom met with
elsewhere, though I once had a specimen brought to me, by a
labourer, which was situated on the lowest branch of a small
thick bush. Luckily, the branch on which it rested was cut
off, but I unfortunately left it in an outbuilding, and having
forgotten it at night, never saw it more. My informant said
that he was little versed in such matters, having for many
lustrums discontinued -the bird-nesting line of business, but he
supposed it was the property of a “ Bull Finch!”* After such
an hypothesis, I had truly no difficulty in believing his asser-
tion, that he was little versed in such matters! Frequently,
however, I have found the labouring class to be acute observers
of Nature, and the above ludicrous mistake may well be ex-
cused, when we find (as I have done), that those undefinable
personages who term themselves gentlemen, scarce know a
House Sparrow from a Hedge Dunnock, though they may,
peradventure, have advanced so far in Natural History as to
distinguish a cabbage from a rose!

The Tree Pipit builds much nearer houses than the Meadow
Pipit, and I have, not uncommonly, seen its nest quite close
to a much frequented walk, though well concealed from the
“ public gaze,” by the surrounding herbage. I particularly re-
member to have found one, a few years ago, close beside the

ee
* This name is usually joined (bulfinch), but that only makes the matter worse,

as a generic name once appropriated to one group, can be given to no other ge-
nus, under any combination whatever.

THE TREE PIPIT. 239

walk attached to the new Pump Room, at Leamington, the fe-
male continuing to sit whilst crowds of ladies and gentlemen
were continually passing and repassing. For a considerable
time, I believe I was the only individual acquainted with the
situation of this structure, and probably I should never have
discovered it, had it not been for the indefatigable ardour with
which the male prosecuted his musical labours near the spot.
In the middle of the day the male, as is the case with most of
the smaller singing birds, took his turn on the nest for about an
hour, but he was considerably more coy than his mate. The
moment I stopped opposite the nest, and cast a glance at it, he
was sure to betake himself to his wings with the utmost pre-
cipitation, which was the original cause of my finding the nest.
The female, however, was far more prudent and judeecious, al-
lowing me to make a very near approach to her domicile, and
when she did depart, effecting her escape in the most careful
manner imaginable, creeping silently out of her nest, making
her way through the long grass, and, having arrived at a suit-
able distance from the place, took to her wings, but even then
only skimmed along the surface of the ground, until I lost sight
of her in the distance. In the first instance we perceive mere
Caution, and in the second Caution combined with Secretive-
ness and Philoprogenitiveness. The prudent mother hatched
her young in due season, but, having occasion to quit Lea-
mington for the country a few days afterwards, I never ascer-
tained whether the brood escaped in safety.

The eggs are four or five in number, ash coloured, marked
with brownish purple spots all over. In some specimens the
ground colour is the same as that of the spots, but of course
of a much lighter shade. They are of a handsome shape, but
taper little, and are somewhat larger than those of the Chaff
Finch. The Tree Pipit appears to be jealous of any liberties
that the experimental Ornithologist may happen to take with
its nest; at least I have twice known immediate desertion to
be the result of extracting one or more of the eggs, or of sub-
stituting them for those of another species, even though the

240 THE TREE PIPIT.

eggs inserted bore a considerable resemblance to those ex-
tracted. I intend to renew my researches on this head, at the
earliest opportunity, though I have little hopes of succeeding
with so shy a bird as the Tree Pipit.

All the Pipits are more at their ease on the ground than
when perching, on account of the more or less elongated hind
claw, and they run with ease and celerity on the grass. The
Tree Pipit, however, possesses a shorter and more curved hind
claw than the Meadow Pipit, and, accordingly, it is frequently
observed to perch on trees and bushes, and even on railings
and the ledges of houses, when it approaches the immediate
neighbourhood of these, which does not occur very frequently,
its shy and retired habits leading it to shun, as much as
possible, the dwellings of man. But, whilst it studiously
conceals itself, for the most part, from our notice, yet it in-
habits much nearer our houses than the generality of in-
dividuals residing in the country have any notion of; and, in
these parts at least, I seldom take a walk, in any of the nearest
woods, without meeting with several of them, though the
researches, even of the Naturalist, after this species, must be
carried on as silently as possible. Otherwise, the somewhat
timid objects of your pursuit well know how to elude obser-
vation, flying close to the ground—if in a ploughed field—or,
if in a copse overgrown with underwood, frequently squatting
down until you are passed, as in the following instance, which
happened in the autumn of 1833 :—

Strolling through a thick grove one beautiful evening in
November * with a sporting friend—in search of rare birds,
but not BirDs par excellence—we could scarce meet with a
single creature worth the cost of a charge of powder and shot.
But at length, in tearing our way, to the best of our ability,
through some stubborn and thickly-matted briars, a small bird

* It seems almost contradictory to speak of a fine day in the gloomy and sui-
cidal month of November; but the November of 1835 was a remarkably bright
month, as a meteorological table kept by myself, for some time past, abundantly
testifies. In that year, December appeared to have usurped the place of No-
vember.

THE TREE PIPIT. 24]

started, on our violently cudgelling the perverse bushes. I in-
stantly cocked and fired, and our prey proved to be a fine Tree
Pipit, which had just completed its autumnal moult, and was
in beautiful plumage. Now we had traversed the very spot
where this secretive creature lay at least a dozen times, vio-
lently beating the herbage all the while, and yet it stirred not.
Had it preserved its station but a few moments longer, it had
probably escaped its doom foratime. My friend termed the
bird a Lark, seeing that it had an elongated hind claw—very
well it was not a Sparrow!

Its food consists of worms, insects, grubs, and larve of dif-
ferent kinds, and its prey, which is found entirely in the animal
kingdom, is almost entirely captured on the ground, whilst the
lively little bird is running along the grass, or on the gravel
walks. I have, however, occasionally known it hunt for insects
on the branches of trees, but this does not appear to be a com-
mon occurrence ; and, when resorted to, we perceive none of
that agility and ceaseless activity which so eminently charac-
terize the Tits and the Goldcrested Kinglet, in performing the
same manceuvre. In fact, it then seems but ill at ease, and
probably rather quits its ground hunting from necessity, than
from any other cause.

249 THE TAWNY LAVROCK.

Genus CORYDALLA, Vie. LAVROCK.

Tawny Lavrock, Corydalla fusca, Vie.

I would not merely dream my life away
In fancied rapture, or imagined joy:
Nor that a perfum’d flower, a dew-gemm’d spray,
A murmuring brook, or any prouder toy,
Should, for its own sake, thought or song employ ;
So far alone as Nature’s charms can lead
To thee who fram’d them all, and canst destroy,
Or innocent enjoyment serve to feed ;
Grant me to gaze and love, and thus thy works to read.
BERNARD BARTON.

Synonyms.—Alauda Lusitanica,* LATH. Gen. Hist.—Anthus Richardi, ViErLLoT
in Dict. d’ Hist. Nat.—TemM. Man. @ Orn.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Anthus fuscus,
Analyst, No. 13.—Corydalla Richardi, Vie. in Zool. Journ. No. 7.—Corydalla
fusca, Analyst, No. 14.—Richard’s Pipit, SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Tawny Lavrock,
Analyst, No. 14.

Lirtxe further is known of the Tawny Lavrock, as a British
bird, than that two or three specimens have, at different times,
been shot in this country. One that was killed about fifteen
years since, near London, came into the hands of that excellent
systematic Ornithologist, Dr. Vicors, and is, I believe, now
in the Museum of the Zoological Society. As I cannot, of
course, pretend to know anything of its habits, from my own
observation, I present my readers with SrLBy’s description,
Vol. I. p. 264 :—

“The capture of two or three specimens in the southern
parts of Britain, within the last few years (and subsequent to
the publication of the first edition of this work)+, entitles this
species to be included in the list of our fauna as an occasional

* This synonym is referred to the present species on the authority of SELBz,
though this author writes it Lusitania ; on turning to LATHAw’s last work, I
find Lusitanica.

+ The first edition of SELBY’s Illustrations of British Ornithology appeared in
1825.—N,. W.

THE TAWNY LAVROCK. 243

visitant. In size it is superior to any of the other previously
described species, and appears to connect them more im-
mediately with the Larks, and the genus Megalurus of Hors-
FIELD ; on which account it has, by Mr. Vicors, been made
the type of a genus which he names Corydalla, in his “ Arrange-
ment of the Genera of Birds.” (Zool. Journ. No. 7.)

“Its habits and manners are stated to be similar to those of
the Pipits. It is generally seen upon the ground, where it runs
with great rapidity in pursuit of flies, grasshoppers, and other
insects; and, like the Wagtails and other members of this sub-
family, is in the frequent habit of raising and depressing its
tail, accompanied at the same time by a lateral expansion of
the feathers.

“It is met with in the warmer parts of Western Europe, but
not numerously ; and is supposed to be a native of Northern
Africa. Alauda Lusitana of Latuam, as far as can be judged
from his very brief description, appears referable to this species.”’

The following particulars, from the able pen of Dr. Vicors,
and published in the Zoological Journal, Vol. I. p. 411-12,
will, I am sure, be perused with interest :—

“« Although the above species has been recently described by
M. Vre1Lxot, and admirably figured in the Planches Coloriées, I
am induced to have it represented in the present number of this
journal, as it forms an interesting addition to the Ornithology
of the British Islands. The specimen, from which the accom-
panying figure has been taken, was captured alive some time
since* in the neighbourhood of London, and is now in my col-
lection. It is a young bird, and nearly in the same state of
plumage as the bird figured by M. Temminck (in the Planches
Coloriées) ; the adult bird is distinguished by the greater strength
of the colouring in general, and more particularly of that of
the spots on the breast. The species is at present included in
the genus Anthus; but the intelligent observer will at once
detect a striking deviation from the type of that group, in the

* This was written in 1824.—N. W.
R2

244 THE TAWNY LAVROCK.

length of the legs and the hinder claw. In the former cha-
racter the bird seems to correspond with the Megalurus of Dr.
HorsFIELD, in the latter to approach the true Alauda of
authors. I have laid a more detailed account of this [then]
recent additon to the British Fauna before the Linnean Society,
to which I must refer the reader for further particulars, and a
more enlarged description.”

The representation of the Tawny Lavrock, alluded to by
Vicors in the above quotation, is beautifully and correctly
executed, by that excellent artist, James pE CarLE SowERBy.
It is likewise figured by SeLBy, in his Illustrations of British
Ornithology, plate c. fig. v.—Mup1r makes no mention of. the
bird, in his admirable Feathered Tribes of the British Islands,
probably from his very laudable repugnance to compilation.—
TrEMMINCK acquaints us with its habits and general economy
in his usual cursory manner, and it is much to be regretted that
hitherto no Naturalist has published a satisfactory account of
its manners. That of VrEILLoT, in the Dictionnaire d’ Histoire
Naturelle, article ‘‘ Prpr” is probably the best that has yet
appeared, and to this, accordingly, I now refer my readers, for
amore minute description of the Tawny Lavrock, and to the
Planches Coloriées or Zoological Journal, for coloured figures
of it.

THE SKY LARK. 945

Trise IIJ.—CONIROSTRES, Cvuv.
Fam. IL—FRINGILLIDA, Vie.
Suspram. I.—ALAUDINA.
Genus ALAUDA, Antia. LARK.

Sxy Largs, Alauda arvensis, Linn.

Songster of sky and cloud! to thee
Hath Heaven a joyous lot assign’d;
And thou, to hear those notes of glee,
Would’st seem therein thy bliss to find ;
Thou art the first to leave behind
At day’s return this lower earth,
And soaring as if on wings of wind
To spring whence light and life hath birth.
BERNARD BARTON,

Synonyms.—Alauda vulgaris, WiLL. Orn.—Alauda arvensis, LINN. Syst.—
SELByY’s Br. Orn.—Sky Lark, SELBy’s Br. Orn.—MUDIE’s Feath. Tribes.

Tue Sky Lark is one of the commonest and most familiar
of our British songsters, being plentifully distributed over the
British Islands, even so far northward as the Orkneys, for we
find it included in Low’s useful and excellent Fauna Orcadensis.
It likewise possesses an extensive geographical range in foreign
lands, but at present we shall consider it only as a British
bird. It is resident with us throughout the year, though less
observed in winter than during the breeding season, on account
of its skulking and even hidling habits at that period, and
because, moreover, the highly-lauded song is seldom or never
heard, by ordinary persons, except in the spring and summer
months. In autumn, indeed, after it has charmed us through
the balmy seasons with its vernal melody, it becomes better
known by the epicure, on the table, than as a songster, thou-
sands being caught in nets, or shot, at this time, and sold at a

246 THE SKY LARK.

considerable price in the London markets. By far the greater
number are captured by the London bird-catchers, with ground
nets, and Dunstable has ever been famous for its Larks and
claret, both of which might, in my opinion, well be dispensed
with, as mere superfluities. Indeed we may observe, that the
Lark-eating mania, even at Dunstable, is rapidly on the de-
cline, and as we advance northward, and proceed further and
further from the Lark-loving epicures, the custom is less and
less in vogue, and I am happy to say that—as far as I have
been able to learn—it has no supporters in these parts.

But a practice yet more to be depreciated than the slaughter
of Larks,* is the keeping it in confinement; inasmuch as in the
former far less cruelty is exercised than in the latter. In
merely killing the birds, but a moment’s pain is experienced,
but one would think every one ought to have a decided repug-
nance to feeding on song birds,f though if John Bull, with
his characteristic Firmness,{ is determined stoutly to maintain
his right to feed on Larks, there is no disputing the matter.
But, as regards the poor imprisoned wretches, Benevolence
and Causality ought surely to teach us the impropriety of con-
fining within the limits of a small wire cage the “‘ songster of
sky and cloud!”” As, however, our own selfish gratification is
usually of more weight than reason, and as it leaves the feel-
ings of others out of the question, we shall probably continue
to cage Larks as long as the sun rises in the east, asserting that
the restless fluttering and banging against the top and sides of
the cage, or the still more frequent settled gloom and despon-

* They are called Larks, but very frequently the good people of Dunstable are
treated with Buntings, which they doubtless find equally <‘ good eating ;” though,
were they aware of the circumstance, the supposed Larks would soon begin to
taste rather bitter /

+ In Italy and other southern countries, not only are singing birds, as Brake
Nightingales, Ortolan Buntings, Canaries, and others, eaten, but a separate dish
is likewise made of their ‘ tongues!’ In so sultry a climate as that of Italy, how-
ever, there is some excuse for this custom, as the most delicate food is required
by the inhabitants of such climates; but John Ox, one would think, needs no
such extravagant resources.

+ When these epithets commence with a capital letter, the organs of the brain
are alluded to.

THE SKY LARK. 247

dence, are signs of happiness; and, so long as such absurd ar-
guments suit our purpose, they will not, you may depend upon
it, be abandoned.

In this case, again, | am sorry to observe, that the Dunsta-
ble folks stand pre-eminent as imprisoners of Larks, and more
especially of the species under consideration. In passing
through Dunstable, you will be astonished at the number of
cages hanging up on either side the street, and these, for the
most part, each contain a solitary and miserable Sky Lark.
Every cottager seems to consider it indispensably necessary to
possess a Sky Lark at the door of his tenement, regardless
alike of the fluttering of his unhappy captive, its wretched and
forlorn aspect, and dirty drooping plumage. And these poor
unhappy creatures are kept in the worst manner imaginable.
Rarely do you see a cup large enough for the bird to wash in,
sometimes none at all, or the water is so muddy (from being
left too long in the cage), as to render it almost worse than
nothing. They are fed, for the most part, with bruised hemp-
seed and bread, and a clod of earth is placed at the bottom,
which only serves to remind them of their native haunts. Yet
these birds do sing; but their very song is poured forth as if in
despair, and one can easily imagine them to be reproofs to
their merciless jailors, for their inhuman conduct—and this,
forsooth, is the music these deluded mortals love to hear!
Birds only sing, as Mupie well observes, when they are
merry, but this must be understood to apply more especially.
to the feathered race in their native haunts; for it is impossible
to conceive that the Sky Larks, as above described, can be
merry, or even contented, with their hard lot. What a
wretched sight it is to watch these poor birds banging against
the top of their cage, in a vain and fruitless endeavour to
‘« gain the sky,”” and then falling exhausted on the ground, as
if astonished that any barrier should be opposed to the motions
which their instinct gives them a secret and irresistible impulse
to perform. Even experience cannot teach them that it is im-
possible for them to follow their natural inclination, and, ac-

248 THE SKY LARK.

cordingly, the effort is made to the end of their short lives,
each time with equally little success. .

To caging most of the individuals included in the Warbler
and Finch families, I have no kind of objection, as, with judi-
cious treatment, these may be rendered as happy and lively as
in their wild state, and we see frequent instances of birds,
which had been deprived of their liberty, refusing to escape
from confinement when opportunities have occurred.* This is
especially the case where the cage is airy and commodious, and
where the little captives are on familiar terms with their
keeper; but to confine a Lark within the narrow limits usually
assigned to it, is almost as bad as caging an Eagle. Both are
alike birds of the sky and cloud, and are equally averse to
any restraint that may be placed on their free and buoyant
spirits :—

Once he loved on the sun to gaze,

But now he shuns the dazzling blaze;

His eye is dimmed, and a feebler light

Suits best the captive Eagle’s sight,

Oh! were he free, his glance would dare

The vivid lightning’s fervid glare.
Break, break, the kingly Eagle’s chain,

And give him to the skies again.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

I have seen some Sky Larks in good feather and apparently
tolerably contented, in confinement, but such instances are not
of frequent occurrence, or extraordinary pains had been taken
with the favourite. How absurd it is to bestow such misplaced
care upon a single bird, and all that care often conspiring to
render the unhappy captive doubly wretched, whilst a walk of
half a mile’s extent into the fresh and verdant country, and
there listening to a single Sky Lark, hovering aloft on bold and
fearless wing, would give infinitely more pleasure, than hearing
the feeble and constrained voices of all the Larks in Dunstable.
There is, however, doubtless much in the possessing the Lark,
and the power to call it ‘‘ my own,” to which the “ lords of

* See the article “* CRESTED TiT,” p. 191, note, for a remarkable instance of
this kind.

THE SKY LARK. 249

the Creation”? in general, and the English in particular, are
so partial. Thus it is, that though it would not only be de-
lightful, healthy, and practicable, even in towns, for every one
to take a walk into the country in the course of the day, they
are not satisfied without robbing the hapless songster of its
liberty ; and this—thanks to the humane “ lords of the Crea-
tion !”"—is all the benefit a very large portion of this devoted
race derive from their musical abilities. Dunstable is, appa-
rently, the grand centre of the Lark-keepers, but every town
and village has its Larks. As stated in a previous part of this
volume, I have occasionally offered a cottager a shilling if he
would release his prisoner, but this idea was scouted in a trice,
as quite monstrous and unreasonable ; and as to the feelings of
the bird, those are never dreamt of, being entirely out of the
question. Indeed it was perhaps well that my unheard-of
proposal met with so little success, as it is very doubtful
whether the Larks, after such long and close confinement,
would be fitted for active exertion, in their native haunts. But
perchance the reader may be wearied with this lengthened dis-
quisition, in the consideration of which I may, perhaps, have
been carried beyond due bounds, but the subject is certainly
not without interest. For the present, suffice it to say, that
these poor Sky Larks seldom live long; but little account
1s made of their demise, as nothing is easier than to supply
the loss by a fresh individual, recently imported from the
fields, in its turn to go through its shortlived career, and to die
overwhelmed with lice, and other delectable vermin. Let us
now turn to the far pleasanter occupation of recording its Na-
tural History, leaving to the good Dunstable folks the pleasures
of Lark-keeping, and all its delightful accompaniments.

Even considered as a song bird, I by no means think the
Sky Lark a fit object of the bird-fancier’s fancies, its song ap-
pearing to me harsh and monotonous in the extreme. It
usually springs up from aclod of earth, rises to an immense
altitude, hovers for a considerable time at the portals of heaven,
and then slowly descends, generally in a perpendicular line,

250 ; THE SKY LARK.

but sometimes in a slightly oblique manner, employing the
wings less than in the ascent, leaving them motionless towards
the close of the heavenward journey, expanding the tail, and
at length alighting on the ground in a sloping manner, as with
the Pipits, in order to break the downward impetus which must
necessarily have been acquired in descending from so great a
height. One would imagine that all this was labour enough of
itself; but our aerial chorister makes nothing of it, and, during
the whole of the manceuvre, pours on the ravished earth a con-
tinuous strain of melody, frequently remaining a full hour on
the wing. But, splendid a theme as this doubtless forms for
the Poet, I am far from willing to chime in with the unbounded
and extravagant praise bestowed on the notes, on account of
their supposed melody. If you go into the fields, wholly un-
prejudiced, and devoid of any pleasurable associations (though
I by no means wish to deprive any one of these), I think you
will agree with me in considering them harsh and monotonous.
When heard early ona May morning, the notes have a charm
of which it would then be difficult to divest them, and when
the Sky Lark is caged, the song is still admired, though, per-
haps, more because it is the custom to do so, than from any
intrinsic merit in the melody. If the Sky Lark sang as most
other birds do, from a bush, brake, or tree, the strains would
never have obtained the praises that are now accorded to them,
and Poets would, probably, scarce have heard its name. What
numbers of songsters, whose habits are detailed in this work,
have never had their praises sung by Poets, even though they
may be as common as the present species, and far superior
songsters. Look, for instance, at the Blackcapt and Garden
Fauvets, whose very existence is wholly unknown to by far the
greater number of our sagacious countrymen, simply because
they are hidling songsters, and neither the Poet nor the casual
observer are willing to trouble themselves about songsters which
shun rather than court our notice. The notes of the Sky Lark,
in my opinion, rank very low in the scale, and when divested -
of all associations, they are a wretched concern. Ina closed

THE SKY LARK. 951

room they sound much too loud, and they are heard to little
better advantage when the luckless prisoner is placed outside
the window; because the strains, though tolerable as regards
execution, appear to me wholly devoid of melody.

The reader may, perhaps, suppose that I express so unfa-
vourable an opinion of the song of this highly-lauded aerial
chorister, on account of my aversion to the very prevalent prac-
tice of depriving it of its liberty; but I can assure you I have
told you my real sentiments on the subject, with which I think
any unprejudiced person, hearing the bird in a cage, would
agree.

It is mentioned, in a late number of the Magazine of Natural
History, as a remarkable occurrence, that the Sky Lark should
have been heard to sing, in its wild state, in mid-winter. This
I have found to be by no means a rare circumstance, and have
especially observed it very frequently during the late extremely
mild and open winters. At this period, however, it rises toa
comparatively small altitude, and seldom remains long on the
wing, its spirit being, apparently, then soon exhausted.
Sometimes, also, I have known it sing on the ground, in the
manner of the Meadow Pipit ; but this is mostly the case with
young birds, lately fledged, or in winter. I have likewise ob-
served it early in spring. When the Sky Lark carols on a fine
day in winter, little heed is taken of the strains, and, on such
occasions, I have with surprise witnessed dozens of persons
trudging by, on the adjacent turnpike, without bestowing even
a passing look at our merry songster—a most convincing proof,
to my mind, of the little estimation in which the song, devoid
of all associations, is held. That people admire, or force them-
selves to admire, the notes of caged Sky Larks, is notorious
enough, but that is only because they are Sky Larks, and be-
cause it is the custom to admire their song.

The favourite resorts of this species are rich arable lands,
where it is met with abundantly throughout the year, by those
who take the trouble to search for it. In summer it is almost
impossible to take a walk in the fields, in suitable localities,

952 THE SKY LARK.

without observing it spring from its grassy couch on all sides,
and then nothing is easier than to shoot it, but, the breeding
season over, few birds are more difficult of access, except to
the wary Naturalist or the experienced sportsman. They then
skulk along on the ground, seldom taking to the wing, but run
along before you, and their colour assimilates so closely with
the clods of earth or autumnal herbage, as to render it an ex-
tremely difficult matter for a common eye to distinguish any
living object. With practice, however, one learns to perceive
a Sky Lark on the brown grass, even at a considerable distance,
as easily as the sportsman does a Red Grous (Lagopus Bri-
tannicus) in the brown heather, on the wide and trackless moor.
I believe few people know what becomes of the Sky Larks in
winter, or perhaps they suppose that it leaves the country on
the approach of the inclement seasons, as is the case with
nearly the whole of that very musical family the Sylviade.
They think, at all events, that, because they see it not, it can-
not remain in their neighbourhood. In the north of England,
it is true, it congregates in considerable numbers, and resorts
to the south, or to the sea coast. The reason of this partial
migration is not at present very satisfactorily ascertained, but
the fact is certain. In Derbyshire and Staffordshire, many in-
dividuals quit us at the close of the breeding season, but we are
far from being at any time left Lark-less, or destitute even of
its song, which is certainly not ‘‘ in season ”’ in winter, though
by no means ararity. For some years past I have paid con-
siderable attention to this point, with a view of determining
whether the Sky Lark leaves us entirely at any time; but I
have never yet known an instance of such a desertion, either in
the mildest or the most severe seasons. And, probably, it will be
found that total desertion takes place in no locality, not even
in the most northern parts of Britain, though in some places
but a few individuals may remain. Our ornithological writers
—as far as I have at this moment consulted them on the sub-
ject—appear to pass over this interesting topic in a very cursory
manner.

THE SKY LARK. 953

The nest is constructed of dry grass or other herbage, lined
with the same substance, but of a finer texture. Its most usual
site is amongst corn, but frequently also in flourishing mea-
dows, and even—as I have two or three times seen it—in pea
or bean fields. The very late nests are sometimes built in
stubble fields, and Ionce remember to have found one in a cart
rut, in a path through a field. There are two broods in the
year, but the period at which the first and second nest is made,
varies so much, that it is impossible to determine with accu-
racy the time at which they may be expected. It is not a very
early breeder, the first nest being seldom finished before the end
of May, though some individuals will, of course, breed much
earlier. Like all ground-builders, it fabricates a loose and
artless structure, taking little pains in the weaving of the ma-
terials. The eggs, to the number of four or five, are of a dark
purplish brown, spotted all over with obscure markings of a
deeper hue. If [remember rightly, Se:py mentions the ground
colour as being light green, but I never met with eggs of the
Sky Lark of such a tint.

Were it not for the destructive sickle, no bird would be safer
during incubation than our present songster; for, though the
situation is generally indicated by the unceasing melody of the
male, directly above the spot, yet the idle schoolboy, with all
his daring and cunning, seldom or never ventures to trespass
in ‘‘ Farmer Dobson’s” corn fields. Therefore, if the brood
be lucky enough to escape before the sickle is applied to the
corn, all is safe; but, unfortunately, its nest is but too fre-
quently constructed immediately before the time of corn har-
vest ; in that case it is of course destroyed, and could scarcely
be saved even if the men wished it. As it is, perhaps as great
a proportion of the nests of the Sky Lark fall a sacrifice to
various accidents, as of any other bird; and the circumstance
of its being situate on the ground renders it still raore liable to
accident, from weasels, rats, and other vermin, which prowl
about in the night season, ‘‘ seeking whom they shall devour.”
Probably, also, these animals sometimes plunder the nests in

254 THE SKY LARK.

the day time, when the female leaves the nest at noon. I aave
good reason to believe that the male sometimes takes his turn
on the eggs, but of this I am by no means certain. The males
of nearly all the Turdide, Sylviade, and Fringillide, do occa-
sionally sit in the nest, and that mostly in the middle of the
day, and I think, but am not quite sure, that I have seen the
male of this species on the nest.

The situation of the nest varies little; and indeed the nature
of its haunts admit of but small variety, either in the situation
or materials of the nest. Sometimes, however, I have found it
in bare pastures, under the shelter of a thick tuft of grass, and,
in one instance, amongst some close herbage under a hedge.
Whatever be its locality, it is invariably concealed in a dense
mass of herbage of some kind, and is often very difficult to dis-
cover, though the aerial melody points out whereabouts it is,
sufficiently obviously. When disturbed on the nest, it some-
times takes to the wing, but perhaps as frequently escapes,
like the Tree Pipit, by running along the ground, through the
corn. This is effected with ease and celerity, and often with-
out causing the slightest motion of the corn. In case you are
willing to watch the habits of the bird, at the expense of a little
corn, you may lie down until the return of the female. If well
concealed you will see her cautiously approaching, and, having
discovered, to her perfect satisfaction, that all is safe, she once
more resumes her post on the eggs, but not without ever and
anon casting a furtive glance around, as if fearful of further
evil. This done, she suits the nest, with great care, to her
dimensions, with her legs—or, if you will, tarsi—as you may
have observed in the Common Fowl! or Ring Duck (Anas bos-
chas, LINN.)

Having now seen all that you wish to see, you must creep
off with the utmost circumspection, lest you frighten her, and
cause her to desert. This ] have more than once known to be
the case, where incubation had only continued a few days; a
second alarm, within so short a time, being apparently but ill
relished. Or, if the term of incubation be nearly concluded,

THE SKY LARK. 955

it is probable that desertion would seldom take place, but the
female seldom returns until she is quite satisfied that you are
departed out of what she considers, for the time being, her
domains. If I may be permitted to risk any suppositions on
the facts adduced, I may observe, that the habit which the
Sky Lark, Tree Pipit, and several other ground builders have,
of escaping along the ground when disturbed, has this disad-
vantage, that it is impossible for the birds to ascertain with
certainty, whether or not the intruder has departed: while the
Garden Thrush, Chaff Finch, Whin Linnet, and others, either
remain in the tree, above your head, during the inspection of
their property, or view you at leisure over a garden wall. In
examining the architecture of a Garden Thrush, it is curious to
watch the parent bird running to and fro on an adjacent wall,
mostly out of sight, but every now and then advancing to the
edge and reconnoitring your proceedings. But the ground
builders, even when they do take to their wings, can with dif-
ficulty get a sight of you, after they have alighted on the
ground. Some birds, it is true, hover around you as long as
you remain within sight, but, even then, they can never view
you so leisurely as the tree builders. In general, the Sky Lark
is not easily disturbed on its nest, but, like most other species,
commonly deserts if its tenement be much frequented before
incubation has commenced.

The young are hatched in about a fortnight, but do not quit
the nest until fully fledged. I once visited a nest in an open
field, containing five young Sky Larks quite ripe for flight,
but, on returning three days afterwards, still found them in
the cradle. Like the Ivy Wren and some others, the young
return to the nest at night, long after they have quitted during
the day time; and at this period considerable havoc is made,
amongst both old and young, by rats, weasels, and similar
prowling creatures. Nothing is commoner than to see the
feathers of the Sky Lark—mostly nestling feathers—in stubble
fields and pastures, and sometimes they are carried off to a
neighbouring wood, to be devoured at leisure. This is a very

256 THE SKY LARK.

common habit with the quadrupeds of which I am speaking,
and weasels almost invariably bear off their prey—whether
eggs or birds—to some wood or thicket, even though this may
happen to be at aconsiderable distance from the spot where
the depredation is committed. Water rats usually prowl very
near home, either on the banks of running waters, or in some
reedy marsh; and it is nothing uncommon to see it seize a
duckling by the leg, whilst swimming, drag it under the water,
and bear it off in triumph to its hole, on searching which, I
have more than once found the remnants of bones, fur, fea-
thers, &c., and, amongst a variety of other things, the prima-
ries of the Sky Lark. The water rat seldom makes any attempt
to escape when its nest is undergoing this unceremonious
examination, and is easily killed, whilst lurking at the bottom
of its retreat, by any terrier, ferret, or rat-catcher’s dog. But
to return from this short digression.

The Sky Lark subsists, in summer, on insects, caterpillars,
and worms, especially the latter, to which its haunts are very
favourable, and I have occasionally witnessed it stamping on
the ground, near worm-casts, in order to induce the reptile to
show himself. When the worm has oozed half way out of its
retreat, the bird darts on it with inconceivable rapidity, and
generally draws out the reluctant creature entire, but, if the
prey be very obstinate and selfwilled, it generally gets broken
in two for its pains, and the remaining part is left for the beak
of some future Sky Lark, or, perchance, for the relentless
ploughshare. Such is the delectable life and death of the com-
mon earth-worm !

In mild and open winters, the Sky Lark appears to feed en-
tirely on animal substances, but on the approach of frost, and
especially in the event of a long-protracted one, corn and va-
rious kinds of seed are in request; for this purpose, also, the
farmer’s stacks and yards are put into requisition, and his
plentifully stored domains shortly become the rendez-vous of
all the commoner seed-eating birds in the neighbourhood.
Amongst others, the Sky Lark may be seen by the dozen about

THE SKY LARK. yl f

the farm yards, and though, by reason of its lengthy hind
claw, it is but ill calculated for perching on the ricks, it ma-
nages to glean a pretty plentiful harvest. The worthy farmer
need, however, be in no alarm as to the safety of his super-
abundant stores ; for the Sky Lark is but an occasional visitant
of the barn door, and is of incalculable service, in “ better
times,” in destroying, daily, thousands of little creatures
which, if allowed to remain, would soon work the sore discom-
fiture of the honest grumbling farmer. Depend upon it, our
ethereal chorister would rather be elsewhere than amongst the
corn ricks, and will take care to be only there in times of
trouble.

Mr. Bartow writes to me in the following manner, relative
to this species :—

«© What you say as to the partial migration of the Sky Lark
in Derbyshire, is, according to my limited experience,* per-
fectly applicable to the bird in Cambridgeshire. In spring and
summer it is as abundant as elsewhere, but, about the middle
or end of autumn, I have, for many years past, observed its
numbers to decrease materially, although, as you state to be
the case in your own neighbourhood, the disappearance of the
whole never takes place; and we have always at least a few of
the species in these parts, though—as you observe—its hidling
habits, during winter, may have caused me to suppose it to be
scarcer at that period than it really is. But, at all events, I
have good reason to believe, that a considerable portion of Sky
Larks do disappear in winter; for, although I have not myself
witnessed their migration, I have often observed them assem-
ble in large flocks at the end of autumn, as mentioned by
Srevsy and other authors. I cannot say that 1 ever observed it
to sing in winter, but of course I have no reason whatever to
doubt the accuracy of your statement on this subject. Next
winter I shall pay particular attention to this and the other

€
* My amiable correspondent modestly terms his experience ‘ limited,” but his
letters prove him to be a close and accurate observer of Nature, and an able
Ornithologist, both practical and scientific.—N. W.

8

258 THE SKY LARK.

circumstances, regarding its economy, which you so kindly
suggested, and which I had hitherto but little thought of.”

The above is a reply to some queries I had proposed to my
friend. Much interesting and important matter may be elicited
by questions, and I have always found it the best way with my
ornithological correspondents.

The sexes of this species do not differ, but the young are
darker coloured and more mottled than adults.

It may be well here to mention one of the principal varieties
of this species, commonly known by the name of the Red Lark,
under which denomination it has been either figured or de-
scribed by Larnam, Epwarps, Lewin, Montacu, FLEMING,
and others. These authors state that a few specimens have
been killed in the neighbourhood of London, and a correspon-
dent in the Analyst, No. 12, has seen individuals which he
supposes to have been the Red Lark (Alauda rubra, Auct.); in
the same journal, No. 14, this hypothesis is likewise con-
firmed. But it appears most probable that this supposed spe-
cies is merely an accidental variety of the Sky Lark, and that
the real Red Lark (Alauda Pennsylvanica, Briss.) has never
been met with in this country, being, in fact, an exclusively
Transatlantic species. Neither Se:py nor Mupiz make any
mention of the Red Lark, and it may, therefore, fairly be con-
cluded that it has no right to a place in the British Fauna.
The Rey. L. Jenyns, in his excellent Manual of the British
Vertebrate Animals, includes it, but only as a doubtful species,
and Mr. Bryru positively informs me that it is a mere variety.
All the other Larks mentioned by the older Ornithologists, ex-
cept the Larks and Pipits described in this volume, are either
varieties or different stages of plumage, of the species here
included.

THE WOOD LARK. 959

Woop Lark, Alauda arborea, Linn.

Then fly to the grove where the Wood Larks sing,
Rejoicing once more in their vernal glee.
The spring time is come, the winter is past,
And the Wood Larks’ songs are cheerful once more:
Their sorrows have 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 Zu-Zu.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

Synonyms.—Alauda arborea, LInn. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—SELBY’S Br. Orn.
—Alauda nemorosa, GMEL. Linn.—Alauda cristatella, LATH. Ind. Orn.—
Wood Lark, SELBy’s Br. Orn.—MvpIk’s Feath. Tribes.

Tue Wood Lark is neither so abundantly distributed, nor
so plentiful in the localities in which it does occur, as the
preceding species; but its sweetly melodious strains have
rendered it almost as familiar to the Poet and the ordinary ob-
server, as that bird. Its praises are, however, on account of
its comparatively limited distribution, much less frequently
sung. It is said to abound mostly in the southern and south-
western counties of England, and we are told by Monrtaeu,
in his Ornithological Dictionary, that he has found it most
plentiful in Devonshire. It would appear to be extremely
rare in the north of England, for Se~py informs us, as a
remarkable occurrence, that ‘‘a fine specimen of the Wood
Lark was killed near Twizell, on the 24th of November,
1827.” In Derbyshire and other midland counties, we are,
however, much more happily circumstanced in this respect,
the species being here by no means rare or seldom met
with, though, like most other birds, it seems to be but
little noticed by the Derbyshire gentry. Like the Sky Lark,
it is resident in Britain throughout the year, and is perhaps
most easily observed in winter, on account of the nudity of the
woods and trees at that season. It is at all times a shy species,
and, were it not for the sweet and varied melody of its strains,

s 2

260 THE WOOD LARK.

it would doubtless pass, even amongst practical Ornithologists,
for a much rarer bird than is really the case. As it is, it is
much oftener heard than seen, even in spots where it is most
abundant, and it is no easy matter to become intimately ac-
quainted with its various habits by personal observation; and
books, whether compiled or original, will, in general, add but
little to our knowledge on this head. Muniz has the power
to give us a volume on its economy, or on that of almost any
of the other commoner British birds, but, unfortunately, the
limits of his Feathered Tribes were but ill calculated to permit
him to do justice to his extended and varied abilities.

The song of the Wood Lark is infinitely more to my taste
than the harsh, incoherent, and unmusical—but nevertheless
poetical—strains of the previous species. Its mellifluent notes
are scarcely inferior to those of the Brake Nightingale or Gar-
den Fauvet, in sweetness and richness, though in variety, and
perhaps in execution, it must yield the palm to those unrivalled
choristers. As a song bird it stands, in my estimation, fifth on
the list of our British songsters ; the Brake Nightingale, Gar-
den Fauvet, Blackcapt Fauvet, and Garden Ouzel, and perhaps
these alone, deserving a higher rank. As often as it can be
procured by the bird-fancier, it is zealously imprisoned, and
preserved, in a state intermediate between life and death, either
to amuse its cruel owner with its notes, or to give instructions
in music to its less gifted feathered brethren. ‘The spirit of the
Wood Lark, however, is less exalted and aspiring than that of
its garrulous-tongued congener, and therefore it suffers less
from confinement than that species; but though it cannot ex-
actly be termed a ‘“‘songster of sky and cloud,” yet, as we
shall presently find, it too has its aerial and heavenward ex-
cursions, and, accordingly, we most grossly mistake its nature
in penning it up in a small, dirty, perchless cage, where it may
be seen in many of our towns and villages—though by no
means 50 commonly as the other—either sulking on the ground,
or fluttering its plumage to pieces against the hard unyielding
wires.

THE WooD LARK. 261

By far the greater number of caged Wood Larks that we see
in shops and elsewhere, have been reared from the nest, or by
the easier method of allowing the parents to feed them; thus
they generally become tame, or at least stupid, and we con-
sider them—if we take the trouble of thinking at all about the
matter—contented and happy. But a very slight knowledge
of its natural habits, and a very small exercise of Causality,
would soon destroy such an error. A bird which merely flies
straight forward, hops amongst the branches of trees, and is
but little on the wing, may easily, with good management and
plenty of food, be rendered contented and lively in its impri-
soned state, and not unfrequently refuses its liberty when
offered ; but to enclose a creature, accustomed to soar aloft on
airy pinion, from its earliest days, within the narrow limits
of a wire cage, betrays either a most profound ignorance of
Nature, or, which is worse, but a very small share of Benevo-
lence. Animals are as impatient of slavery as Man, but, if the
lord of the creation can but be free himself, he appears, in ge-
neral to care but little about what he proudly deems his infe-
riors. Let him, however, consider, that though the brute
creation is inferior to us in reasoning powers, yet that it is at
least equal to him in the acuteness of what are termed the
Animal Sentiments. Nothing can argue worse of the use which
man frequently makes of his reflective faculties, and of what
are vulgarly called his “‘ better feelings,” than his ill treatment
of the inferior animals ; it would indeed be well for him if the
cruelty he so unfeelingly and unthinkingly practises upon them,
were occasionally exercised upon himself. Thus the man who,
without a cause, beats his horse, might, as a lesson, be doomed
to the same drudgery as his useful inoffensive beast; and the
bird-fancier might be shut up in an apartment which would but
just contain him, and be fed, by his admiring keeper, on tallow
and grease. If he should happen to show any uneasiness or
desire to escape, from his Lark’s cage, that might, and with
justice, be regarded as an indubitable sign of the high estima-
tion in which he held his eligible situation! But, even then,

262 THE WOOD LARK.

he might not be cured of his evil propensities. He might,
indeed, during his confinement, show signs of amendment,
but, having himself escaped, again resume his former practices.
Such are a few of the inhumanities which creep into human
nature. But it is probably about as useless to endeavour to
prove, to that nondescript race of beings, bird-fanciers, the folly
of the custom of which we have been speaking, as to explain
to a Derbyshire peasant the advantage of ploughing with two
horses instead of with four,* and therefore we will now pass
on to consider the nidification of our sweet chorister.

The materials of the nest differ little from those employed
by the Sky Lark, namely, dry grass, stalks of various plants,
and especially hay and straw, though of the latter only a small
proportion. The structure and its composition vary somewhat
with its locality, and this is more liable to change than we
found to be the case with the preceding species; the architec-
ture also displays alittle more art, though, from its usual situa-
tion, it would neither be expected nor required to be so firm
as that of a tree builder. The nest is always built on the
ground, and, like that of its congener, is commonly found in a
thick tuft of herbage, or under a low bush. It seldom occurs
very near houses, and is not met with, like that of the Tree
Pipit, amongst long grass in woods and copses, but more
commonly in pastures on the outskirts of woods, or in groves
where the ground-herbage is not luxuriant, but rises here and
there into tufts and patches; in these—in districts where the
species is plentiful—you may confidently search for its grassy
couch, though I would by no means say that every one of them
contains a nest.

I have already observed that the Wood Lark is tolerably

* Some years ago it was the invariable custom of the Derbyshire farmers to
plough, both on light and heavy land, with a string of four or five horses. About
eight years ago, however, an enlightened bailiff, who came to reside near here
insisted on employing two horses, abreast. The ploughmen for a long time
refused to comply; but the bailiff persisting, it has now become uliversal amongst
the neighbouring farmers to plough with two horses abreast—such is the force of

example.

THE WOOD LARK. 263

abundant in my neighbourhood, and its nest is, consequently,
a familiar object to me, both the bird and its architecture having
occupied a considerable portion of my attention for several years
past. I once, and only once, remember to have found the nest
on the stump of an aged oak tree, which had but recently felt
the stroke of the woodman’s axe. It was constructed in a
slight cavity, excavated by time, and the spot, as is usual in
such cases, was duly concealed by grass and other herbage.
The fallen monarch of the forest lay, in fact, in some tall grass,
close by a hedge, near the road side, but in a field. Notwithstand-
ing that the nest and eggs (the latter were then two in number),
exactly resembled ordinary specimens in every particular, yet,
from the situation of the nest, | was utterly at aloss to conceive
to what species it appertained, and I never for a moment dreamt
that it could belong to the present species. To determine this
point to my entire satisfaction, I left orders with an intelligent
man in the neighbourhood, to capture the female at night, and
then make off with the nest and eggs. On returning next
day, I found that my instructions had been punctually attended
to, and discovered, to my inexpressible surprise, that the
dubious structure was, or had been, the property of a Wood
Lark. As the nest had nothing remarkable about it, either in
shape or composition, except that it was somewhat more com-
pact than usual, and as I could not well introduce the fallen
oak tree into my museum, I did not preserve the specimen,
though, from the singularity of the locality, I think it well
deserved it.

Other instances of the Wood Lark’s building in remarkable
spots have, at different times, fallen under my notice. Of
these, it may not be amiss to mention a few :—

At the bottom of the lawn, before my residence, in passing a
low sheep-shed, my attention was arrested by what I conceived
to be a bird of some kind, lying dead near the railings. On
approaching the object, the dead bird made off through the long
grass, and then flew away to aconsiderable distance! I im-
mediately knew, both by the flight of the bird, and by the

264 THE WOOD LARK.

appearance of the nest and eggs, that the creature, which had
just risen from the dead, was neither more nor less than a
Wood Lark. The spot was tolerably well concealed by the
surrounding herbage, excepting on one side, which proved to
be the entrance ;* and the bird was rendered doubly conspicuous
by the contrast between her light straw-colcured plumage, and
the bright fresh green of the grass. I will trouble my readers
with the recital of another of the deviations I have observed :—

A second nest, discovered soon after the above-mentioned
specimen, was in a somewhat similar situation, namely, almost
close under a dead fence in Sudbury park. It was built on a
mossy bank, in the usual tuft of grass, and contained a small
proportion of moss—the only instance of such a circumstance,
which has ever come to my notice. It was near a spot where
the woodman’s destructive axe was unceasingly heard, and the
labourers had constant occasion to pass quite close to the site
of the nest; and yet I observed that she never quitted her
charge on such occasions. This confidence was, however, but
ill requited, for I one day found, much to my regret, that the
nest had disappeared; and, on making inquiries, learned that
it had been robbed by one of the labourer’s children, who had
certainly far better have been under the care of the village dema-
gogue, even though it had been to learn the Greek verb! The
eggs, five in number, had been hatched three days previous to
this occurrence.

The eggs, four or five in number, are pale yellowish brown,
spotted, or rather blotched, more or less all over, with dark
grey patches, sometimes inclining to sepia, and I have seen
specimens of a light straw colour, wholly destitute of markings
of any kind. Of these there were five in the nest, and I regret
that they were so nearly ready to hatch, as to render it utterly

——— =

* Ground-builders usually form their nests in a tuft of grass; but an entrance
is, for the most part, left on the most sheltered side; but in some cases, the
female opens and shuts the door, so to speak, at her pleasure, weaving the stalks
about her when she enters the nest, and removing them when she is about to
depart.

THE WOOD LARK. 265

impossible to blow them. One upon which I attempted to
operate, is, however, still in my possession, though the con-
tents, having long since become rotten, the surface of the egg
is so discoloured, as to be of little further value. Mr. Hewirt-
son has not yet figured the egg in his British Oology, and the
coloured representation, from the pencil of our worthy coun-
tryman Lewin, will convey but a poor idea of it. At least in
my copy the figure is a wretched one, but, I regret to say, that
in almost all works with coloured plates, the different copies
vary so much, as to prevent the possibility of judging of the
merit of the figures in general, or of any one in particular,
without seeing a great number of copies. Thus many persons
have expressed great surprise at the manner in which the Birds
of Britain is noticed in the Ornithologist’s Text-book: but I
certainly never saw, nor desire to see, a more accurate and
lovely figure than that given by Lewin of the Blue Tit, and
several others which might be mentioned. None of AupuBoNn’s
showy plates in any way come up to it, and I cannot think
that it is surpassed—though it may be equalled—by a single
figure in GouLp’s magnificent and unrivalled Birds of Europe—
a work which cannot fail to place its talented and amiable au-
thor at least on a par with the ornithological painters of this
or any other country. But enough of this for the present. Let
us now look.a little further into the habits of our woodland
chorister.

I had previously omitted to remark the curious mode of flight
observed in the present species. The Sky Lark, as must be fa-
miliar to almost every one, ascends perpendicularly, or nearly
so, into the air, whilst ‘‘ hymning its Creator’s praises ;”” but
the Wood Lark adopts a totally different course. The latter
proceeds, indeed, a short way in a nearly straight line, but as
it gets further and further on its journey, it prosecutes its
heavenward mission in a spiral manner, gradually enlarging its
circles as it ascends. When arrived at its extreme altitude, it
either continues flying in circles at the same height, or flutters
on one spot for some time, in the manner of the Sky Lark, and

266 THE WOOD LARK.

then slowly descends, still describing large circles, as before.
From what I have observed, I-do not think that it generally
remains near so long on the wing as the preceding species,
though Se.sy informs us that it often continues in the air for
an hour together, and thus we have undoubted authority for
believing, that, at least sometimes, it sings for a considerable
period at a time.

The Wood Lark usually springs into the air from the ground,
either from a clod of earth or from a low bush, and it frequently
pours forth its sweet melody whilst perched on a tree, and that
much more commonly than is mentioned by authors. The tree
usually selected is a large isolated elm or oak, situate in the
midst of a ploughed field, but I have likewise known it sing in
the midst of a thick grove. Sometimes, too, it rises into the
air from the top of alow tree growing out of a hedge, bordering
ona small copse, and I have even observed it hawking for flies
in the manner of the Spotted Flycatcher, though this is far
from a common occurrence.

This species may be observed with equal advantage at every
time of the year, and it becomes particularly lively and inter-
esting in winter, when it is sometimes hard put to it for sus-
tenance, though I have not been able to find that any mortality
prevails amongst the species at that season, as we found to be
the case with some of our other resident birds. During the
spring and summer months, it partakes equally of ground and
woodland habits, but it is in the inclement seasons that the
propriety of the name Wood Lark becomes most obvious. At
that period it mostly leaves the fields, and repairs to the low
and sheltered—but not marshy—grounds, abounding either
with isolated trees, or interspersed with thick continuous woods
and groves. But, whilst it courts the shelter of the trees, it
still retains much of its former ground habits, and may con-
stantly be observed seeking its food under the bushes. Indeed
its feet are little formed for hopping amongst the branches, or
for active entomological researches in the interstices of the
bark ; accordingly, by far the greater portion of its sustenance

THE WOOD LARK. 267

is procured on the ground. Though I never heard this bird
make any attempt at a song in winter—reserving this for fairer
times—yet it frequently practises its circular evolutions amongst
the bare and whistling branches, flying round and round, in
the same space, for half an hour together, as if for mere
amusement, or for the sake of keeping itself warm.

At the approach of severe weather they assemble in small
flocks, and haunt the outskirts of woods, but the species
always remains distinct, and they never congregate in great
numbers. During the cold weather they keep very close, but a
gleam of sunshine, even in midwinter, disperses the band in all
directions, and the individuals may then be met with separate
or in pairs, on the high grounds, and in the arable lands ; but
no cold, however intense, ever induces them to resort to the
immediate neighbourhood of houses, though the bird is by no
means shy, or alarmed at the sight of man, nor are its habits
of so crouching and hidling a nature as those of the Sky Lark
at that time. No sooner, however, does the relentless frost,
with all its attendant evils, again make its appearance, than
the scattered forces immediately assemble, as if by common
consent, at a well-known rendez-vous, and the troop is again
seen diligently scouring the ground beneath the trees, and fo-
raging in a compact and apparently indissoluble body.

But the first mild day in March again disperses the forces,
and each male, having selected itself a mate, resorts to some
favorite spot, where the pair resides—if no evil befals them—
for the season. Indeed the Wood Lark never materially shifts
its quarters at any period. In breeding time, the same pair is
observed throughout the spring and summer, and in autumn
the flocks are only formed of the inhabitants of the immediate
neighbourhood. At least this is the case in the midland coun-
ties, where the bird is tolerably abundant, though it probably
does not hold good in localities less favourable to, and conse-
quently less favoured by, the species. Inthe north of England,
or at least in those parts of the north where it occurs at all,
these small flocks are probably collected from distant parts.

268 THE WOOD LARK.

But the Wood Lark only remains congregated while it is abso-
lutely necessary, and, considered as a British bird, it is far
from being gregariously disposed. We are informed that it
occurs in many parts of the Continent, and that it is migratory
in Russia and other northern countries, but I cannot ascertain,
from the extremely meagre acocunt given by TemMINcK, whe-
ther it is gregarious, though he mentions that it is migratory in
the north of Europe. According to BrecustrEein, however,
they assemble in flocks of ten or twelve, at the close of the
breeding season, in which, therefore, it precisely resembles the
habits of the species in this country. Soon after the dissolu-
tion of these little winter bands, the males commence their
song, which generally takes place in the early part of March.
SELBY says soon after Christmas ; but this I never found, and
consider it extremely improbable, especially as it would seem
that SELBy enjoys but few opportunities of observing its habits
in his northern station. This talented Ornithologist is accu-
rate wherever he has had opportunities of observing for him-
self, and of course he is not answerable for the opinions and
remarks of others, on which, like myself (in the rarer species),
he has frequently been compelled to rely. But Srersy is no
compiler, though he has received the title, from an individual
who ought to have known better. See the third volume of
TEemMinckK’s Manel d’ Ornithologie, where the Illustrations of
British Ornithology, is, strangely enough, termed “‘ une com-
pilation fort bien faite!’? Sxxsy is at least as original an ob-
server as the worthy Dutchman—both are equally good in
their way ; TEMMINCK is a systematist, and a compiler as re-
gards habits, and SeLsy equally at home in all departments.
The Wood Lark is more exclusively insectivorous than the
Sky Lark, and subsists throughout the year on insects, their
larve, and worms, which it seeks either in high arable lands,
or in the sheltered woods, according as the season and climate
vary. It has already been observed, that the prey is oc-
casionally taken in the air, darting either from the ground or
from the top of a low bush ; but the usual method is to search

THE WOOD LARK. 269

for it on the ground, which, like the preceding species, and
indeed like the Larks in general, it effects while walking or
running along the ground,—in the breeding season amongst
the fields, but in winter in more sheltered spots. And though
it has not the activity and the graceful motions of the Wagtails,
its manners are by no means inelegant. It is less a bird of
cultivation than the Sky Lark, and appears to prefer an
intermediate station, between the stony heathy moor, and the
rich, arable lands, rather inclining, however, to the latter than
the former.

But although it is insectivorous as long as it is possible for
it to be so, yet in the event of severe frost, it has little ob-
jection to vegetable food, and is, in fact sometimes obliged to
subsist on it for a considerable period, especially when the
snow lies deep and long on the ground ; then the seeds of such
grasses as are procurable, come into requisition, and now it is,
chiefly, that we may confidently search for the species in small
woods and plantations; I have also even known it take shelter,
on the sudden approach of a storm, in a thicket of firs. This
happened towards the close of December 1835, the Wood
Larks and myself taking shelter in the same wood. The storm
being, however, of short duration, and followed immediately
by a gleam of sunshine (such as it is at that period), the birds,
to the number of about twenty, instantly sallied forth, as if
desirous of proving that their concealing themselves there was
a matter of necessity, not of choice. I think I may safely
assert, that this was the most numerous flock of Wood Larks
I ever beheld.

In winters so extraordinarily mild as those we have, for some
years past, experienced in England, there is little necessity for
resorting to vegetable food, but in winters such as they used to
be, the ‘‘ case is altered,” and the Wood Lark not unfrequently
joins the rabble of House Sparrows in the farm and stable
yards, in the search for grain, “ grains,” or anything of the
kind that is within reach. But I have reason to believe that
this species does less damage than even the Sky Lark, and my

270 THE WOOD LARK.

Cambridge correspondent, H. Bartow, Esq., informs me, that
its visits to his farm yards are, in his neighbourhood, ‘‘ few
and far between.” In these parts, I remember but a single
instance of the circumstance, during a continuous frost in 1831,
when several individuals were shot in a single day, both at
Foston and elsewhere. Dr. Liverpoot says he has opened
several Wood Larks that were shot on his farm, and found very
little corn in their crops. It had been recently swallowed,
and had evidently been bruised before it had been devoured.
From this Dr. L. very justly concludes, that it would willingly
abstain from such food altogether, were it possible, and that
corn is only resorted to from sheer necessity. And my obser-
vations have hitherto supported this supposition. Examine
the crop of a House Sparrow, a Corn Bunting, or a Yellow
Bunting, at the same period, and you will find it as full of
corn as it can well hold. Indeed, supposing the Larks to be
extremely partial to grain, their feet are but ill calculated for
assisting them to procure it by holding to the sides of the ricks,
as the typical perchers do with the greatest ease. Consequently,
the Wood Lark is as beneficial to man as any of the Warbler
family, and much more so than many of them, as it feeds on
nothing that can be of any service tous. Its labours, never-
theless, go unheeded by the dull plodding farmer, and are ap-
preciated only by the observing and intelligent Ornithologist,
though he has, perhaps, little immediate or personal interest in
the matter, as far as regards the ‘‘ crops.”

Upon the whole, few of our songsters, whether resident or
migratory, possess more varied, pleasing and interesting habits
than the gay Wood Lark; it is surpassed by none in the bene-
fits it unceasingly confers on the produce of our fields, and I
always feel peculiar delight in watching its manners, either
soaring aloft in extensive circles, trotting along the ground, or
whizzing past me strolling solitary in the cold and leafless
woods. It is ever active, ever busy, and appears, from its un-
ceasing assiduity, never to be at a loss for wherewith to satisfy
the cravings of hunger. Such do we behold it in Nature, and

THE SHORE LARK. ot

in the perfect enjoyment of one of the greatest blessings of life
—liberty ; but no sooner is it deprived of this, and doomed, by
its merciless captor, to end its days in prison, than its happi-
ness and its liberty are alike irretrievable, and it pines away
for a few short months, a picture of misery, until death kindly
relieves it from its wretched situation. It sometimes essays a
song, but it is laboured and of short duration.

Mr Buiyru informs me that ‘‘ Wood Larks never breed in
the neighbourhood of Tooting in Surrey, but are found there
occasionally in small flocks during the winter.”’

The sexes resemble each other, and are scarcely distinguish-
able, but the young birds are darker and more mottled than
adults.

The Larks are dusters as well as washers, and may frequently
be seen rolling in the middle of the road, on a hot summer’s
day.

Saore Lark, Alauda Alpestris, Linn.

Synonyms.—Alauda Alpestris, Linn. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—WILS. Amer. Orn.
—TeEmMmM. Man. d’Orn.—Alauda flava, GMEL. Linn.—Alauda cornuta, Sw. &
Ricw. North. Zool.—Shore Lark, PENN. Arct. Zool.—LATH. Syn.—EYTON’S
History of the Rarer Br. Birds.—N. Woov’s Orn. Text-book.

As the Shore Lark is only known in Britain as a mere
straggler, my account of it will be extracted from various au-
thentic sources, given, as usual, in the words of the different
writers. In the first number of Mr. Eyron’s useful History of
the Rarer British Birds, we find the following description of the
Shore Lark :—

*“‘ The title of this bird to be admitted into our indigenous
lists, rests upon a notice by Witt1am YARRELL, Esq. (which
will be found in the fourth volume of Loupon’s Magazine of
Natural History, page 116), of a specimen, killed on the beach
near Sherringham, in March, 1830, which passed into the
hands of Mr. Sims, of Norwich, by whom it was preserved;
and it is now in the collection of E>warp Lomse, Esq., of
Great Milton.

272 THE SHORE LARK.

“« This bird inhabits the northern parts of Europe, Asia, and
America. An account of it is given in Pennant’s Arctic
Zoology ; in the Fauna Boreali Americana, by Messrs. Ricu-
ARDSON and Swainson, under the name of Alauda cornuta ;
and in Witson’s American Ornithology. It breeds far north,
and is found in the United States, during the winter, in con-
siderable abundance.

Of the habits of this bird, W1ILson says :—

«This is the most beautiful of its genus, at least in this
part of the world. It is one of our winter birds of passage,
arriving from the north in the fall; usually staying with us
the whole winter, frequenting sandy plains and open downs,
and is numerous in the southern States, as far as Georgia,
during that season. They fly high, in loose scattered flocks ;
and at these times have a single cry, almost exactly like the
Sky Lark of Britain. They are very numerous in many tracts
of New Jersey; and are frequently brought to Philadelphia
market. They are then generally very fat, and are considered
excellent eating. Their food seems principally to consist of
small round compressed black seeds, buckwheat, oats, &c.,
with a large proportion of gravel. On the flat commons,
within the boundaries of the city of Philadelphia, flocks of
them are regularly seen during the whole winter. In the
stomach of these, I have found, in numerous instances,
quantities of the eggs or larve of certain insects, mixed with a
kind of slimy earth. About the middle of March they generally
disappear, on their route to the north. Forster informs us,
that they visit the environs of Albany fort, in the beginning of
May ; but go further north to breed; that they feed on grass
seeds, and buds of the sprig birch, and run into small holes,
keeping close to the ground; from whence the natives call
them chi-chuppi-sue. The same species appears also to be
found in Poland, Russia, and Siberia, in winter, from whence
they also retire farther north on the approach of spring;

except in the north-east parts, and near the high mountains.
¢ * = * = ¥ = =

THE SHORE LARK. 273

“There is a singular appearance in this bird, which I have
never seen taken notice of by former writers, viz. certain long
black feathers, which extend, by equal distances, beyond each
other, above the eyebrow; these are longer, more pointed, and
of a different texture from the rest around them ; and the bird
possesses the power of erecting them, so as to appear as if
horned, like some of the Owl family. Having kept one of
these birds alive for some time, I was much amused at this
odd appearance, and think it might furnish a very suitable
specific appellation, viz. Alawda cornuta, or Horned Lark.*
These horns become scarcely perceivable after the bird is dead.”
And this is, doubtless, the reason of the circumstance having
escaped the notice of other Ornithologists. ‘‘ The head is
slightly crested.

“« Shore Lark and Sky Lark are names by which this species
is usually known in different parts of the Union. They are
said to sing well, mounting in the air, in the manner of the
song [or rather Sky] Lark of Europe; but this is only in those
countries where they breed. I have never heard of their nests
being found within the territory of the United States.”

I am convinced that my friend BryrH is wrong when he
says, in aletter dated Aug. 11, 1835,—‘‘ Alauda Pennsylvanica
is now better known by the appellation A. Alpestris, and has
two or three times occurred in this country. I know a bird-
catcher who once took one.”” A. Pennsylvanica appears to me
to be an exclusively Transatlantic species, though it is sup-
posed to have been met with two or three times in Britain—
especially near London—and was termed by the older British
Ornithologists the Red Lark, whose history I have already
presented to my readers, at p. 258 of this work; it is, there-
fore, unnecessary to repeat it here.

Another correspondent has written to me as follows :—

« The names above proposed, both Latin and English, are, no doubt, prefer-
able to the present appellations, but the change is not worth making, and would
probably cause confusion, besides destroying all claims of priority, which must
ever be an important consideration.—N. W.

Ab

274 THE SHORE LARK.

“ Another species, Alauda rupestris, a very thick-billed bird,
has once occurred in Lincolnshire, and will, I believe, be men-
tioned in Mr. Jenyns’s forthcoming Manual of British Verte-
brate Animals.” But as JEnyns takes no notice of the species,
and as I have never heard further particulars of it from other
quarters, I am unable to give any account of it, and shall con-
clude this article with the specific characters of the Shore
Lark, translated from Temmincx’s Manuel d’ Ornithologie,
Vol. I. p. 279 :—

‘* Male.—Throat, eyelids, and space behind the eyes, clear
yellow ; streak above the eyes, whiskers, and a large patch at
the top of the breast, deep black; upper parts, wings, and
sides of the breast, reddish ash colour ; tail feathers blackish,
those in the middle margined with white; outer tail feathers
deep black, bordered with white on the exterior; lower parts
of the breast and flanks reddish white; belly and vent pure
white; bill and feet black. Length, six inches and ten
lines.

“* The Female has the forehead yellowish ; head black and
brown; the black varied with fine yellowish streaks; patch on
the breast smaller, and the black tail feathers margined with a
narrow whitish border.

** It varies according to age, the black of the whiskers and
patch on the neck being more or less decided; the yellow of
the eyelids and breast more or less bright, and the outer tail
feathers of more or less intensity.”

Of the habits of the Shore Lark, it would doubtless have
been possible to have gleaned a longer and more minute de-
scription, from some of the continental writers, but I conceive
it to be unnecessary to offer my readers very detailed accounts
of the economy of birds of which so little is known, or likely to
be known, in this country, it being, as stated in the Preface,
my aim to give, as much as possible, the result of my own ob-
servations, and not those of others.

I may observe, that, in many parts of the country, the Rock
Pipit, Authus obscurus, is termed the “Shore Lark.” This

THE SNOWY LONGSPUR. 275

circumstance is, however, little calculated to mislead, there
being no kind of similarity between the species. But it has
been, until lately, the custom to cal] almost every bird with a
long hind claw, a Lark, and still is the custom with the vulgar,
throughout the kingdom. Butauthors row invariably restrict
“Lark” to Alauda, and very properly award ‘‘ Pipit” to the
genus Anthus of BEcHSTEIN.

Genus PLECTROPHANES, Mey. LONGSPUR.

Snowy Lonespur, Plectrophanes nivalis, Mey.

O from the sounding summits of the north,
The Dofrine Hills, thro’ Scandinavia roll’d
To farthest Lapland and the frozen main ;
From lofty Caucasus, far seen by those
Who in the Caspian and black Euxine toil;
From cold Riphean Rocks, which the wild Russ
Believes the stony girdle of the world.
THOMSON.—Autumn.

_

Synonyus.—Emberizanivalis, LInNn. Syst—LAtTnH. Ind. Orn.—Emberiza glacialis,
Latu. Ind. Orn.—Emberiza mustelina,—GMEL. Linn.—Emberiza montana,
GMEL. Linn.—LatH. Ind. Orn.—Plectrophanes nivalis, Sw. & RicH. Fauna
Amer. Boreal.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Snow Bunting, SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Tawny
Bunting, Mont. Orn. Dict.—Mountain Bunting, LATH. Syn.—MonT. Orn.
Dict.—Snowy Longspur, Analyst, No. 14.—NEVILLE Woop’s Orn. Tezt-book.
Tue extraordinary number of synonyms which attach them-

selves to this bird, are owing to the species having been divided

into three, by every writer previous to TeEmmincK, who had
the honour of first setting the matter in its proper light, though
it would seem that Sexy perceived the true state of the case,
before he had met with the opinions of the Dutch professor, on
the subject. It has now been long satisfactorily determined,
that the “‘ Mountain Bunting,” “‘ Tawny Bunting,” and “‘Snow

Bunting,” are synonymous. As I never met with this species

in my ornithological rambles, I am induced to present my

readers with Mupie’s article “Snow Buntine,” with which
n-2

276 THE SNOWY LONGSPUR.

liberty I hope that able writer and acute observer will not be
offended :—

““The Snow Bunting, ‘ snow-bird,’ ‘ snow-flake,’ and many
other names by which it has been called, has been a sad
stumbling-block in the path of those who do not combine a
little knowledge of the principles of Ornithology with the mere
observation of individual birds. It has got various trivial
names expressive of differences of colour, and specifically it has
been called a Lark and also a Finch.

‘Now the fact is, that it is a polar bird, inhabiting the
arctic zone in both continents, and though not a mountain-top
bird like our [White] Ptarmigan, yet subject, from the higher
latitudes of which it is a native, to greater extremes of seasons
than that, it is subject to similar change in its plumage. And
farther, as though it does not migrate very far to the southward,
it is a wandering bird; it does not change its plumage so regu-
larly, or so completely in the flocks that migrate, as the [White]
Ptarmigan does, which summer and winter on the same moun-
tain-top.

‘‘The storms in the polar regions set in with very consider-
able differences of time in different seasons ; and when they do
set in, they lay the native pastures of the bird completely under
snow, which lies, and renders food inaccessible for many months.
They often come so suddenly, and with so little prelude of cold,
that the bird is sometimes caught by them in its summer
plumage, or with that plumage barely beginning to change. In
that state it is least able to endure the cold, and consequently it
makes its way farther to the south than when it is caught later
and more prepared for the cold. Thus it is the Tawny Bunting,
Pied Finch,* Snow-flake,t or White Lark, according to the
time of the year at which it happens to be caught in the storm
and carried away from the regions of the north.

* This name is likewise applied to the Chaff Finch in Derbyshire and other
parts of the kingdom.—N. W.

+ In the Analyst, Nos. 13 & 14, the appellation Snowflake is very properly
given to Nyctea cinerea (STEPH.) and it istermed the ‘* Grey Snowflake,.’—N. W.

THE SNOWY LONGSPUR. 277

“In the summer it inhabits the rocky and mossy places of
the north, where there are no trees, and few bushes; and picks
up its food from the seeds of the Carex, and stunted rushes and
hard plants which grow and ripen seed there ; and its long and
produced hinder claws adapt it for walking on the mossy, boggy,
or otherwise loose surfaces upon which these grow. When it
migrates to our shores, whether at one time and in one tint of
plumage, or at another time and in a different tint, it frequents
those places which are most analogous to its native pastures,
shunning alike the wooded and the cultivated places, and re-
sorting to the open wilds—the uplands of the south, if it comes
early, and the level wastes near the shores in the north, if it
comes later.

“The young, of early broods, if their wings are matured in
time, are the first to migrate southward; and instances have
been already mentioned in which the young have an autumnal
migration to the south while the old ones continue in the
breeding places. There are various reasons why that should
be the case. The old ones have to undergo the renovation of
their plumage, after they have worn it in providing for the
young till these were fledged. ‘The old ones are also better
tempered to the weather than the birds of the first year, which
have experienced no cold. Besides, though the young are
sufficiently fledged for flight in their first or nestling plumage,
they have to get the winter additions, which all birds partially
or generally resident in very high latitudes or very cold places,
acquire at that time; and the probability is, that they do not
get their additions so early in the season as the old ones, in
which the autumnal change is, with the exception of such fea-
thers as have been injured, more an addition to their covering
than a displacing and renewal of it. The worn feathers are of
course those of the wings and the tail, which have been entirely
employed in the labours of the summer, and the ones which
are thickened by an additional supply without a general toss of
the old ones, are those which merely clothe the body of the
bird ; and hence though the old birds are better clothed for the

278 THE SNOWY LUNGSPUR.

polar climate than the young ones, they are much less capable
of fiight, and consequently of migration.

«There is another trait in the Natural History of birds,
which although it may be observed in them all, resident as well
as migrant, is yet so conspicuous in the Snowy Longspur, that
this is the proper place for noticing it. The male is the most
sensitive to heat, and the female to cold. That difference ap-
pears, whether the result of the action of heat, be change of
place, or change of plumage. The males of all our summer
visitants arrive earlier than the females ;* and in all resident
birds the change of plumage and voice of the male are among
the first indications of the spring, taking precedence of most of
the vegetable tribes, for the [Robin] Redbreast and the [Ivy]
Wren sing before the snowdrop flowers appear.t It seems, too,
that the song and the attentions of the male, are necessaries in
aid of the warmth of the season, to produce the influence of
the season upon the female; and even as the season advances,
the female remains a skulking and hidling bird throughout the
season, at least until the young have broken the shell and re-
quire her labour to feed and her courage (which she sometimes
acquires to a wonderful degree at that time) to protect them.
Whether it be that instinct leads the female to husband her
heat for the purpose of hatching her eggs, or simply that the
thinning of the under plumage which takes place at that time,
and is the more conspicuous the more closely that the bird sits,
it is certain that the female of most birds avoids the sun, and
that all cover their eggs from its light during the period of
incubation.

“One can understand why the eggs should be covered,{ in-
asmuch as the germs of life, whether animal or vegetable, do
not perform their first action unless in the dark, or at least in

* This fact is of course familiar to every Ornithologist, but the reason here
assigned for it, will probably be new to many of my readers.—N. W.

+ The notes of the Robin Redbreast may be heard throughout the year.—N. W.

+ All birds do not cover their eggs, and they frequently leave them exposed to
the rays of the sun for a considerable period.—N. W.

THE SNOWY LONGSPUR. 279

the shade. The sunbeams bring all living things to what may
be considered as their highest state of development and per-
fection; but it is too powerful for the first or rudimental
stages ; and if life continues in what we are accustomed to call
a rudimental state, asin an earth-worm, an oyster, or the moss
which grows on the walls of ruins, the clear and full light of
day is too much for it.

“« In the female bird there is thus an avoiding of the solar in-
fluence as well as a want of excitability by it, and the one of
these may be the cause of the other; and the two together,
though their effect would at first seem to take the other way,
show why the female should be the first to follow the sun in
his southward destination in the autumn. [Ifa bird is perched
on a bush or stump that rises above the snow, the rays of the
slanting sun beat more ardently upon it than if they came per-
pendicularly, while it perched on the succulent leaf of a tropical
plant. They are augmented by reflection from the snow, and
they strike the bird lower down, and not so much on the back,
which from its gloss is the best calculated for deflecting off the
heat. The hidling bird, on the other hand, would necessarily
be subject to the excess of cold that prevails in the shade.*

«<The male in the winter plumage, which is the only perfect
plumage in which it appears in Britain, is pure white with the
exception of the back, the middle coverts, and partially the
quills and central feathers of the tail, which remain black ; but
the change to white, like that in the Ptarmigan, is more or less
complete according to circumstances. They come in great
numbers to the northern isles and north parts of the highlands
of Scotland, always white in proportion as the winter is more
advanced. They come during, and apparently driven by, the
violent north-east winds which precede or accompany the heavy
falls of snow. On their arrival, they are sadly exhausted and

* Two paragraphs are here omitted for the reason adduced in my Ornithologist's

Tezt-book, Supp. Art. I. in the article ‘*‘ GoLDEN EAGLE,” extracted from the
same work,—N. W.

2980 THE SNOWY LONGSPUR.

emaciated ; and, if caught in the snow-drift, many of them are
whelmed in the wreaths and perish. But when the storm
abates, those that are in the low countries near the sea—Shet-
land, Orkney, Caithness, and similar places, soon get very fat,
as they also do upon the coasts of Lapland, when the storms
drive them from the mountains. The latter people capture
them in great numbers for the table, and they are highly prized.

“© TIn summer the plumage alters, the white on the head, the
breast, partially on the rest of the under part, and the margins
of the feathers above, gives place to pale tawny orange, mixed
on some parts with pale grey; and an additional portion of
the upper feathers brown black.

*‘The young are still darker, except in the black on the
upper part, which is not so pure, and the females do not
acquire the intense snowy whiteness of the other sex.

«¢ The young birds and females reach the south of England,
and are probably more numerous in the middle latitudes of
that country than in the north of Scotland; but the males in
winter plumage are most numerous there, very numerous
indeed if the winter is severe. The males that come early and
with the plumage partially changed, and also the females (for
females do come there) are birds of evil omen to the hill |
farmers, as they often foretel but too truly, that the snow will
come before the late oats are gathered in, and the potatoe crop
out of the ground; and those who are weather-wise quicken
the hand of their industry, when they see the Snowy Longspur
early, with his pale tawny gorget, especially if on those
halcyon days which are so treacherous in the autumn of high
latitudes.

«They even remain and breed in the extreme north. But
as they are naturally mountain birds, they are found in the
main-land rather than in the isles. That dreary ridge of
mountains which extends from the end of Caithness to Cape
Rath, and which almost seems too cold and sterile for heath
and bog-myrtle, is the place to look for them; and any one
who had the hardihood to summer and winter upon its bleak

THE SNOWY LONGSPUR. 281

north side, would, duly employed, find something to add to
the Ornithology of our ultima Thule. He might make sure of
the nest of the Snowy Longspur and the Grey Snowflake
[Nyctea cinerea, StEPH.], and he might search the crags for
the Jer Falcon’s nest; and the few low sandy tracts at the
heads of the little wild creeks, for that of the [Collared]
Turnstone ;—and if he should (as who does not when safe
upon the trusty rock) love to look upon the deep in storms,
he would have ample scope for knowing how sublimely the
angry north can thunder; or again, how soundly the arctic
tide can sleep, and how gaily it can glitter, at that season
when its night is more illuminated than noon in the southern
fogs.

‘In nesting time, the Snowy Longspurs are very solitary
and retired. Their nests are in the clefts of inland rocks, con-
structed of grass and feathers, and lined with down, or with
the fur of the arctic fox or the northern hare. The eggs do
not exceed five ; they are nearly spherical, with reddish white
grounds, and lines and dots of reddish brown. They do not
breed in inhabited, or even in habitable places ; and they breed
late. The male, which though a feeble songster, is a much
_more pleasing one than any of the Buntings, begins his song
about the middle, or towards the end of May; and he con-
tinues it till the latter part of July. His note of invitation is
pleasant; but that of alarm is harsh and shrill, and rings
among the crags. In the breeding-time the birds are very
industrious, resting little in the night, and the male takes his
turn in the incubation. They run fieetly, but never perch, for
which indeed their feet are not so well adapted.

‘‘In the statements of authors, there is some confusion in
the accounts of the changes of plumage in the Snowy Longspur,
which probably arises from the late period of the season to
which it wears the winter plumage, and the moult being
perhaps gradual.”

Mr. Bryru informs me that he has kept one of these birds
alive for a considerable time, and that “ it used to be very

282 THE RUSTY LONGSPUR.

lively and interesting, running along the ground very quickly,
but now, poor thing, it has broken its leg, and it is almost a
pity to keep it any longer.” Dr. Liverpoot has likewise, at
different times, had several in confinement, and though some-
what wild—having been taken in traps—they were amusing,
and by no means difficult to preserve. They would feed on
hemp and other seeds, which they cracked with ease, but they
always preferred the seeds of grasses, and were partial to some
kinds of insects. They could never be induced to eat oats, or
indeed any other corn, though it is probable that, in their
wild state, and when pressed by hunger, they do resort to it.
Dr. L. at one time possessed five or six of these birds in a

small room, and he found that they always passed the night on
the floor.

Rusty Lonespur, Plectrophanes Lapponica, SELBY.

Oh! bid me not roam
From my mountain home;
The rich harvests that load the fertile plain,
With the luscious fruits and the golden grain,
Are less to my mind
Than the berries I find,
Waving on high in the keen mountain wind.
Minstrelsy of the Woods.

SyYNoNYMS.—Fringilla Lapponica, LINN. Syst.— LATH. Ind. Orn.— Fringilla
montana, Briss. Orn.—Fringilla calcarata, PALLAS.—Emberiza calcarata,
Temm. Man. d’Orn.—Plectrophanes Lapponica, SELBY in Linn. Trans. and
Br. Orn.—Lapland Finch, Latu. Syn.—Lapland Bunting, Sw. & Ricu. North
Sool.—Lapland Longspur, BonAP. Orn.—Rusty Longspur, Analyst, No. 14.

Tue Rusty Longspur is only known in Britain as a rare oc-
casional visitant. SELBy says :—‘‘ The figure given of this
species upon one of the supplementary plates, is from an indi-
vidual that was found some years ago in Leaden Hall Market,
amongst some Larks sent up to London from Cambridgeshire,
and which specimen is now preserved in the collection of the
Zoological Society. A second, caught alive in the neighbour-

THE RUSTY LONGSPUR. 283

hood of Brighton, was kept caged for some months, as a
variety of Lark, and after death passed into the hands of Mr.
Yarrevu of Ryder Street, in whose collection it remains.
Both of these were young or immatured birds; and no in-
stance of the capture of the adult male, distinguished by a
marked and well contrasted plumage, has yet come to my
knowledge.”

Becustein’s Cage Birds will supply the rest of the present
article :—

“‘This [bird] would be mistaken for a Lark at first sight,
as much from its plumage as from the length of its spur. We
should also see them much oftener in Germany if the bird-
catchers, who catch them in their Lark’s net, did not take or
kill them both indifferently. Their decoys are the same as the
Buntings (Emberiza, Linn.), for though we cannot observe
them much while alive, we cannot be deceived as to their pair-
ing with Finches (Fringilla, Linn.), Buntings, and Larks.
They are about the size of the Yellow Bunting, six inches and
a half in length, of which the tail measures two. The beak is
yellow, with a black tip; the feet dark brown; the head
blackish, spotted with reddish white, sometimes quite black ;
a white line passes from the base of the bill above the eyes,
down each side of the neck, curving towards the breast; the
upper part of the body is red, with brown spots; the throat
and breast are pale red; some males are black in the middle of
the lower part; the belly, thighs, and lower tail coverts are
white; the lesser wing coverts are pale red, the middle ones
black, with yellow border and white tips, which form a white
bar on the wings; the quill feathers, and those of the forked
tail, are black, bordered with yellow.

“The female is paler in its colours; its breast is spotted
with grey and black; in fact, its plumage resembles the Field
Lark’s.

‘This bird is always found in the north, both in the old and
new world, and goes towards the south in winter. It is met
with by us on its arrival with the Larks, and on its return

984 THE CORN BUNTING.

with the Snowy Longspur, but it is oftenest taken with Larks.
Its call is a kind of shrill whistle, and its song is very similar
to the [Whin] Linnet’s; the female also warbles, but only in
the Hedge Coalhood’s style. It ranges the room like the Lark,
and if ina cage hops about its perches like the Chaff Finch.
It is fed on rape, hemp, and poppy seed, which appear to agree
with it very well. It may be fed at less expense on the uni-
versal paste, and it also likes meal worms. I think that in its
wild state it lives, like the Chaff Finch, on seeds and insects.”

The nest, according to Dr. Ricuarpson, “is placed upon a
small hillock, among moss and stones, and is composed exter-
nally of the dry stems of grass, interwoven to a considerable
thickness, and lined very neatly and compactly with deer’s
hair.” Secpy adds,—“ The eggs are usually seven in number,
of a pale ochre-yellow, spotted with brown. . . se
feeds upon the seeds of various grasses, as well as those of the
alpine fruits, as the Arbutus alpina, &c.”

It is possible that this bird has been met with in England
much more frequently than is at present supposed, but that it
has been mistaken, as in Germany, for a Lark!

Genus EMBERIZA, Linn. BUNTING.

Corn Buntine, Emberiza miliaria, Linn.

Synonyms.—Emberiza miliaria, Linn. Syst.—Latu. Ind. Orn.—SELBy’s Br.
Orn.—Miliaria canescens, Analyst, No. 14.—Common Bunting, SELBY’s Br.
Orn.—Tawny Seedling, Analyst, No. 14.

Tuer Corn Bunting is the largest British species of the genus,
and is resident and common in almost every part of the British
islands, extending so far to the north as the Orkneys, where,
according to Low’s Fauna Orcadensis, it is as plentiful as else-
where. I say that it is abundant in almost every part of Bri-
tain, because, strange as it may seem, I have only twice met
with it in my ornithological rambles in Derbyshire; and this
circumstance is even more inexplicable than the non-appearance
of the Whitethroat Fauvet amongst us, inasmuch as there was

THE CORN BUNTING. 285

a reason, or an apology of a reason for that. Now the Corn
Bunting, as every tyro in Ornithology well knows, is most
partial to, and most abundant in, cultivated and fertile districts,
qualities in which the flat portion of Derbyshire is by no means
deficient, every spot of ground being turned to good account by
our industrious farmers, and presenting, in goodly succession,
meadows, corn fields, peas, beans, turnips, and numberless
other ‘‘ crops,” which it would be alike tedious and unprofit-
able here to describe. Suffice it to say, however, that there is
not an acre of waste ground for miles round, and that our
fertile valley, or rather plain, presents, towards the close of
summer, a most inviting aspect from the summits of the sur-
rounding hills.

Yet, notwithstanding all this, and that its congener—in
haunts as well as in systems—the Yellow Bunting, of which
anon, is fully as abundant as elsewhere, the present species
keeps aloof from us. On one occasion, when returning from
a short ride, one lovely evening in the summer of 1834, my
journal informs me that I saw a single male Corn Bunting
perched on the top of a hedge, and uttering its song or “ skirle.”
The sounds indeed were by no means sweet, and might have
induced a superficial observer to quicken his pace and hasten
from the spot; but I stood gazing at it and watching its
motions as long as it remained in sight, astonished as I was
at the sight of a Corn Bunting hereabouts! Its neighbour the
Yellow Bunting appeared likewise to partake of my surprise,
and four or five were fluttering about in an adjacent bush,
with evident signs of wonder at so unexpected a visit from the
Common Bunting.

And here we have a remakable instance of the inappropriate-
ness of the specific appellation common. It cannot, in fact, be
appropriate for any bird or any animal whatever. For what
folly and ignorance it is to call a bird ‘‘ common”’ just because
it is so in the spot where the nomenclator happens to reside.
Common is even worse as a specific designation than European,
American, &c., inasmuch as the latter may, in some cases, and

286 THE CORN BUNTING.

for a certain period, be correct, though they are ever liable to
become erroneous ; but common can never be admissible.

The other instance alluded to, of the Corn Bunting’s having
occurred here, was in December 1835, when a small flock
alighted in some fields near Sudbury, remained for a few days
amongst the farm-yards in the neighbourhood, and then took
their departure for more favourite spots. I confess myself
wholly at a loss to account for the rarity of this species in
Derbyshire, but the fact is certain, and has been noticed by many
accurate observers with whom I have conversed. The circum-
stance has, however, escaped the notice of Ornithologists ; and
this 1s scarcely to be wondered at; for a resident Naturalist in
this fox-hunting neighbourhood is a very rare animal, and Or-
nithologists who visit Derbyshire from afar, betake themselves
to the Peak, and the hilly picturesque parts of the county, in
search of the Golden Eagle (Aquila aurea), Rivulet Dipper
(Cinclus lutans), Pied Flycatcher (Muscicapa luctuosa), and
other rare and precious game.

In the vicinity of Tutbury, on the borders of Staffordshire, I
have met with it occasionally, and likewise with its nest, and
it becomes much more plentiful as we advance from here on the
road leading to Burton-on-Trent, but is not so common even
there as in the neighbourhood of Derby, where this and the
following species are about equally abundant. In most parts
of Staffordshire it occurs very frequently, but only in cultivated
spots, and not on the extensive moors and heathy commons,
which cover a considerable portion of that country. Thus,
though the species is rare in my more immediate neighbour-
hood, yet a short three-mile walk or ride conveys me to loca-
lities where it abounds, and, therefore, I rejoice to say, I am
enabled to present you with a history of its habits fresh from
the fields, which will be much more satisfactory, both to the
reader and myself, than if I were to ransack my library for an
account of it.

Like the Yellow Bunting, it is a bird of the hedge, being
mostly met with in corn fields, or in hedges by the road-side.

THE CORN BUNTING. 287

Barren wastes, trackless moors, uninhabited piaces of any
kind, and elevated grounds, are not the localities to look for it.
On the contrary, it prefers the low and cultivated districts, in
the vicinity of dwelling-houses, farms, &c., which rarely fail
to be frequented by it. It seldom takes lofty or long-protracted
flights, except when a small flock passes from one district
into another, an occurrence which I have occasionally known
to take place, during a continuance of frost, and when the
snow lies deep on the ground. In such cases, the partial
migrations are carried on in perfect silence, and at such a
height as renders it useless to attempt to shoot at them. If,
however, a Sparrow Hawk appears, they instantly disperse,
uttering harsh screams, and rushing, like the Coal and Marsh
Tits on a similar occasion, in a downward direction. Should
the voracious plunderer make a stoop amongst them, one un-
happy victim is usually singled out and borne aloft; but, no
sooner is the danger out of sight, than the scattered forces col-
lect, and again mounting aloft into the air, resume their journey
in peace, until again molested by their vigilant enemies. Such
partial migrations of the Corn Bunting have only thrice come
under my notice, and twice, out of this limited number, have
I known their ranks thinned by the Sparrow Hawk—a most
abundant species in this neighbourhood, and remarkably bold.*

The Corn Bunting is by no means a shy species, scarcely so
much so as the Yellow Bunting, and this circumstance, added
to its abundance, and its haunts, conspire to render it one of
the most familiar of birds, though, as I have already observed,
they are often palmed off on epicures for the Sky Lark. In
many of its habits it is closely allied to the Longspurs, and in-
deed the gradation from the Pipits, through their numerous
links and affinities, to the Buntings, is most beautiful and ob-
vious, and would be equally so in the whole range of Ornitho-

* A few years ago, a Sparrow Hawk broke a pane of glass in a window of my
residence, and flew in, with the view of pouncing on a caged Canary. I had him
caught, however, and to this day it figures im my museum. It was a male bird,
2nd in fine plumage.

288 THE CORN BUNTING.

logy, and indeed throughout Nature, could we but become
acquainted with all her endless and varied forms. Until this
is the case, all attempts at systems must be abortive, or, at all
events, they can only be perfect in certain parts, where the
chain is least broken. The Quinary System is the nearest ap-
proach to a rational classification, and though at present it only
serves to point out our deficiency in knowledge of species, yet
there is every reason for supposing—despite the sneers and
ridicule of its opponents—that it will eventually prove to be the
natural system. But to resume the “ thread of our discourse.”

From its familiarity, and the domesticity of its haunts, the
present species is at all times open to observation. Like the
other Buntings it moves along the ground by hopping, and is
as much seen on the ground as on bushes and hedges, but it
never mounts to a high perch, its habits being intermediate, in |
this respect, between those of the Longspurs and the more
typical members of the Finch family. Like the Larks, the
House Sparrow, the Hedge Dunnock, the Common Fowl, &c.,
it is a duster, and may sometimes be seen rolling in the road
ina hot summer’s day. But dusting would not seem to be a
constant habit with it, and I think I have found that it prefers
washing in a running stream, in its wild state. My friend,
Dr. Liverroot, informs me that he has frequently observed it
dusting itself in confinement, but he was not aware that it
would wash, until I advised him to try the experiment.

The song of this species might perhaps more properly be de-
nominated a “‘ skirle,” as it consists only of five or six notes,
and only of two tones. The strain exceeds that of the Yellow
Banting, and indeed that of any other songster with which I
am acquainted, in harshness, being wholly destitute of that
sweetness and melody which constitutes the chief charm of the
notes of many of our woodland choristers. This monotonous
strain is repeated throughout the day, with little intermission,
from early dawn to the setting sun, when, however, it instantly
ceases. It usually pours forth this oft-repeated ditty from the
top sprig of a hedge or bush, as is indeed the custom with the

THE CORN BUNTING. 289

rest of the genus, and, being a large bird, it is then remarkably
conspicuous. Whilst singing, it commonly sits upon the sprig
which supports it, as if to point out to its auditors how easily
it effects this portion of its labours. How different is this from
the manner in which the Brake Nightingale, the Fauvets, and
others of the Warbler family, deport themselves, on a similar
occasion. See how they stand erect on their perch, raise the
feathers of their head, and ruffle those of their little throats!
They appear as if another exertion would burst their delicate
forms. Yet, when we reflect on the matter, we may fairly
conclude that the degree of fatigue, experienced by the Corn
Bunting and the Garden Fauvet, is nearly equal, both being in
fact mechanical. The animal heat is doubtless about as ardent
in the one species as it is in the other; and singing is probably
equally little exertion to both.

Of the nest of the Corn Bunting I have hitherto only met
with a single specimen in this county, and even that was on
the borders of Staffordshire; in the latter county, however, it
breeds abundantly in the cultivated lowlands. About Tutbury,
on the confines of Staffordshire, three miles from my residence,
the nest is rarely found, and indeed I have only heard of a
single instance of it. The specimen here alluded to, is now in
the possession of my friend Mr. HetpENMAIER, to whom, as
that gentleman informs me, it was brought as a rare object,
and so in truth it is in these parts. Near Marston-on-Dove
and Rolleston, especially on the other side of these villages, the
nest frequently occurs.

The structure consists of straw and dried grass, matted to-
gether in the manner of the other Buntings, and is lined with
fine fibres and horse-hair. It is large and thick, but not very
compact, nor so firmly matted as the nests of the Yellow and
Reed Buntings; and for the obvious reason that it is usually
placed on the ground, under the shelter of a tuft of grass, some-
times in the middle of a field, but often on the declivity of a
tall bank, beside a little-frequented lane, or also under a hedge.
I have likewise found it elevated a foot or so from the ground,

U

290 THE CORN BUNTING.

and situate amongst brambles or other thick, braky herbage,
under a hedge, where the structure exhibited somewhat more
art than is usually employed by this bird. The eggs are com-
monly from four to six in number, rarely three, and are ofa
pale cream colour, streaked with reddish brown, and here and
there marked with spots of the same tint. The eggs of the
Buntings are at once distinguishable from those of all other
birds, by the streaks by which they are invariably characterized.
The eggs of the present species are considerably subject to va-
riety, as regards the ground colour, which is sometimes of a
light purple, and sometimes nearly white; the lines and dots
appear, however, to be always disposed of in the same manner.
They are figured in the first number of the British Oology, of
my friend Hewirson, and to this work, accordingly, I now
refer my readers.

The food of this bird consists, for the most part, of corn, and
the seeds of various plants and grasses; for the bruising of
which it is eminently well calculated. The hard knob observ-
able in the roof of all the Buntings’ bills, is more marked in
this species than in any other, being apparent, at first sight,
and to the most careless observer. I believe that insects and
worms constitute no part of its food. On the approach of se-
vere weather they congregate in large flocks, and are amongst
the most destructive of the pillagers of the farmer’s corn-ricks.
During the day-time they associate with Yellow Buntings,
House Sparrows, Chaff Finches, and other birds, but at night
they retire to their sleeping grounds, in the neighbourhood of
farms, roosting either on the ground, or in bushes and hedges,
according to the state of the weather. Occasionally they will
pass the night in an ivy-clad wall, but their most favourite
roost appears to be a tall holly bush rising out of a hedge,
where I have observed them to retire in dozens at about dusk.
At this time, a common bat-fowling net might easily capture
the whole flock.

‘ The Corn Bunting is a large bird, being little inferior in size
to the Garden Thrush. It is by no means a handsome species,

THE CORN BUNTING. 991

either as regards colour or shape, and its habits are neither so
varied nor interesting as those of the Yellow and Reed Bunt-
ings; and, from its exclusively granivorous habits, it is more
prejudicial to the interests of the farmer than any other of our
small birds. The House Sparrow partly counterbalances its
corn-eating, stack-pillaging propensities, by the immense num-
ber of worms and caterpillars which it destroys during the
breeding season, andit may, therefore, well be doubted whether
farmers would not be doing themselves a greater service by de-
stroying the Corn Bunting, than by directing all their energies
against the House Sparrow ; but one could as soon remove a
mountain from its place, as convince the worthy farmer of his
error in this and numerous other particulars, relating equally to
farming and to Natural History.

This species is somewhat subject to variety, individuals more
or less white being occasionally met with. I now possess the
skin of one which is nearly white, with the exception of a few
indistinct markings of brown, in various parts. It was shot in
Yorkshire, some eight or ten years ago, but I know nothing of
its history. A short time since, I forwarded the specimen to
my friend Mr. Biyta, who made the following observations
on it :—

“« The bird which you sent me is unquestionably a Corn
Bunting, and a very remarkable specimen it is, inasmuch as,
contrary to the usual course of Nature in the case of white
variations, it is moulting, and the new feathers are mostly
coming white, in the place of coloured ones, which were being
shed. Pale or white varieties of birds in nestling plumage, more
commonly become pied when they moult the first time, and of
the natural colour at the second change of plumage. But this
bird was undergoing at least the second moult—as the old fea-
thers on the back are not nestling feathers—and would have
had much more white on the new plumage than on the old.”

Some authors mention varieties of this species, but I never
saw or heard of so remarkable a one as that above described.

992 THE YELLOW BUNTING.

YELLow Buntine, Emberiza citrinella, Linn.

See! her mate, as nigh the tree,
Chaunting oft at break of day,

Still proclaiming, merrily,
Merrily, his roundelay !

Synonyms.—Emberiza flava, GEsN. Orn.—WILL. Orn.—BRIss. Orn.—Emberiza
citrinella, LINN. Syst —LATH. Ind. Orn.—SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Yellow Bunting,
SELBy’s Br. Orn.—MUDIE'S Feath. Tribes.

Tus species, like the preceding, is indigenous in Britain,
and is extremely plentiful in every part of the kingdom. The
curious fact of the Corn Bunting’s rarely occurring in Derby-
shire, or at least in some portions of it, has already been no-
ticed ; and this circumstance is rendered the more remarkable
by the great abundance of the present species, which is nearly
related to it in haunts and manners. In most parts of the
country the two species are about equally common, and in
some localities the Corn Bunting predominates, but here,
whilst the latter seldom or never appears, the Yellow Bunting
abounds in almost every field, hedge, and high road. Both
birds are familiar, and little prone to concealment, and are,
therefore, easily seen and observed by even the most careless
observer, though they are, on this very account, but little no-
ticed. None of our other small birds can boast of such beauti-
ful and delicate tints and shades as the Yellow Bunting; its
shape is elegant, and its motions light and graceful; but, hap-
pily for it, its voice is harsh and unpleasant, and therefore it
escapes the barbarous wire prisons of the bird-fancier, though
it is much more fitted for confinement than the Sky Lark, and
other more melodious songsters. When first caught and caged,
it is very wild, and is constantly endeavouring to escape, but
it becomes, ere long, accustomed to its prison, and hops about
as gently and blithely asa Canary. If caged in the breeding

THE YELLOW BUNTING. 293

season, and especially if its young are hatched, it frequently
refuses all food, and, unless suffered to escape, soon perishes.

A Yellow Bunting that I winged and gave to a friend some
time since, was allowed to fly about a small parlour, and soon
became so tame and familiar as to feed out of the hand. At
first, however, it was sulky, refused all sustenance, and usu-
ally skulked behind the window-curtains, or under the sofa,
but after a few days it would occasionally come out of its hid-
ing place to be fed, though if any one made the slightest move-
ment of his hand or foot, off it would go again. By degrees,
however, it became quite fearless, picked crumbs and seeds from
our feet, and at last from our hands ; this was only a fortnight
after I had shot it. Frequently it would fly on our heads and
shoulders, and it was becoming a most amusing pet, when it
one day met the fate of all such creatures, and was killed by a
cat. I have seen other individuals perfectly contented and
happy in confinement, and singing the whole day, though they
had been captured or shot but a short time before. A Yellow
Bunting that I caught two years ago, was placed in an aviary
containing several other birds, but died at the end of the second
day, having taken no food. This was in the breeding season,
which was probably the cause of its death, the other indivi-
duals having been taken in autumn or winter, which is, in fact,
the proper season for catching them.

It may be captured at night, with a bat-fowling net, which
must be set about the hedges, though it sometimes passes the
night on the ground. It may also be taken with bird-lime,
though bird-catchers seldom consider it worth their while to
employ this method with so common a bird. But after all,
though it is doubtless a lively and interesting bird in confine-
ment, I think it far more satisfactory to observe it in its natu-
ral state, and at perfect liberty, when its colours are far
brighter, and its spirit more cheerful than they can ever be in
cages; for it is a well-known fact that long confinement consi-
derably detracts from the lustre of its tints, and I have found
even a short period of imprisonment, as a month or six weeks’

294 THE YELLOW BUNTING.

to have some effect in this particular, as will be evident to any
one who compares a caged individual with one freshly caught.
Even in its wild state, on sultry dusty days, its plumage be-
comes tarnished as it were, but a single flutter in a neighbour-
ing brook, at eventide, adds fresh beauty to its lovely colours.

Beautiful as is the Yellow Bunting, it is marvellous to per-
ceive how listlessly the common observer passes it over, with-
out even bestowing on it a passing glance. Happening to be
riding, one beautiful summer’s day, with a very intelligent
friend, I pointed out to him the lovely tints of a fine male of
this species, perched on a gate-post. But, not being a Natu-
ralist, he looked at me with surprise, and asked me if I had
never seen a Yellow Bunting before! Common objects, how-
ever beautiful or wonderful they may be in themselves, are
seldom duly appreciated, and I dare say that few of my readers
are fully aware of the exquisite, though simple, colouring of
the Yellow Bunting, which, common though it be, is not, in
my opinion, surpassed in this particular, by any rarer species
that visit our islands. Had the Yellow Bunting been a rare
bird, or had it—unluckily for itself—been gifted with the
voice of the more melodious woodland choristers, its praises
would have been sung by every Poet, and acknowledged by
every Naturalist and compiler, from ArtstoTLe to the present
day.

The song of the Yellow Bunting is little superior to that of
the preceding species, to which, indeed, it bears a considerable
resemblance, being short, harsh, and monotonous, and con-
sisting 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. This unmelodious ditty is usually poured
forth from the topmost sprig of a hedge, or from some project-
ing spray of a young tree, where the bird may be seen perched,
in the same position, for half-an-hour together. Though not re-
markable for power, the notes are audible ata very considerable
distance, and indeed they fall almost as indistinctly on the ear
from afar, as they do when quite close, of which circumstance

THE YELLOW BUNTING. 995

we find numerous parallel cases in other birds. Whilst sing-
ing, this bird appears to exert itself but little, usually sitting
on its perch, with the feathers of the head and throat almost
motionless ; and the bill exhibits none of that rapid vibratory
action so evident in the Blackcapt Fauvet, and other species.

Sitting, indeed, appears to be a very favourite posture with
this species, being commonly assumed immediately on alighting
from the wing. In winter it might be supposed that this was
for the purpose of keeping its feet warm, and canting, thought-
less individuals, would at once triumphantly point out the
“* wisdom of Providence”’ in this circumstance, without reflect-
ing that the bird does just the same in the dog days as in mid-
winter; and that there is no essential difference between the
foot of the Yellow Bunting and the House Sparrow, that the
one should be so much more susceptible of cold than the other.
It would be far more rational if such gentry would endeavour
to amass new facts, than, as many now do, attempt to phi-
losophise on an ill-grounded assertion, or a total error, and
remind us, at every turn, of the ‘‘ goodness of Providence,”
as if that were a proposition yet to be proved !

Although the present species is far from being highly-gifted
with musical abilities, it is a most diligent songster; for the
notes are first heard in April, and, which is remarkable, gene-
rally continue throughout the breeding season. Most birds, as
is well known, cease their melody as soon as the young burst
the shell, but the Yellow Bunting, on the contrary, sings most
unceasingly at that period, and its labours are not remitted till
late in the summer. Some persons with whom I have con-
versed on the subject, are of opinion, that only those males
which have, by some accident, Jost their young, are heard to
sing so late in the season. But this is not the case. For I
have, in numberless instances, seen the male carolling beside a
nest containing fledged young, and subsequently whilst fol-
lowed by the young brood, amongst the thick foliage; for at
this time he is more seen than heard.

The male, like that of most other members of the order Jn-

296 THE YELLOW BUNTING.

sessores, or Perchers, frequently takes his turn on the eggs, for
about half-an-hour at noon. And even here, as if unwilling
for a moment to intermit its everlasting ditty, it sometimes ut-
ters it while sitting in the nest. During an ornithological ram-
ble on the other side of the Dove, on a beautiful morning in
May, I was struck by the sound of the Yellow Bunting’s song,
at the bottom of a hedge, instead of at the top, as is usually
the case, and, on peering into the bush, out started a Yellow
Bunting from its nest, where, it seems, it had been amusing
itself with its unmusical voice. I regularly visited the spot, in
the middle of the day, for some time afterwards, always ap-
proaching with great caution, and seldom failed in hearing the
male recapitulating its strains. Desirous of discovering how
long this lasted each time, I one day waited for above an hour
near the spot, namely, from a quarter before twelve till one, in
a convenient place for observation. I awaited the result with
as much anxiety as I have frequently done, at the same hour
of the night, for the Brake Nightingale to strike up, but no-
thing very satisfactory was ascertained. This day, the notes
were first heard exactly as a neighbouring church clock struck
twelve, and continued, with little intermission, till twenty mi-
nutes before one; though it is more than probable that the
male and female must have changed places twice during my
stay, yet could I not, with the utmost vigilance, perceive any
occurrence of the kind, and was thus unable to discover the
exact period of the male’s sitting, though the commencement
and cessation of the notes indicated whereabouts it was. After
the young were hatched, the male no longer took his turn on
the nest, but frequently amused his mate with a song on the
top of the bush, or occupied himself with providing food for
her, which he either laid down at the edge of the nest, or de-
posited in the beak of the female. After a few days, however,
their assiduities in some measure decreased, and both the pa-
rents joined in foraging for their brood. The nest had been
constantly visited, by myself and others, and the young there-
fore disappeared on the ninth day after they were hatched, and

THE YELLOW BUNTING. 297

were not seen afterwards. I have only known one other in-
stance of the Yellow Bunting’s singing on its nest, but mv
researches on this head will be renewed next spring.

In autumn and winter this species is invariably silent—
except as regards its call-note—but I learn from a corres-
pondent (Wm. D. Burcuett, Esq., of Edinburgh), that it
often sings throughout the year in confinement, except during
the moulting time, and I have myself heard it singing in De-
cember in a cage. Mr. Burcuexy says:—“‘ Whilst walking
in a back street in Edinburgh, in the early part of January
1834, I heard the well-known song of the Yellow Bunting, in
a bird shop, on the other side of the way. On entering the
house, I saw, amongst numbers of other singing birds, four of
this species, which appeared to be all males. The man in-
formed me that they sang the livelong day, and almost through-
out the year, but that they invariably cease a little before
dusk, and artificial light never causes them to commence
afresh,’ as is the case with the Brake Nightingale, Tree
Redstart, and others. This species is rarely kept in confine-
ment, melody of song being invariably preferred, by the true
bird-fancier, to sprightliness of motion, brilliancy of plumage,
or any other merit. The Yellow Bunting is not remarkable
for liveliness in its wild state, often remaining perched on the
same spray for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour together,
keeping its head stiff and motionless, and its tail hanging down
loosely and almost perpendicularly. Often, however, its move-
ments are sprightly and graceful, and it forms a beautiful
ornament in a cage hung near the window, where it never fails
to furnish its keeper with an abundant supply of its music,
such as that is.

The nest is composed of dried grass and the stalks of vari-
ous plants exteriorly, matted and woven in a very artist-like
manner, and lined with horsehair. It is compact, heavy for its
size, and much superior in neatness to that of the previous
species, and is situated near the bottom of a hedge, amongst
brambles and brakes, or on the ground, under the shelter of a

298 THE YELLOW BUNTING.

bush or tuft of herbage. It may likewise be sought for in the
sides of dry banks, where I have known it build at the entrance
of the deserted hole of a water rat, which had quitted its old
haunts ever since the ditch had dried up. It is far from being
an easy nest to find, being usually most sedulously concealed,
and before I had become thoroughly acquainted with its mode
of breeding, I could never discover a single nest, although the
birds were constantly seen inthe neighbourhood. Bird-nesting
boys, however, contrive to get immense numbers of its eggs on
their strings, and not unfrequently kill one or both the parents
with stones. The provincial name of the Yellow Bunting in
this quarter is ‘“‘ Gold Finch,’—‘ Bunting’ and “ yellow-
hammer’”’* being here unknown.

The situation of the nest varies but little, and I do not at
present remember having observed a single deviation from the
usual localities. The eggs are from three to five in number,
rarely six, are of a pale purplish white, streaked and spotted
with light red, or sometimes with purple. Like those of its
congener, the Corn Bunting, they vary little, except in the
intensity of the ground colour, but my friend Mr. Biyru
informs me that he possesses a Yellow Bunting’s egg (which
he found in a nest containing three ordinary ones) ‘‘ which
never had a yolk, and is smaller than a Goldcrested Kinglet’s
egg. The circumstance of this bird’s frequently laying only
three eggs, is not a little remarkable; as most others of the
order either lay four or five, or a greater number. Though a
late breeder, I am inclined to think that it hatches two broods
in the season. On one occasion, at least, I know this to have
been the case, where an instance fell under my notice of the
same pair breeding twice in the same nest, in one summer.
The second brood departed so late as the beginning of August,
during which time the male had continued his song with
unceasing assiduity. I had frequent opportunities of seeing

* The provincial term ‘* Yellow Hammer” is by no means so absurd as some
people are apt te suppose; the ‘* Hammer”’ being obviously derived from Ammer’,
which is the German name for the Bunting.

THE YELLOW BUNTING. 299

the young birds following their parents along the hedges, and
in the stubble fields, and fed by them, but I observed that
they parted company much sooner than they would have done,
had they been hatched at an earlier period. The young birds,
as is common in such cases, remained together for about a
week, roosting close together at night, and appearing perfectly
capable of providing for themselves; but after awhile they
separated, and I saw no more of them.

This bird subsists chiefly on corn, the seeds of grasses and
other plants, but not, if it can help it, on animal substances.
It cannot be denied that it commits considerable damage, along
with other granivorous species, to the corn fields, immediately
before harvest time, and even during that operation, but then
the number of noxious weeds which it destroys, by devouring
their ‘seeds, must not be forgotten, and it must be evident to
any one who takes the trouble of reflecting on the matter, that
the land would be soon overrun by baneful vegetables of various
kinds, which it is beyond the farmer’s power to subdue, were
it not for the unceasing labours of these much calumniated
birds. The Yellow Bunting is seldom pressed for food, the
spring and summer months affording a constant and varied
source of food; and in winter, whilst the snow and frost
prevent their obtaining food from the ground, they flock in
thousands to our farm yards, and join the motley group con-
stantly assembled round the corn-ricks. Here they consume
an immense quantity of grain, and the farmer may now use his
gun as freely as he pleases, though there is perhaps no need of
wasting shot in killing the birds, as it will terrify them suffi-
ciently to fire amongst them several times in the course of the
day with a powder-loaded gun.

When thus disturbed, the whole flock, consisting of many
hundreds, and often of thousands, betakes itself to a neighbour-
ing wood or shrubbery, waiting patiently till the danger be
over, when they again charge the poor farmer’s ricks most
unmercifully. In extremely severe weather, these and other birds
infest the stack-yards in such immense numbers, that the tops

300 THE YELLOW BUNTING.

and sides of the ricks look like one mass of birds, and on taking
wing, which they usually do simultaneously, it almost appears
as if the outer crust (so to speak) of the stack were giving way,
and leaving the farmer to lament the volar powers of his stores!
So greatly indeed do these pilferers annoy the farmers of the
smaller sort, that I have known instances of their finding it
necessary to cover the stacks with sail-cloth, which, being held
down at the sides with large heavy stones or bits of lead,
effectually preserve the corn. In riding home from Uttoxeter
one stormy evening in December 1832, I particularly remember
observing several men employed in thus covering the stacks,
at a small farm, and on enquiring the reason of so strange a
procedure, I found it to be as above stated. In two or three
other cases, the practice has been followed by other farmers in
the neighbourhood.

Some admirers of the feathered race, very naturally desirous
of finding an excuse for the extensive depredations of these
beautiful birds, say that but little damage can accrue from this
cause, as the birds can only obtain the corn from such ears as
are sticking out of the sides ; and, were this true, the injury
would be comparatively small. But justice compels me to
declare, that when hard pressed, they can obtain the object of
their search from the very heart of the stack, by pulling out the
long straws one by one, and devouring the grain at their leisure,
either swallowing it on the spot, or, which is frequently the
case, flying away with it to some place of safety. ‘Those who
have watched that insidious rogue the Garden Tit, plucking
out the straws from a thatched roof, will easily believe what is
stated with regard to the present species; or if they have any
doubts about the matter, let them only repair to afarm yard in
the neighbeurhood, in winter, whilst snow is on the ground.
A very short time will suffice to remove all scepticism on the
subject, and the cold they will in the mean time experience,
may perhaps serve to impress it more forcibly on their organ of
Eventuality !

As long as the Yellow Bunting finds its food at the expense

THE YELLOW BUNTING. 301

of the farmer, it passes the night in an adjoining thicket, roost-
ing for the most part in the leafless hedges—at this time rarely
on the ground. Sometimes it lodges in gardens and shrubberies,
or in ivy walls, amongst rabbles of noisy, ill-bred House
Sparrows, where I have sometimes succeeded in catching a few
with a large bat-fowling net (as it is termed by bird-catchers) ;
but such cases are not of common occurrence, and it would seem
that the individuals which pass the night apart from the main
flock, had merely missed their way, having perhaps sat up so
late as to render it a difficult matter to find their usual resting
place. Persons unacquainted with their habits, or who pay
little attention to Ornithology, frequently wonder where these
birds can repair to at night; for ina spot where hundreds may
be observed a little before dusk, not an individual is to be seen
in a few minutes time ; and whether they plunge into the lakes
and rivers, conceal themselves in the holes of trees, or ‘‘ wander
on the banks of the Styx,” is equally unknown and little cared
for by the greater part of those worthy gentry termed farmers.

About two years ago, in the winter season, when Yellow
Buntings were busily engaged in pillaging the rick-yards, a
farmer applied to me to know where these birds roost at
night. Before initiating him into this secret, however, I asked
him why he wished to obtain this information, and on his
replying that he intended to catch them at night in nets, I de-
termined to evade the question, and professed my inability to
satisfy his desire in this respect, though I verily believe, that
had the interest of the farmer been as much at heart as the
welfare of these lovely creatures, I should at once have pointed
out the place of their roosting. I was not at that time aware
of the exact locality which the Yellow Buntings had chosen
for their resting-place in that neighbourhood, but it would
have been nothing difficult to have discovered it.

Though this species is rarely met with in gardens and the
immediate neighbourhood of houses, it will occasionally ap-
proach them both in summer and winter, being sometimes at-
tracted by the savoury odour of ‘‘ grains,” or some such deli-

302 THE YELLOW BUNTING.

cacy. I have frequently observed them in the stable-yard
behind my residence, after a brewing process had been going
on, and have watched them “gloating” over the soft sweet
grains. But I never saw more than two, and usually only one
individual at a time.

Varieties of this bird occasionally occur, more or less white
or light coloured. When riding ina field about twenty miles
from here, in the summer of 1833, with a friend, I perceived,
at the top of a hawthorn tree, a Yellow Bunting with a white
head. Thinking, however, that I might be mistaken, and that
this effect might be caused by the sun’s shining upon the bird’s
head, I stopped to have a more favourable view of it. But, no
sooner did it discover that it was an object of curiosity, than
it flew off to a considerable distance, and alighted on a hedge ;
here I followed it, and being permitted to approach sufficiently
near to perceive its colours distinctly, I found that the opinion
previously formed of it was perfectly just, the head, neck and
throat being of a pure snowy white, with one or two spots of
madder brown on the top of the head. The rest of the body
in no way differed from ordinary individuals. This remarkable
specimen had no companion, but, as it was a male, it is pos-
sible that its mate may have been sitting, especially as he was
unwilling to fly to any great distance. Unfortunately I had
no gun with me at the time, nor would it have been easy to
have procured one, and therefore with some regret I bade him
adieu. I may remark, that whilst I had been watching this
curious variety, my friend, who was no Ornithologist, had
ridden on, wondering what there could possibly be to gaze
upon at the top of a whitethorn, and his surprise would pro-
bably have been by no means diminished, had I informed him
that I had been “‘ gazing” at so common a bird as the Yellow
Bunting. :

Though it has been observed, that this species commonly
congregates in large flocks at the close of autumn, yet this js
not always the case. For the last few years, mild open win-
ters have been in fashion, and, in this neighbourhood, the Yel-

THE YELLOW BUNTING. 303

low Buntings have become considerably less sociable during
the dreary seasons ; extensive groups of them being much less
frequently observed than formerly, though considerable num-
bers sometimes meet in the farm yards, as a rallying point,
where they pick up corn amongst the Fowls, or gather it at the
fountain-head, from the stacks. But even these latter now
suffer comparatively little; for as long as the ground is clear
from snow and frost, they usually prefer seeking their food in
the fields.

The Yellow Bunting is one of those birds which frequently
remain in pairs throughout the year; during the past winter,
and likewise the preceding ones, I have mostly met with it in
pairs, or sometimes in parties of from five to eight—doubtless
the parents and the young brood of the previous year. In-
deed, when they do assemble in large flocks, it is probable
that the pairs for the most part keep together, as I have ob-
served amongst wild Ring Ducks (Anas boschas, Linn.). I
have found that though the latter congregate in great numbers
in winter, yet that each male knows his own female, and
attaches himself to her, the same pair thus breeding together
each succeeding year. And the same holds good amongst
tame Ring Ducks; for although the domesticated male will
attach himself to eight, ten, or more females, yet he invariably
singles out one female as his special favourite, even though
they may be kept amongst a large troop of Ducks; and the
same may possibly take place amongst Yellow Buntings.

304 THE REED BUNTING.

Reep Buntine, Emberiza scheniculus, Linn.

And sweet it is by lonely meres
To sit, with heart and soul awake,
Where water-lilies lie afloat,
Each anchored like a fairy boat
Amid some fabled elfin lake:
To see the birds flit to and fro
Along the dark-green reedy edge;
Or fish leap up to catch the fly ;
Or list the viewless wind pass by,
Leaving its voice amid the sedge.
Mary Howitt.

Synonyms.—Passer arundinaceus, TURNER.—Passer torquatus, WILL. Orn.—
Ray’s Syn.—Briss. Orn.*—Emberiza scheeniculus, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind.
Orn.—TEMM. Man. d’Orn.—SELBy’s Br. Orn.—Emberiza arundinacea, GMEL.
Linn.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Emberiza passerina, LATH. Ind. Orn.—GMEL. Linn.
—Reed Bunting, Mont. Orn. Dict.—SELBY’s Br. Ovn.—Passerine Bunting,
LATH. Syn.t
Tue Reed Bunting, though plain and unassuming in its man-

ners and plumage, is scarcely inferior in beauty and elegance to

the preceding species, the jetty black head of the male, its ring
of white round the neck, and the tasteful distribution of the
tints in every part, being lovely in the extreme, and few of our
more gifted songsters can, in my opinion, vie with it in the
richness of its colouring, though their plumage may be brighter
and more striking ; and a fine male, of the second year, stand-
ing erect on the tops of the reeds and sedges, is certainly a most
beautiful sight, and highly gratifying to the Ornithologist.

The females, however, are of much plainer hues, and wholly

destitute of the black crown of the male, but are, nevertheless,

handsome birds. The young resemble the female in most re-

* Tt must be owned that these synonyms from TuRNER, WILLUGHBY, Ray,
and Brisson, are ridiculous enough; and they are only given to rectify the mis-
take made by SELBy, in quoting them.

+ Passerine Bunting and E. Passerina are synonyms of the young male and
adult female.

THE REED BUNTING. 305

spects, but are a trifle smaller, and not so matron-like ; nor do
the males acquire their full beauty until the spring of the second
year, when their plumage attains the tints above described.
The Buntings have always been great favourites with me, and
though I am more or less partial to all our singing birds—and
who is not ?—yet I know no birds whose habits and appear-
ance interest me more than those of the Buntings. The Night-
ingale, the Fauvets, the Reedlings, the Finches, the Siskins,
&c., are all lovely in their way, yet there is a peculiar charm
about those familiar and homely creatures, the Buntings.

This species, like the two previous ones, is resident and
abundant in every part of the kingdom, being met with, equally
plentifully, in the north of Scotland and the south of England.
But though it is distributed over the whole of Britain, yet, from
the nature of its favourite haunts, it is perhaps more local ; and
I have reason to know, that in some parts of England, it does
not occur at all. It frequents the borders of lakes and sedgy
streams, and likewise rushy grounds and osier beds, but is less
partial to ponds and sluicy marshes. On the banks of the Dove,
and in nearly all the sheltered rushy streams in the neighbour-
hood, especially where a hedgerow rises beside the rivulet, it
is extremely common, and appears to be familiar to the most
ordinary observer, by the vulgar provincial name of “ Reed
Sparrow,” which has, very judiciously, been abandoned by all
modern writers.

But, plentiful though it be in most parts of England, I have
found it to be less known to unornithological persons than
either the Corn or the Yellow Buntings, on account of its more
sequestered habits, though it is by no means a hidling bird.
The two preceding species are commonly met with in the hedges
and highways, where it is impossible for individuals passing
along the road, to overlook them. But the Reed Bunting is
seldom seen here, remaining, for the most part, in the low wet
grounds, where they are observed by the Naturalist alone. It
is, however, far from being a true inhabitant of soft oozy
marshes, and it is considerably less shy than most quagmire

<

306 THE REED BUNTING.

birds, nothing being easier than to approach within two or
three yards of them, especially in the breeding season, when
the male is singing in the vicinity of the nest; and thus its
economy is open to the observation of all who take an interest
in these pursuits.

But, notwithstanding its abundance, and the ease with which
a knowledge of its habits may be obtained, much confusion has
arisen in the accounts of authors, from want of that accuracy
which is so essential in the practical part of Natural History.
Thus both its song and its nest have frequently been mistaken,
by the earlier Ornithologists, for those of the Reedlings (Sali-
caria, SELBY), a group with which the Buntings have no man-
ner of affinity or analogy. With regard to the song, we shall
first have occasion to speak. The notes of the Reed Bunting
have almost invariably been described—by authors who doubt-
less never heard them—as sweet and varied in the extreme,
having taken their description from the Marsh Reedling. Others
again, hearing that this statement was incorrect, mention it as
harsh and monotonous, which, according to my observation, is
equally erroneous; and it surprises me not a little, on referring
to SeBy’s Illustrations, to find this author favouring the latter
opinion.

The strains of this handsome bird are perfectly familiar to
me, having had constant opportunity of listening to them at a
time when all other throats were silent, and within a very
short distance of the little musician. Often whilst reposing in
a sultry day towards the end of June, on a moss-grown bank
beside a rippling, sedgy stream, a fine male would start up
from the hedge, and commence his sweet warble, as if pur-
posely for my benefit. And my judgment is, that the song is
far from being varied, consisting only of a single strain, but
then the notes composing that strain are mellifluous and
sweetly blended, having nothing of that stiff, harsh, mono-
tonous, ear-cracking character so peculiar to the oft-repeated
ditty of the other species. If any one will merely take the
trouble of repairing to any rush-grown lowland in his neigh-

THE REED BUNTING. 307

bourhood, I think he will admit my estimate to be a true one.
Let him not, however, expect to be greeted with such a master-
piece as the Brake Nightingale or some of the Fauvets could
furnish. If so, he will most assuredly be disappointed; but if
he be satisfied with an humble song, “ short but sweet,” he
will admire the solitary strain of his black-headed friend.
Like its congeners, it carols on the topmost sprig of a hedge
or low bush, and when its nest is near, it not unfrequently
remains on the same perch for an hour together, amusing its
mate with its simple melody. Nor is it easily disturbed at
such times. Most marsh-frequenting birds dart down into the
midst of the impenetrable brake on the slightest suspicion of
alarm, and remain concealed until the danger is entirely over ;
but you need be in no fear of walking close by the present
species, for he will sing away until you almost fancy you could
lay hold of him, when a sudden but short and graceful flight
conveys him to another sprig, where he will immediately com-
mence afresh.

Widely different, however, is the case if you have a gun or
any other offensive weapon in your hand. All birds can at
once distinguish between the three classes of mortals, as regards
themselves :—I1st. the ordinary observer or “‘ common person ;””
2dly, the harmless observing Naturalist; and 3dly, the cock-
ney sportsman. To the first of these ‘‘three distinct classes,’
most of the feathered race pay little or no attention. Of the
second some species are rather suspicious, being unwilling to be
“gazed at;” and from the third, all flee away or conceal
themselves, with the utmost precipitation and care. And so it
is with the Reed Bunting. If you pass one of these birds in a
hedge, without looking at it, you may approach within two or
three yards of it; if you attempt to watch its habits, it begins
to be alarmed, and flies off while you are yet at some little dis-
tance; but take a gun with you, and conceal it as you will,
you will scarce meet with a single Reed Bunting in the course
of your morning’s walk,—so alive are these little creatures to
their interests, and so well can they provide for their safety.

> a4

308 THE REED BUNTING.

But if you are bent on draining one or a pair of these elegant
birds, you may, nevertheless, find means of outwitting them,
and of taking them unawares. The best method is to seat
yourself amongst some long grass or other tall thick herbage,
and partially conceal yourself, in some reedy ground, beside a
stream which these birds are observed to frequent, laying your
gun down under the grass, so as effectually to cover every part
of it. Here you may perhaps have to wait half an hour or so
on the damp oozy ground, and perhaps after all depart without
seeing a single bird. But, if you are a true Ornithologist and
sportsman, such disappointments will be familiar to you, and
the next morning will find you again at your post. In sum-
mer, you can only hope to obtain two specimens, but in win-
ter a small flock may perhaps approach. If you lie perfectly
still, they will seldom be alarmed, and sometimes I have
known a bold individual come within two yards of my face, as
if I were a curiosity set there to be stared at by every passing
“ Sparrow,” or as a Crow (Corvus) might reconnoitre a man
similarly situated, in hopes of his being carrion. At this mo-
ment, with a double-barrelled gun, considerable execution may
be made amongst the flock. A friend informs me, that he
once obtained twelve with his two barrels, by means of this
stratagem, and though I never used my gun on an occasion of
this kind, yet I have no doubt of its success, having frequently
posted myself amongst the reeds and rushes, with a view of
ascertaining how far it might be practicable. For those who
are desirous of obtaining an intimate knowledge of its habits,
especially if they are short-sighted, this method might be ad-
vantageously employed, though a small pocket telescope would
answer as well.

The nest is composed of dried grass, the stalks of plants, and
a small portion of moss, lined with horse-hair. It is woven on
the exterior somewhat in the manner of those of the other
Buntings, but the structure is less compact, and not so thick
and heavy. The weaving of the outer layer is not so conspicu-
ous as in the nest of the Yellow Bunting, and“none of the

THE REED BUNTING. 309

broad, matting-like substances observable in the architecture
of that species, are found in'the nest of this bird. Most birds
which line their nests with hair at all, select horse-hair for the
purpose, but the Reed Bunting sometimes adds cow-hair, and
I have even seen rabbits’ down, though that only once, and in
the immediate neighbourhood of a rabbit warren, all the inha-
bitants of which were black. This, however, was but a solitary
instance, and was doubtless only resorted to on account of the
scarcity of the common material. Birds will usually employ
those substances which are most abundant and easily obtained,
in the immediate vicinity of the spot chosen for incubation, as
is rendered obvious by observing birds building in confinement.
These commonly make use of the materials which they would
have employed in their native haunts, but, in defect of these,
whatever happens to be most plentiful, or whatever is most
similar to the favourite substance. It is, however, impossible
to take a correct estimate of the habits of the feathered race
from observing them in confinement, as their manners fre-
quently undergo a complete change as soon as they are impri-
soned in the limited space of a common wire cage.

But at no period is the alteration in the habits of caged birds
more obvious than during incubation; and the manner in
which they wili suit themselves to their unnatural state, fully
proves that they have at least some reason, and are not entirely
guided by mere mechanical instinct. Thus, though they usu-
ally form their nests of the same materials as they would have
done in their wild state, and construct them with similar art,
yet, when kept in a very warm room, and furnished with boxes
to breed in, sometimes scarcely any nest will be made, and the
lightest and coolest materials will be used. This I have re-
peatedly found to be the case. Some birds of various kinds
which I used to keep in a warm hall, close to a stove, with
boxes to build in, constructed a very loose nest, just enough to
cover the wood; whilst next year, these selfsame individuals,
situated in a cool and open spot, liable to the constant
changes of the weather, built firm and compact structures, ex-

310 THE REED BUNTING.

actly as they would have done if wild, and with precisely the
same materials. And I believe this will invariably hold good,
with regard to caged birds. Next to these, the species which
frequent the immediate neighbourhood of our dwellings, are
most apt to vary the composition and locality of their architec-
ture; and there is no end to the instances of strange and unac-
customed situations in which these will frame their nests, as a
single glance over the pages of the Magazine of Natural His-
tory, or any other popular work on birds, will clearly point
out. The inhabitants of wild, solitary, and unfrequented spots,
as moors, commons, mountains, &c., are rarely found to vary
their nests in any respect, and these accommodate themselves,
in this particular, to confinement with far greater difficulty
than more domestic species. Many birds, in fact, absolutely
refuse to breed unless they possess their natural conveniences.
Thus the Greenheaded Sheldrake (Tudorna vulpina) has been
kept many years in confinement without attempting to propa-
gate, until, an artificial burrow being provided, they forthwith
tenanted the holes, and proceeded to the business of incuba-
tion, without further delay.* But I have been led further into
this interesting discussion than my limits, and the nature of
the present work, can well justify. Let us, therefore, proceed
with the subject in hand.

The nest is, by many writers, described as being attached
between three reed stems, immediately above the water; but
such authors have most assuredly never seen the nest of the
Reed Bunting ; having, most probably, confounded it with that
of the Marsh Reedling; or else have copied their descriptions
from preceding Ornithologists, without troubling themselves to
ascertain the correctness of what they thus publish to the
world, at fifth or sixth hand. With them such drudgery
appears not only useless, but out of the question. ‘‘ Why,”
they will say, ‘“‘ should we search for facts when we have them
all before us?’ This method of pursuing Natural History,

* See the Rev. EDWARD STANLEVY’S Familiar History of Birds, Vol. ii. p. 193.

THE REED BUNTING. oli:

however, will not do for me, and we will, therefore, leave it to
those feeble minds who are fit for nought else.

_ According to my experience, the present species commonly
constructs its nest in a low bush, at the bottom of a braky
hedge, in a tuft of grass, and likewise amongst rushes, either
in low damp situations, or in the higher grounds, in osier beds,
plantations, or hedges bordering on Jakes and ruuning streams,
where one seldom searches in vain for its humble structure.
It is not, however, always an easy matter to discover its archi-
tecture, as considerable skill is sometimes employed in the
concealment of the little domicile. But the localities in which
it builds, are various; they mostly prefer marshy spots, such
as are frequented by their noisy neighbours the Reedlings, and
although it is far from uncommon to meet with them in the
more upland districts, yet they seldom or never encroach on
the peculiar or typical (if I may so speak) haunts of the Corn
and Yellow Buntings. On some occasions, in sequestered and
little-frequented spots, even in the higher grounds, it builds in
very open places, and the nest is often visible at some distance,
without the trouble of searching for it. But in meadows,
corn-fields, and localities in the neighbourhood of our dwell-
ings, it often requires a long and close search to discover it;
and so successfully is it sometimes concealed, that I have spent
hour after hour, for several successive days, and have at last
failed in finding it, or have only rooted it out by carefully cut-
ting away all the surrounding tangled herbage, and briars, at
the bottom of which it was safely lodged.

In one instance, particularly, some years ago, when walking
with a friend, I remember seeing two of these birds in an osier
bed, the male perched erect at the summit of a willow stem,
and his mate remaining 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 dart-
ing suddenly about the hedge and willow stems, as if impatient
for our immediate departure ; and their manners were so

al2 THE REED BUNTING.

different from those commonly observed in the species, that
we were convinced there must be a nest thereabouts. I was
well aware of the difficulty of finding its little tenement ina
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 junction of two hedgerows formed a
corner; and we therefore concluded, naturally enough, that in
that spot all their hopes were centred. But a close and minute
investigation of the whole corner, during which time we had
laid the ground completely bare, revealed nothing to us; we
however continued the search, though in a more super-
ficial manner, over about half of the osier bed, which was
divided by a small fish-pond. At length, a full hour after the
commencement of our labours, I hit upon the nest by mere
chance, at exactly the opposite end to that at which the Reed
Buntings had been, and still were, prosecuting their whinings
and manceuvres, 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 their nest; and the stratagem would probably have
succeeded with a less zealous student of Nature. As it was,
all our labours (at least I can answer for myself) were amply
repaid, for I had learned a new fact in the economy of the
species.

Indeed it would appear that this artifice is very commonly
practised by the Reed Bunting, and the faculty which induces
it to do so, must be superior to instinct. It is an occurrence
which I have noticed in a few other species, as the Garden
Ouzel, Sky Lark, &c. In the Chaff Finch I have observed a
somewhat similar circumstance, but not exactly the same. It
is certainly extraordinary for a bird to pretend that its nest is
in a totally different situation from what it really is; and
though I do not mean to say that the stratagem above related is

THE REED BUNTING. ole

always employed, yet in this neighbourhood, where the Reed
Bunting is perhaps persecuted more than any other bird, I have
noticed the circumstance too frequently to admit of a doubt
being entertained on the subject.

On visiting one evening the nest of a Reed Bunting, which
I had discovered the day before, I found the female on her post ;
but no sooner did she observe me, than she skulked off amongst
the briars, and flew away on the other side of the hedge. She
was shortly joined by the male, and both remained at some
little distance, evidently endeavouring to distract my attraction
from the nest. As long as I remained near this, they remained
silent, but as I advanced towards the spot where they had
settled, they began to flutter around me in a very grotesque
manner, letting one wing drop, falling on the ground, and
uttering the low mournful note which they are accustomed to
employ on such occasions. On frightening them, the male
flew off to some distance, but the female renewed her gesti-
culations with double vigour. I was well aware that there
was no nest in or near the place where we were standing, and
therefore I made no search for it. On other occasions, how-
ever, I have repeatedly ransacked spots which, from the ac-
ti8us of the birds, appeared to contain the nest, but without
success ; though I have sometimes found it by accident, at a
considerable distance, when on the point of giving up the
search in despair.

Nevertheless, the nest of the Reed Bunting, as already men-
tioned, is not always thus difficult to discover, nor is the above-
related stratagem for the concealment of it invariably resorted
to. Indeed, from what has fallen under my observation, I
scarcely consider it probable that this is a natural habit of the
bird, but merely an artifice which it has been compelled to
adopt, by the constant robbing and pillaging of its property,
especially in districts where it breeds in the more immediate
vicinity of houses. Thus in the plain or flat portion of Derby-
shire, where it mostly builds in the higher grounds, by the
margins of weedy ponds and lakes, it almost without exception

314 THE REED BUNTING.

employs the artifice above noticed. But towards Ashborne,
and in other hilly parts of the country, where the upland
grounds are too elevated for it, I have observed the nest to occur
only in low marshy localities, either in rush-grown tracts, or in
braky woods and hedge-rows bordering on streams, or even on
stagnant pools. And here the structure is framed in any tuft
of rushes, or at the bottom of a hedge, with little or no care in
the concealment of it; and for the obvious reason that these
wet oozy tracts hold forth but few attractions to the bird-
nesting schoolboy, just escaped from the ‘‘ mysteries of rurzw,”
or indeed to any one else; therefore the birds which frequent
such situations, have little to fear from man, and act accord-
ingly.

Indeed we have many similar instances, of birds altering
their habits to circumstances, as well in individual cases as
with whole species. All my readers must remember the ac-
count WILson gives of an American Swallow, which formerly
built in the holes of trees, but which, since numbers of woods
have been levelled, and houses placed in their stead, have aban-
doned their ancient haunts, and now lodge their nests under
the eaves of houses and similar places. I write this from re-
collection, and therefore the minutie of the case may not be
correctly stated, but the spirit of it is. Occurrences of a si-
milar nature are likewise recorded of various British birds, and
I may refer my readers to one towards the end of the second
volume of Stantey’s Familiar History of Birds,* relating to
some member of the Gull family (Laride), the circumstances
of which cannot conveniently be introduced here, though the
instance is a striking case in point. From what has been said
of the haunts of the Reed Bunting, it will be perceived, that
they are about on a level, in all parts of the country; being

# [ have elsewhere expressed a favourable opinion of this little work. I may,
however, be allowed to notice one great objection to it, namely, that the author
seldom acknowledges whence he has obtained his information, especially where
this is taken from ornithological works. This may escape the observation of the
tyros for whom the volumes are intended, but it will not pass unnoticed with
the Ornithologist.

THE REED BUNTING. 315

chiefly the lower grounds in elevated districts, and vice versd.
But of course it is not to be understood that this is an inva-
riable rule, and without exceptions ; for various circumstances,
and more especially changes of climate, and abundance or
scarcity of food, will often combine to drive them from their
favourite and peculiar localities.

With regard to the propagation of this beautiful and inte-
resting bird, the eggs alone remain to be described. Like those
of the preceding Buntings, to which they bear a considerable
resemblance, they are usually streaked, instead of spotted or
blotched, as is the case with the eggs of most birds. The
ground colour is a kind of chocolate, but they differ much in
intensity. They cannot well be mistaken for those of the
Yellow Bunting, being somewhat inferior in size, and less
elliptical; the lightest specimens are, moreover, of a darker
hue than any of the Yellow Bunting’s that I ever saw, and
many are of a purplish brown. They are four or five in num-
ber, and I think I never remember to have seen so few as three,
when the set was completed. In this, as in most other parti-
culars, it differs essentially from the Yellow Bunting, which as
often lays three eggs as four or five. The streaks are of a
dark reddish purple, some being so fine as to be scarcely
visible, whilst others are thick and heavy, or terminate in
blotches. But in this respect an endless variety is observable,
and it would be absolutely impossible to attempt to give a ge-
neral description of the egg from any one individual. They
may, however, easily be noted with sufficient accuracy for all
practical purposes, and I do not think an attentive observer
could mistake them for those of any other bird.

In exposed situations, and when the nest is much frequented
and disturbed, the young quit it early, or sometimes, if sud-
denly approached before they are completely fledged, the whole
brood rushes out, each individual making off as well as it can.
Occasionally one will be intercepted by an intervening branch,
and there remain concealed, or if they reach the ground in
safety, they lie so still and close, that half-an-hour’s search

316 THE REED BUNTING.

will frequently not find you in possession of a single indivi-
dual. But, should you particularly desire to capture them,
this may be effected by sheltering yourself behind a bush,
until the parents return ; as soon as the latter commence lead-
ing them away, is the time for issuing forth, and rushing,
“‘hat in hand, to the capture.” If I may be allowed to judge
from a single individual of this species, which I once kept in
confinement, I should pronounce the Reed Bunting to be a
lively and interesting cage bird. Mine, however, had but just
dropped its nestling quills when it came into my hands, having
been captured in the manner related above; and was of course
destitute of the jetty black which adorns the head of the male,
after the spring of the second year; but the shape of the bird,
whatever be its tints, is always elegant, and its manners
pleasing.

In a small Canary* cage, it frequently becomes dull, or else
flutters inordinately against the wires, spoiling the beauty of
its plumage, and especially of its long tail. It thrives best in
an aviary, or large airy cage, but prefers being alone, or in
company with those of its own species. It should be furnished
with a large basin of water, and fresh rushes and other aquatic
plants to which it is most partial, should be frequently sup-
plied, together with the seed-tops of any kinds of grasses, on
which it may be preserved almost without any other food ;
though it is fond of hemp, canary, rape, rice, poppy, sunflower,
and many other seeds, which it cracks with the greatest ease.
It washes frequently, but, I believe, never dusts, as the House
Sparrow, the Larks, and the Hedge Dunnock, are well known
to do; but, after a meal on seeds, I have often seen it pick up
small stones, both in confinement and at large. The nob in
the bill is by no means so distinctly marked or so large as in
the Corn and Yellow Buntings, nor indeed can it be considered

* In the case of the ‘* Canary-bird,’’ I am compelled to depart from my usual
plan of employing a generic and specific English name, not being aware in what
genusit ranks. It is nearly related to the Grosbeaks (Coccothraustes), but cannot
be included amongst them.

THE REED BUNTING. 51 |

a typical species. In no British individual of the genus is this
so obvious as in the Corn Bunting; in the Yellow Bunting
less so; and I much doubt whether a common observer could
determine the present species to be a Bunting from this parti-
cular. Of course it is perfectly visible when closely examined,
but not at a distance.

Dr. Liverpoot informs me that he has had a pair in confine-
ment upwards of five years, but that they have never attempted
to build, although reared from the nest, and supplied with every
convenience for the purpose. I have, however, heard of its
breeding in a small cage, and under very remarkable circum-
stances, namely, a female of this species paired to a male
Yellow Bunting. Both these birds were reared by hand, having
been taken from the nest when scarcely a week old. For about
two years they were kept together in a small cage, and on the
spring of the third year of their life, the female laid an egg on
the ground. This being observed, a box was fixed at one side
of the cage, and the nest of some bird put in, as there would
not have been time for the birds to build one themselves. Next
morning, the Reed Bunting, after some pulling and tugging at
its newly-gotten nest, settled herself in it and laid another egg.
In a few days, the nest contained four eggs, and then the fe-
male began to sit. In due time the young appeared, and were
fed entirely by the female, on hard egg, insects, and meat
chopped small, to which were afterwards added the seeds of
grasses and other plants, though not until the brood had quitted
the nest. During the whole proceeding, the Yellow Bunting
took no part in the affairs of the female, and indeed he had
never appeared to take much notice of his mate; and now that
his children were coming out into the world, he looked upon
them with rather an evil eye, constantly fluttering against the
wires of his confined prison,—which he had never before been
known to do.

But the careful mother fully made up for this indifference on
the part of her husband, attending to the wants of the nestlings
with the most indefatigable perseverance, and feeding them for

318 THE REED BUNTING.

months after they had learned to perch. It is now ten months
since these birds were hatched, and three of them are still alive
and flourishing. They bear considerable resemblance to female
Reed Buntings, but the males—of which there are two—have a
good deal of yellow about the head and neck. They are yet in
their minority (at least as regards the plumage of the Reed
Bunting), but I should imagine the males will never acquire
any black on the head. Of the four which were hatched, one
—probably a female—died about six months ago, and was sent
to me stuffed, for inspection. I have since seen the other three,
which were allowed to fly about a small room, with their two
parents. I suggested to their owner, that the old birds should
be caged in March, in order to ascertain whether they would
breed again; when I saw them, the Reed Bunting and the
three young birds were very partial to each other’s company,
and it struck me that the female, if left in the room, would
prefer attaching herself to one of the young males, to again
pairing with the ‘‘ old and cold” Yellow Bunting, though it is
impossible to say whether or not these mules would prove pro-
ductive. At present it would seem that they have no song, nor
are they likely to acquire one. The call-note which | heard,
was similar to that of the Yellow Bunting. At a future oppor-
tunity, I may possibly have further particulars to communicate
to my readers, on this subject.

Most of the above information has been supplied by a gen-
tleman residing in this neighbourhood; I do not feel myself at
liberty to disclose his name, and indeed he especially begged
me to give the whole in my own words, which has accordingly
been done ; though I could not possibly have published it as
my own, as suggested by my friend. One of the male birds
has, I believe, lately been presented to Pu1t1p AsuTon, Esq.,
of Cambridge, the other two still remaining in the possession
of the friend who transmitted their history to me.

The circumstance of two distinct species of Bunting breeding
together, is certainly remarkable, and, so far as I am aware,
there is not another instance of it on record. A still more ex-

THE REED BUNTING. 319

traordinary circumstance, however, is the pairing of the Reed
Bunting and House Sparrow, which is said to have taken place,
though I do not know that there is any well authenticated men-
tion of it. Almost any of the British Fringillide will attach
themselves to the Canary, and, this being the case, there is no
reason why a union should not be effected between species be-
longing to the same genera. And probably there would be no
barrier to it, if the experiment were made. The crosses and dou-
ble crosses with the Canary, Common Goldwing (Carduelis
elegans, StePu.), Whin Linnet (Linaria cannabina, SWAINS.),
and other abundant and well-known species, are endless ; but
others, as the Buntings, &c., though lively and handsome in
the extreme, pass unheeded by the bird-catchers and fanciers.
It would be a curious matter, for any one fond of keeping birds
in confinement, to try various experiments in this line; nor
would it be a mere object of curiosity, as circumstances of this
nature might, if judiciously and scientifically made, tend to
elucidate many points of classification. For my own part, I
far prefer observing the endless variety of habits displayed by
the feathered race in the haunts to which each are adapted, to
seeing them pent up in little wire prisons, where their sordid
keeper considers one and all to possess precisely the same man-
ners ; and so perhaps they do ina place where they have scarce
room to move. Even when kept in an aviary or room, they
are usually so crowded and surrounded by birds totally distinct
from them, and are compelled to subsist on food so different to
what they would have had at large, that little of their natural
spirit remains ; and no wonder if their lives are short!

That birds might be kept so as to enjoy their unnatural state,
however, is undoubted; and when preserved in commodious
quarters, properly fed, and observed with the keen eye of the
Ornithologist, like the aviaries of Becusre1n, or of my friend
Dr. Liverpoot, much advantage may be derived, though im-
plicit reliance cannot, generally, be placed on habits observed in
caged birds. The only method of observing birds to much ad-
vantage in confinement, is that adopted by Dr. LIVERPOOL.

320 THE REED BUNTING.

He has several small high rooms, without ceilings, entirely de-
dicated to birds, and in each of these, the species most nearly
allied to each other, are alone introduced, and every bird is
supplied with the food, bushes, or even tree, to which it is
found to be most partial in its natural state. This way suc-
ceeds equally well with all birds, British and foreign, which
have hitherto come under Dr. L.’s care, and little or no varia-
tion can be perceived in their habits and economy. With him
almost every species breeds freely, and he has the satisfaction
of liberating, every year, numbers of young birds. Some few
species, it is true, he has been unable to familiarize, or to pre-
serve long, but the number of these is very small, the majority
of his large and prosperous family being remarkably healthy
and long-lived. Many individuals have “ died of mere old
age,” but comparatively few from sickness. The Reed Bunt-
ing, amongst numerous other birds, he has found lively and
amusing; but, as it is part of his plan to keep the species as
separate and distinct as possible, he has as yet made no expe-
riments in cross-breeds.

The food of the Reed Bunting, in its natural state, consists
of the seeds of almost any plant growing in the neighbourhood
of marshes and wet places, and is by no means confined to the
seeds of rushes, as supposed by some authors; these indeed
form a comparatively small portion of its subsistence, as being
by no means procurable at all times or in all localities. But any
small seeds are welcome, and the bird appears very intent while
picking them. Before harvest time, it often joins the Yellow
Bunting and other upland birds in pillaging the corn fields, and
a severe, protracted frost will induce it to borrow a few grains
from the farmer’s abundance, but on the whole it is decidedly
beneficial. It is much more insectivorous than the Corn and
Yellow Buntings, and frequently feeds on insects, but not very
abundantly except in the breeding season. The quantity of
corn it devours is very inconsiderable, especially as it is seldom
met with in large flocks, and the noxious insects and no less
hurtful seeds, which form so large a proportion of its daily fare,

THE REED BUNTING. 321

more than atone for its petty granivorous offences ; and accord-
ingly the farmers and labourers (in this neighbourhood at least)
never view it with an evil eye, nor do they appear at all desirous
of destroying it, notwithstanding its popular designation of
** Reed Sparrow.” Indeed it is difficult to imagine how so ele-
gant and handsome a bird, could ever get branded with the
same name as that pert, noisy and ill-bred fellow, everywhere
~known as the Sparrow.

The young remain a considerable time with their parents,
sometimes till the ensuing spring. They pass the night in wet
marshy tracts, amongst rushes, or in water-meadows, but do
not lie close together, a small flock sometimes scattering itself
over an acre of ground. During the day they frequent the mar-
gins of running waters, where they are easily observed hunting
for their food, one standing erect on the topmost spray of a
hedge, some fluttering amongst the bushes, and others clinging
on the under side of a twig, or attaching itself to a reed or
willow stem, where it perches with facility, often assisting its
motions with its tail. When approached cautiously, it gene-
rally continues its avocations, but when suddenly disturbed, by
a prowling sportsman or stone-throwing thoughtless school-
boy, the little family takes a simultaneous flight, either up or
down the stream, or else betakes itself to a meadow or bed of
reeds, where eacn drops amongst the herbage, and usually re-
mains quiet until the danger be over. But should they be
traced to this hiding place, they once again take flight (whilst
their disappointed enemy is seeking for them in the grass),
sometimes returning to the spot from whence they had been
originally started.

For my own part, I have.never been at a loss to know how
to approach these interesting little creatures; and to shoot
them—were I so inclined—would at all times be an easy mat-
ter. But I have known individuals, unacquainted with their
habits, hunt about for them a whole evening, without succeed-
ing in shooting a single bird; for although the Reed Bunting
seldom flies far, yet it can discern an enemy at a considerable

¥

322 THE REED BUNTING.

distance, and flies off to some sheltered spot, where, if pursued,
it either flits on and on by degrees, or travels backwards and
forwards between two favourite haunts,—a method which,
while it seldom fails to annoy and discourage the gunner,
proves an almost certain safeguard to itself. This manner of
escaping from danger I have myself repeatedly witnessed; and
it has likewise this advantage, that while many other birds
may be driven “‘ over the hills and far away,”’ the Reed Bunting
always remains at home. The Garden Ouzel, for instance, if
chased along the hedges, will fly for miles out of its usual
territory, and, though an easy flight will at all times convey it
back in a short time, yet the Reed Bunting’s clever mode is
certainly superior to it.

I now close this long, and I fear tedious, biography of one
of my ‘“‘ prime favourites ” amongst the British songsters, with
a few observations from the pen of J. D. Sautmon, Esq., of
Thetford, Norfolk, in a letter dated February 6, 1836 :—

““ You appear to think that the name Reed Bunting is very
appropriate (see Analyst, vol. ii. p. 239). Now I consider
that used by Bewicx (Blackheaded Bunting) much better, for,
according to my experience, it is anything but a reed bird. I
have generally found its nest situated on the side of a hassock
(Carex paniculata) or one of the allied species (see Mag. Nat.
Hist. vol. viii. p. 505). Its principal resort in this district is
by the sides of rivers, ditches, and other wet places. If the
haunts or nidification are to determine the specific name, I
should call it the Carex Bunting; for when it is taken into con-
sideration that there are sixty-three species of Carex, and only
a solitary species of the Arundo, I think it is going too far to
name it after the latter. I make no doubt but those unac-
quainted with Botany, often confound the sedges and rushes
(Juncus) with the reed, in their descriptions. For these rea-
sons I certainly prefer Bewicn’s name, and as his inestimable
work is in the hands of so many individuals, I would not wil-
lingly alter the English specific name, unless a good reason is
given. For, after all, they must be in a great measure pro-

THE REED BUNTING. 323

vincial, and, bearing in mind that where there is one scientific
Naturalist residing in a district, there are an hundred others
who only know the birds by their provincial names, I think
these names should not be altered on slight considerations.
With regard to the Latin specific appellations, they are the
immediate province of the scientific Ornithologist, and must
necessarily, as science advances, be subject to various changes.”

The appellation Blackheaded Bunting is, certainly, quite as
appropriate (considering British birds alone) as that adopted
in this work, but I cannot perceive that it has any advantages
over Reed Bunting. Both appear to me equally good, and it
is difficult to say which is most widely known. But as the
greater number of modern Ornithologists have adopted the
latter, I have followed their example. Carex, or rather Sedge,
Bunting, is also an unobjectionable designation; but as Reed
is not intended to apply to any particular species of plant, but
rather to almost every kind of herbage growing in marshes,
the term cannot be discarded on this account, though of course
in a scientific description, it is of the greatest importance to
keep the distinction between the drundo and the various spe-
cies of Carer.—Brwicx’s History of British Birds is only va-
luable on account of its unrivalled wood-cuts, and is no au-
thority in matters of science.

I never saw or heard of any varieties of the Reed Bunting,
and it is probable, from the nature of its haunts, that such are
of extremely rare occurrence, though the plumage differs some-
what with age and other circumstances.

324 THE CIRL BUNTING.

Cirt Buntine, Emberiza cirlus, Linn.

Synonyms.—Emberiza cirlus, LINN. Syst.—LatTH. Ind. Orvn.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.
—Emberiza elcathorax, Becust. Naturg. Deut.—Cirl pi LATH. Syn.—
Mont. Orn. Dict.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.

Tue Cirl Bunting never occurs within the range of my
observation, and I regret my consequent inability to say any-
thing novel or original on the species. I shall, however, make
little apology for having recourse to Monracu’s admirable
Ornithological Dictionary, as I conceive that by so doing, I
shall only be giving in the words of that author, what others
would have offered in their own, and perhaps on their own
authority. Which is the fairest and most honourable mode of
proceeding, I leave my readers to determine.

«« The length of this species is six inches and a half; weight
about seven drams. The bill is of a bluish lead-colour above,
paler beneath ; irides hazel. The crown of the head, nape of
the neck, and upper part of the breast, is of a fine olive-green,
the first streaked with dusky ; from the upper mandible through
the eye, a dusky stroke; above and beneath the eye a bright
yellow one; throat black, slightly tipped with brown, running
into a bar under the yellow on the cheek; beneath this is a
gorget of beautiful bright yellow. The back and scapulars are
of a fine chesnut-brown, the former marked with dusky
streaks, the margin of the feathers with olive; rump olive-
brown; upper tail coverts inclining to chesnut: the smaller
wing coverts olive-green; greater coverts dusky, their outer
webs chesnut brown; greater quills dusky, edged with
green on the exterior webs; smaller quills chesnut, dusky
down their middle. Across the breast is a band of ches-
nut, mixed with yellow ; belly and under-tail coverts yellow,
the latter dusky on the shafts; sides more inclining to brown ;
the under-wing coverts bright yellow ; the two middle feathers
of the tail chesnut-brown, the rest black, except the two exte-
rior on each side, which have an oblique bar of white from the
tip half way; and the outmost feather is white throughout

THE CIRL BUNTING. 325

the whole of the exterior web; the legs are brown; claws
dusky.

*« The female, in general, weighs half a dram less than the
male. The upper part of the head is olivaceous brown, streaked
with dusky; over the eye a dull yellow streak, passing down
the side of the head; cheeks brown, on which is a yellowish
spot; on each side of the lower mandible is a broken streak of
dusky, passing downwards ; chin and throat dull yellow, the
latter streaked with dusky ; the back part and sides of the neck
and breast olivaceous-brown, with dusky streaks; belly and
sides pale yellow, with large dusky streaks on the latter; the
upper part of the body and wings like the other sex, but the
colours less bright.

“« We first discovered this species near Kingsbridge, in the
winter of 1800, not uncommon amongst flocks of Yellow
Buntings and Chaff Finches, and procured several specimens
of both sexes, killed in different places six or seven miles from
that place. They are indigenous to Devonshire, but seem to
be confined to the southern parts of that county contiguous to
the coast, having found them extending as far as Teignmouth,
at both which places we found their nests ; but have never ob-
served them far inland. It generally builds in furze, or some
low bush; the nest is 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, cinereous white, with irregu-
lar long and short curved dusky lines, terminating frequently
with a spot at oneend; size rather inferior to those of the
Yellow Bunting, to which it bears great resemblance. These
birds pair in April, and begin laying early in May. Insects
we found to be the favourite food of the young, especially the
common grasshopper. When they could peck, small seeds,
particularly canary, were acceptable. Oats they greedily de-
voured, after dexterously depriving them of the outer husk.
The monotonous song of the male was incessant, shrill, and
piercing ; so much resembling the vociferous call notes of the
Garrulous Fauvet, that it requires considerable knowledge of

326 THE CIRL BUNTING.

their language not to mistake the one for the other. We are
assured by Mr. Austin, that he shot a male of this species, in
1803, near Bridgewater, and in April, 1805, we observed a
pair between Bridgewater and Glastonbury. Another speci-
men, in the collection of Col. GzEorGE of Penryn, was shot
near that place. According to continental authors, it is abun-
dant in the warmer parts of France, in Italy, and on the
shores of the Mediterranean; but is not found in the colder
regions.

«« The female might readily be mistaken for that sex of the
Yellow Bunting at a little distance, but is materially different
when compared, especially in the chesnut-colour of the upper
parts of this bird. The note is simple and plaintive, similar to
that of the Yellow Bunting, but shorter, not so shrill, and the
latter part not drawn out to such a length.

“« It is remarkable that so common a bird as the Cirl Bunt-
ing seems to be in the West of England, should have so long
escaped the notice of British Naturalists; but in all probabi-
lity this has been occasioned by their locality. It is said to be
only found on the continent in the warmer parts of France and
Italy; so with us it seems confined to the mildest parts of
England; but the winter of 1800, which was severe in Devon-
shire, did not force them to seek a warmer climate, but, on the
contrary, they continued gregarious with other small birds,
searching their food amongst the ploughed lands.”’

The only specimen of the Cirl Bunting I ever saw, was that
in the British Museum, and which was probably presented by
Montacu. It greatly resembles the Yellow Bunting, and,
being more nearly allied to that species than to the Reed Bunt-
ing, they should be placed together in the system. This, how-
ever, I leave to the erudite in such matters, having at present
little to do with system, though on a future occasion I may
perhaps be induced to publish my opinions on the subject.

THE ORTOLAN BUNTING. 327

OrtToLaAN Buntine, Emberiza hortulana, Linn.

SyNoNyMs.—Emberiza hortulana, LInN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—SELBY’s Br.
Orn.—Emberiza chlorocephala, GMEL. Linn.—Emberiza Tunstalli, Latu. Ind.
Orn.—Ortolan Bunting, PENN. Arct. Zool.—LATH. Syn.—SELBy’s Br. Orn.—
Greenheaded Bunting, LATuH. Syn.—LEw. Birds of Brit.—BEW. Br. Birds.

THE synonyms appended to the history of this bird, will
sufficiently identify the species, and a minute description will
not be necessary for those who possess the works above
referred to, where it is either described or figured. It would
appear that only two or three specimens, met with at distant
periods, have occurred in Britain.

SELBY says :—‘“‘ In Italy, where it is very common, and in
parts of France, it is highly esteemed for its fatness and the
flavour of its flesh. It breeds in thickets, corn-fields, low
hedges, &c., and lays four or five eggs of a greyish-white,
tinged with a pinkish black, and marked with streaks or veins
of brown.—It feeds on millet and other grain, and in summer
(previous to the ripening of the grassy seeds) on insects and
larve, on which the young are also principally reared. Ac-
cording to TEMMINCK, this species is subject to great variations
of plumage, specimens being occasionally met with entirely
white ; others with a great admixture of that colour; and some
again of a uniform blackish-brown, which he attributed to
their feeding upon hemp-seed, a diet known to have the same
effect upon Hedge Coalhoods, and other Fringillide, when
kept in a state of confinement.”

It would be useless to give a detailed and dry description of
the plumage of this species, as that may be found in any com-
pilation. Suffice it to say, that, according to SeLy, it closely
resembles the female Yellow Bunting, and might be mistaken
for it by a casual observer.

328 THE HOUSE SPARROW.

Susram. II].—FRINGILLAN&, Swarns.
Genus PASSER, Avucr. SPARROW.

House Sparrow, Passer domesticus, ALDROV.

Ye cupids, close your silky wings,
Drop from your heads the festive curl;
Let freely flow the lucid pearl,
That from the heart of sorrow springs;
My Lesbia’s bird no longer sings ;
He’s gone, the favourite of my girl!
Anonymous.

Synonyms.—Passer domesticus, WILL, Orn.—BrIss. Orn.—SELBY’s Br, Orn.—
Fringilla domestica, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn. House Sparrow, Mont.
Orn. Dict,—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—N. Woon’s Orn. Tezt-book.

Few birds are so common or so universally met with as the
pert, mischievous, thieving House Sparrow. It occurs abun-
dantly in all the cultivated and inhabited parts of Britain,
frequenting alike the noisy and dusty streets of towns and
cities, villages, and the neighbourhood of houses of all kinds,
regardless whether the inmates be lords or peasants. Every
farm in the kingdom swarms with them, and we shall presently
come to discuss whether, on the whole, it may be considered
beneficial or hurtful to the farmer; in the meantime let us
consider the haunts and habits peculiar to the species.

The House Sparrow has never been a favourite with me,
and, looking at its bold, vulgar and impudent aspect, one
would scarce imagine it to rank in the same family as the
Common Goldwing, the Hedge Coalhood, the Buntings, or
in short, with any of the other British Fringillide. Indeed
its ‘“‘ radically plebeian” manners go very far to justify the
train of maledictions poured upon its hapless head by the
eloquent and illustrious, but faulty Burron. It everywhere
carries with it a bad reputation, though of course its ex-

THE HOUSE SPARROW. 329

tensively frugivorous propensities, and its voracious appetite,
weigh infinitely more—and perhaps justly—with the multitude
than any defects in plumage, manners, or even voice. Where-
ever man is (in our own country at least), there will be his
constant and inseparable attendant, the House Sparrow, and
vice versd. A single cottage, however humble, situate in the
midst of a lonely forest, in a fertile vale, or a bleak common,
will have its House Sparrows; so likewise will the more:
aristocratic mansion of the squire, the farm, the rick-yard, the
village, and the city, each in proportion to its size, and the
wealth of its inhabitants. For let not the haughty lord of the
Creation suppose that his plebeian friend or enemy—call him
which you please for the present—thus vigilantly hunts him
out for mere love of his company, but rather to partake of his
plenty or his scarcity, just as the case may be.

This familiar and detested creature is by far the most plentiful
in the immediate vicinity of farms, and here, especially if there.
be ivy-clad walls and other conveniences in the neighbourhood,
it flocks by hundreds, and probably by thousands, where the
premises are extensive. Every little farm in this county teems
with them, at all seasons and in all weathers. It is likewise
a constant frequenter of large breweries, or of gentlemen’s
houses, where it is the fashion to brew at home, for the sake
of the sweet and luscious “ grains,” which are periodically
ejected from the brewhouse, and which serve to feed many a
hungry bird (and beast too to boot, for I have seen rats and
mice filling their bellies with them), ere they reach their final
destination. In large open fields and lawns it is seldom met
with,—in barren, stony, uninhabited commons never. The
former, however, it may be induced to frequent under some
circumstances, and more especially when they are undergoing
the manuring process, or for a short period before harvest-time.
With these exceptions, it clings close to the houses, or to trees
and bushes near houses, and, rather than quit them when sud-
denly disturbed, it will take refuge in holes of trees and walls,
and amongst thatched roofs, on the slightest suspicion of danger.

330 THE HOUSE SPARROW.

From these strong-holds, it would, I believe, be no easy matter
to drive it, especially as it is so shy and cunning as to be well
able to protect itself, in most cases, from its numerous enemies.

If only song birds found their way into this little volume,
the House Sparrow, with all its impertinence and wily tricks,
had never been admitted here. They are, as every one knows,
or should know (for I would not stand up for the ornitho-
logical knowledge of John Bull), even less gifted, as regards
musical abilities, than the Buntings, their only notes being a
kind of chatter, and an incessantly-repeated and tiresome
‘“‘yelp;” the latter is by far the most favourite note with it,
the other being chiefly employed by the male, especially when
he is impatient for the departure of some prying individual from
his nest or feeeding-ground. The chatter, though there is
nothing particular about it, might easily be borne as a warm
and comfortable sound (so to speak); but its ‘‘ yelping con-
certs,” as they are well termed by Renniz,* are an intolerable
nuisance, and for this offence alone, I should, without the
smallest objection, see the bird exterminated from the land,
though I would myself steer clear of the bloody deed. Often-
time, on a beautiful July morning, when one’s happiness might
have been complete, as far as it can be so in this nether world,
and the choristers of the groves were carolling their joyous lays
in the distance, with the rich deep strains of the Garden Ouzel
resounding through the garden, a parcel of rude House Sparrows
would settle on a neighbouring tree, and, scrambling and
sprawling up and down the sprays, commence their barbarous
jumble, all chirping together, and each apparently endeavouring
to outdo the other, in their unceremonious gabblings. And in
this manner they will frequently remain on the same tree for
an hour together, uttering their single “ yelp.”

So great a disturbance have I occasionally deemed these

# This epithet most admirably denotes the common note of this bird; but I
believe that in this as in other instances, the worthy professor is merely following
up his well-known habits, WILSoNn having employed the same phrase in reference
to an American species.

THE HOUSE SPARROW. 331

noisy convocations, and so entirely discordant do they seem
with the rest of Nature, during the spring and summer months,
that, though perfectly amicably inclined towards the rest of
the feathered race, I have frequently issued forth with a net at
night, and, repairing to the well known roosting places of these
birds, have, with an assistant, taken many dozens in a single
night, not one of which ever yelped again. By day-traps it
is found to be extremely difficult to capture them, and though,
for the sake of experiment I have tried every method I could
devise, yet could I never, by these means, catch a single in-
dividual. But a bat-fowling net, placed against an ivy-clad
wall in which they are observed to roost, makes great havoc
amongst them; though even then they will frequently escape
at the top of the nest, or, when supposed to be perfectly secure
in the tail of the nest, not uncommonly scramble their way
out. Where there are no ivy-clad walls or trees in the
immediate neighbourhood of houses, the surrounding hedges
form roosting-places for the birds, though these are by no
means favourite resorts with them.

The nidification of this species is a remarkable part of its eco-
nomy. The most usual sites of the nest are, under the eaves of
houses, in the thatch of roofs, or in.any kinds of holes in walls
and outhouses. It is by no means particular in the selection of
its locality, but always chooses some warm and cosy nook, pro-
tected from winds and rain. It consists of a mass of hay and
feathers, loosely and carelessly put together, but with an
evident view to warmth and comfort. The thickest thatch is
the most favourite locality ; in dwelling houses, they generally
build underneath the skirts, but in unused outbuildings, the
whole thatch, underneath the roof, is full of holes, and each
contains a nest. From the extreme shyness of the species, it
is no easy matter to observe their architectural proceedings, but
I have occasionally had this gratification. Before this, I had
wondered where the straws, which were extracted, were taken
to; but I found that each straw was carried out singly, and
conveyed away to a considerable distance. In many parts,

oe THE HOUSE SPARROW.

especially where the thatch is thin or worn away, the holes for
the nests are carried through the roof, and where this happens
frequently near the same spot, a large portion of the roof is
sometimes quite open.

In many parts of the country, a large quantity of common
flower-pots are fastened to the walls of outhouses and gardens,
and immediately under the thatch, which, if they are in suffi-
cient number, generally prevent the birds from damaging the
thatch, as the trouble of building in the pots, is infinitely less
than scooping holes in the straw. When the eggs are laid,
these are, without exception, destroyed, but a still better plan
is to wait till the young are hatched, or nearly fledged, as there
is then less chance of the old birds breeding again, which they
will do two or three times after their nests are taken, but never
twice in the same hole. I once knew an instance of a House
Sparrow’s building four times in a single season, and, as this
was effected with the greatest ease, there can be little doubt
but it frequently builds at least three times a year. The method
of ascertaining the circumstance was as follows :—

Very early in the season, I discovered a single domicile,
under the thatched roof of an out-building. I had often ob-
served a bird flying out at a certain hole, and determined to
examine the premises. On thrusting my hand in, a bird flut-
tered in my hand, which, by its strength and thickness, | in-
stantly knew to be a House Sparrow. After tying a little bit
of red ribbon round one of its legs, I suffered it to escape, but
pillaged its nest. For three or four days afterwards, this in-
dividual was observed flying about, amongst a troop of its
companions, and it was at length reported to be building a se-
cond nest in the same outhouse, but in a different hole.
Apprehending that there would be some difficulty in catching it
again, I repaired to the spot after dusk, and made it prisoner
with ease. It had three eggs, which I broke, and again set
the bird at liberty. For three weeks, it was constantly seen
about, when I for the third time observed it building under the
eaves of an adjoining stable. It was now remarkably shy and

THE HOUSE SPARROW. 333

coy, and flew out on the slightest alarm, and every effort of
mine to capture it, proved ineffectual; a servant, however,
brought it to me one day as a “ curiosity,’”’ and five young
birds, nearly fledged, escaped, and were fed by the male, but
were not seen for many days, during which period I had re-
tained the ribboned female in confinement, when for the third
‘time, she got away, through a hole in the cage. Here my ex-
periment closed, or at least so I thought; and I was satisfied
with ascertaining that the species would breed thrice in the
season. I was, however, mistaken, having been informed
that a House Sparrow had been seen at a neighbouring farm,
with a red ribbon. No sooner had I learned this, than I again
renewed my observations on the unfortunate bird, which had
been entirely driven off its old premises. After watching it
three days, I at last traced it to an ivy wall, where there were
dozens of other nests. Here it was out of the question to en-
deavour to catch it, and my experiment of course terminated,
after I had taken the fourth and last nest. About a week or
ten days subsequent to this, I found this self-same House
Sparrow dead in the farm yard, with part of the ribbon still
about its leg.

But at least as favourite localities for building as thatch, are
the eaves of houses, where, however, clusters of nests are never
met with; each individual selecting for itself an establishment
perfectly separate from that of any other. Here the structure
is somewhat firmer and more compact, though the quality of it
depends on circumstances. Holes of walls, in farms, dwelling
houses, or gardens, are likewise often resorted to, and some-
times the nest is situated two or three feet in the wall. On one
occasion, particularly, I remember seeing a pair of House
Sparrows constantly flying in and out of a wall near a dove-cot,
and though I felt in the hole with the full length of my arm, the
tips of my fingers did not reach the nest ; nor could it be ob-
tained by pulling away part of the bricks from the wall. It is
not often that such deep holes are to be had, but when they are,
they are always preferred.

334 THE HOUSE SPARROW.

I once found a nest in a small hole immediately over a pas-
sage, amongst some offices, where servants were constantly
passing and repassing. Having taken out the eggs, six in
number, I replaced them by an equal number of Garden
Thrush’s eggs, which, notwithstanding their large size, were
duly hatched. After this, I visited the spot every day, but
three of the young birds died in succession, having been either
squeezed or starved to death. Two now remained, and I saw
them till they were fully fledged, when they disappeared, and
probably escaped in safety. I was very desirous of seeing how
the young birds were fed, but never succeeding in attaining
this object.

This species likewise frequently builds in Pigeon-houses or
dove-cots; and, though the convenience of the situation is
doubtless the chief incitement, yet the Pigeons themselves ap-
pear to form a considerable part of the attraction ; for wherever
Pigeons are allowed to breed in a few boxes on the side of a
wall, there the House Sparrows are sure to be more numerous
than in any other parts of a farm or dwelling-house, either
building in the Pigeon-boxes themselves, or as near to them as
they can procure lodgings. In dove-cots they commonly build
in the same nests as the Pigeons, which induces me to believe
that the latter never receive any damage from their officious
neighbours, or they would otherwise quickly be sent to the
right-about. According to many writers, the Sparrows open
the crops of the young Pigeons, and devour the contents. Now,
as this serious charge is at present, as far as I know, only re-
ported through the medium of compilers and book-makers, it is
difficult to believe it on that authority. From the well-known
audacity of the bird, the circumstance is by no means impro-
bable, but, so far from confirming it myself, what I have ob-
served only goes to discountenance it. In the first place, either
the male or female Pigeon are almost invariably in the nest until
the young begin to get their first feathers, after which they are
fierce and strong enough to defend themselves ; and secondly,
amongst hundreds of young Pigeons that I have at various

THE HOUSE SPARROW. 335

times examined, of all ages, not one had its crop opened or at all
injured. For these reasons, it appears probable that the House
Sparrow never actually injures the young Pigeons, though I
would by no means answer for the safety of the latter, if left
unguarded for a moment: but this is sufficient to prove, that,
as matters stand, the owners of Pigeons need be in no fear from
this cause.

The eggs, from five to seven or even eight in number, are of
a very pale dirty blue, marked all over with long brownish-
black spots. But nothing is more difficult than either to de-
scribe or figure the eggs of this species, on account of the im-
mense variety which occurs amongst them. Few eggs are
more subject to deviations of colour, and indeed scarcely any
two are precisely similar; even those in the same nest com-
monly exhibiting considerable difference in their tints. The
character of all is, however, so similar, that it is impossible to
mistake them. The ground-colour varies from white to very
dark brown, and the spots alter as materially both in number
and hue. The only characters which are never effaced, are,
size much larger than those of the Green Grosbeak ; form elon-
gated and oblong; spots thickly set, placed in a parallel man-
ner, and usually very dark; Hewirson has figured them in
the British Oology, but as, from various untoward circum-
stances, my copy of this work is now either mislaid or burnt,
(Reader, do not be alarmed!) I am unable to say in what
manner they are there represented or described. Nor can I at
present refer to Monraeu or Sexpy,* and as to the rest of our
worthies, they are far better on the bookseller’s shelf than any
where else.

It is probably familiar to most persons, that this bird gene-
rally breeds two or three times in the course of the season, and
thus the preparations for pairing commence so early as the end

#® In the description of every species, I have referred to SeLBy, and sometimes
to MonTAGU; but, let it be distinctly understood, that these have been opened
merely for the purpose of comparing them with my own notes; and that nothing
has been copied without a direct acknowledgment.

336 THE HOUSE SPARROW.

of February. Their movements at this period are remarkably
interesting, and though, while in flocks during the autumn and
winter, its manners are pert and vulgar in the extreme, they
now become entirely reversed, and if not very chaste and bird-
like, are at least comfortable and pleasing. Each male is then
observed on the top of a roof, spreading out its wings, pluffing
out its plumage, slowly waving its head up and down, bringing
forth its best chirp, and essaying as good a song as it is able to
muster. These proceedings immediately attract the females, the
love-compact is soon sealed, and the happy couple shortly go
to work to select a locality for the nest; this is before long
completed, and in six or seven days the full number of eggs is
laid. The young leave the nest rather late,—usually not until
long after they are fledged, and well able to fly. Scarcely are
these capable of taking care of themselves, when they are at-
tended by the male alone, and the female again prepares for
incubation. But she is soon joined by the male, as the first
brood keeps in a pack, and remains about the premises, haunt-
ing farms and large houses, and roosting at night in ivy-clad
walls or hedges, along with whatever other individuals happen
at that time to be free from family cares. The second and
third batch are managed in the same manner, and it is astonish-
ing in how short atime an immense flock of young birds is
accumulated.

Indeed, although the House Sparrow is not commonly con-
sidered gregarious, yet they are comparatively seldom seen
single, or in pairs. For even the adults, during the period of
incubation, are generally observed in flocks, and whilst the fe-
males are sitting at night, the males roost together in some
adjoining wall; and though they are a good deal about the
nest in the day-time, yet they invariably seek their food in
flocks, and frequent farm and rick-yards in great numbers.

Few birds are more careful of their young than the present
species, and fewer still, of our small birds, take such effectual
means of preserving them. The parents will follow their caged
young to any distance, and, if they happen to be absent at the

THE HOUSE SPARROW. aap

time of the capture, scent them out in an incredibly short
space of time. I remember, on one occasion, caging four young
birds, from a nest in the thatch of a cottage. They were in-
stantly carried off to a distance of about two miles, in the ab-
sence of the parents, and were imprisoned in a small outhouse,
where their cries, if they made any, could not possibly be heard
by the old birds. Scarcely had they been there five minutes,
however, when the parents arrived, and made their way to the
young captives through a broken pane of glass. As soon as
they had been fed and fondled, the parents departed, in search
of more food, as the young birds were by no means satisfied.
I now carried them to quite a different part of the house, and
lodged them in a kind of cellar, with but one small aperture
for light and air. Here they made no noise, but lay perfectly
still, and must have been very hungry. For some hours the
old Sparrows were observed flying about in all directions, in
search of their young. At length I perceived them fly over the
very spot where they were concealed, when the prisoners in-
stantly set up loud cries. This acted like an electric shock
upon them; they dropped down as if ‘‘thunderstruck,” but,
recovering their wings before they reached the ground, a few
minutes found them feeding the young birds, which were now
allowed to escape. This proves how great is the affection of
the House Sparrow for its young, and how sagacious it is in
searching them out when lost.

But, partial as we thus find it to be to building in house-
eaves, walls, and other domestic situations, it often breeds
near the tops of tall bushes and young trees. It would seem,
however, that such localities are only resorted to from ne-
cessity, when every hole and corner about the house is occu-
pied. For by about the middle of the breeding season, every
nest-building convenience is tenanted, and until then I never
remember to have observed any of its tenements in bushes.
But at about that period, this occurrence becomes more fre-
quent, and, as the season advances, the tree-nests continue to

Zz

338 THE HOUSE SPARROW.

increase in number. Their size and architecture are not a little
remarkable. :

It has already been observed, that the species only breeds in
such situations from mere necessity, and, as it is naturally a
wall-builder, the method of constructing the nest must of
course be materially altered, as no structure, framed within a
hole, could possibly stand in the fork of a tree. The materials
are still the same,—a jumbled mass of hay and feathers, the
greater part of the exterior consisting of hay, and the inside
resembling a feather-bed cut down the middle and opened.
The whole is of about the size of that of the Common Gallinule,
and is situated in the cleft of a branch, or where three branches
meet. ‘The largest I ever saw was at the top of a flourishing
beech tree. It was completely covered with foliage, and was
only discovered by the incessant chirping of the young birds.
On climbing the tree, and probing the dwelling, nothing could
be felt, and I concluded that the brood was fully fledged, and
had escaped. But, having thrown it to the ground, I found
four birds just hatched, completely concealed under the fea-
thers. This structure was at least twice as large as an ordi-
nary one of the Common Gallinule. But, though the materials
never vary, the size is greatly subject to deviation; and this
appears to depend chiefly on the nature of the tree or bush on
which it is situated. In oak, elm, beech, or any loose-foliaged
trees, it is of the largest dimensions, but in hollies, boxes, &c.,
considerably smaller. These bush-built nests of course occa-
sion infinitely more labour and trouble to the architects, than
the thatch. For here—except in cases where a new cavity is
to be excavated—nothing more is necessary than to line the
bottom and sides with hay and feathers, which is sometimes in
no great quantity.

Another circumstance, with regard to these two diametrically
opposite modes of building, still remains to be noticed; namely,
that the time occupied in constructing the bush-nests, entirely
prevents their usual number of broods being reared. It will

THE HOUSE SPARROW. 339

be observed, moreover, that such nests are built either by year-
ling birds, which had commenced propagation late, or by
individuals which had already occupied nests in thatch or
holes of walls. In either case, it is impossible that more
than two broods can be raised ;—in the former instance only
one, and in the latter not more than two. Of thisl am
certain, having invariably found that the bush-nests take
up the entire attention of the parents for the rest of the
season. Under any circumstances, the young make an inces-
sant chirping, and the adults become extremely clamorous
when approached, but never endeavour to mislead intruders
from the spot, this being obviously impracticable, from the
very large size of the structure. The young birds resemble
the adult females, but are somewhat smaller. They soon learn
to feed themselves, when they join any flock that may happen
to frequent the neighbourhood. In the spring of the following
year, the males acquire some of the adult plumage, but do not
attain their full beauty till the spring of the second year.

The House Sparrow may be termed an omnivorous feeder, as
it greedily devours almost anything that presents itself. The
greater portion of its sustenance consists of insects, grubs, snails,
and various kinds of animal substances, with which the young
are almost entirely supported. But at harvest-time, and during
the autumn and winter months, it becomes wholly granivo-
rous; and, with all my partiality to the feathered race, I am
compelled to give itas my sincere opinion, that the services per-
formed by the present species, are by no means equal to the in-
juries. The number of insects and grubs which it destroys in
the breeding season, and even partially at other times, is cer-
tainly very great, but then its corn-eating propensities must be
opposed to these benefits; and having compared the two, we
must endeavour to determine, as accurately as possible, whe-
ther, on the whole, the bird is generally beneficial or injurious.

During the early and middle portion of the breeding season,
there can be no doubt but it performs considerable service,
especially in kitchen gardens, and fields in the neighbourhood

z2

340 THE HOUSE SPARROW.

of farms and houses; and at that time neither the birds nor
their nests should be disturbed. But the difficulty is during
the inclement seasons, when insects and animal matters form
little or no portion of its sustenance; and at harvest-time it is
equally granivorous. The only method of mitigating its depre-
dations—for it is impossible to prevent them—is to station boys
at various parts of the fields and rick-yards, to drive them off,
and at night to take them in bat-fowling nets, in hedges, ivy-clad
walls, and similar localities, where they may be captured by the
dozen. I have myself frequently assisted in these nightly ex-
cursions, and have known ninety to have been taken in a single
day. It would almost appear, however, that there is no end of
these voracious plunderers; for very frequently, after many
dozens have been killed every day for a fortnight, the sur-
rounding fields and farms abound with them to the same extent
as prior to the capture.

It is well known to every schoolboy, that it is extremely
difficult, if not impossible, to take a single bird in any kind of
day-trap; but by night-nets, as we have already found, they
may be destroyed in immense numbers; it is, however, ques-
tionable, whether much advantage is derived from such a pro-
ceeding ; for, unless a price were set on their heads, in every
part of the kingdom, the birds would immediately be replaced.
The only method, therefore, is to keep the plunderers from the
premises ; and this it is impossible to effect so as entirely to
prevent their depredations. Taking all these circumstances
together, the House Sparrow cannot be otherwise than detri-
mental to the interests of man. By the men of science and the
agriculturists of the last century, it was universally considered
as vermin, anu destroyed as such, until the time of Burron.
But in Bewicx’s History of British Birds, this opinion was
entirely and boldly controverted, on the strength of a calcula-
tion regarding the number of caterpillars which the old birds
convey to their young in a single day.

This opinion, delivered as it originally was, in one of the
roost popular works ever published, was of course reiterated by

THE HOUSE SPARROW. 341

every succeeding compiler, with the advantage of some saga-
cious and truly original reflections,—of course closet-hatched.
To echo this notion, would be sufficiently easy, but my obser-
vations lead me to an entirely opposite opinion. With regard
to the frugivorous members of the Warbler family, I think there
can be no doubt; as, with the exception of a short period of
sultry weather, they subsist almost wholly on insects, and are
merely termed frugivorous, because they are more partial to
fruit than the rest of the family. Without the Sylviade, no
kind of vegetation could possibly be preserved. Some of the
aberrant individuals of the Finch family are scarcely less bene-
ficial, but the hard-billed and more typical members, which
subsist for the most part on corn and seeds, are considerably
more hurtful, though even between these a great distinction
must be made. The Common Goldwing, for instance, feeds
chiefly on the seeds of the groundsel, chickweed, poppy, char-
lock, and other noxious weeds ; seldom or never attacking the
more substantial grain, as oats, wheat, barley, &c., or ap-
proaching the stores of the farm-yard. But the House Sparrow
rarely troubles itself to search for the seeds of grasses and
other small plants, living, in fact, entirely—with the excep-
tion of insects in the breeding time—on the labour of man, and
consuming his goods as fast as they are provided. In summer,
the flocks seldom stick very close to the ricks, but in severe
frosts they never quit them, unless compelled with guns and
other weapons, and even then they sometimes only move off to
the opposite side of another stack, or to the top of an adjoining
dove-cot or farm-building, where they sit yelping in patience
until again left by themselves.

In various parts of this article, much has been said of the
awkward and vulgar manners of this species, and of its depre-
dations on our stores. This is perfectly true; but I must com-
plete its history with a few remarks of a somewhat more
favourable nature. It must be observed, then, that the plu-
mage of the adult male in spring, is far from destitute of
beauty; for the colours, though plain and unobtrusive, are

242 THE HOUSE SPARROW.

arranged with extreme taste, consisting mostly of black and
rich browns, intermixed. At a distance, the tints are scarcely
noticed, and the individuals that pass their lives in towns and
villages, are wholly destitute of them, the males being, in
most cases, undistinguishable from the females. In the coun-
try alone the freshness of the hues can be seen in their full
beauty, and nothing can be more pleasing than to examine a
recently-killed specimen. But hardly one person in a hundred
is aware that the House Sparrow has anything about it de-
serving of admiration ; and I have frequently found, that even
when the attention of ordinary persons is directed to the cir-
cumstance, they are unwilling or unable to appreciate its
beauties.

In confinement the House Sparrow is wild and untractable,
constantly fluttering against the bars of its prison. Even when
taken from the nest early, and kept in a sitting-room, they
never become familiar or even tame, and I have hitherto failed
in my endeavours to render it contented with its situation.
And I may here notice an error frequently committed by Orni-
thologists, and into which even Mr. Bryrtu has fallen, in the
Field Naturalist’s Magazine; namely, that those species which
are most tame and familiar in their natural state, are the most
shy and boisterous in cages. But my experience by no means
confirms this circumstance, which could indeed scarcely hold
good, if we consider the matter a moment.

The subject of the present article, for instance, is usually
supposed to be one of the tamest and most familiar of our indi-
genous species, and many unreflecting, unobserving persons
find it extremely wild in the aviary. From this and a few
other similar instances, a generalization is made, without fur-
ther consideration. This, however, is far from the case. The
House Sparrow, it is true, is coy and distant in confinement,
but then, as might be supposed, it is likewise in its wild state ;
few birds are more difficult of approach, or, when approached,
more desirous to escape from view. Only stroll beside a ma-
nure field (if there be no objection to the situation) in the

THE HOUSE SPARROW. 343

neighbourhood of a farm, and compare the manners of the va-
rious species assembled to partake of the delicacies prepared.
The Whin Linnets repair to a tree rising out of the hedge, or
calmly fly off in a flock, and are no more seen. The Chafi
Finches occupy the tallest trees, scattering themselves over the
premises. These are perfectly tame, and stick close to the
branches without moving, even while you are walking under
the trees. You are no sooner passed, than they return to
their occupation in a quiet and orderly manner. The Bare-
faced Crows either remain on the ground, or move heavily into
the adjoining field. But only look at those vulgar, shuffling,
noisy House Sparrows in the hedge. You may follow them,
but only at a distance; for no sooner do they perceive them-
selves pursued, than they make off in the utmost haste and
disorder. But while little regularity is apparently observed by
them, their cunning tricks do not here forsake them. As you
advance along the hedge, the group scuffle round the same ma-
nure field, and when you are arrived at the opposite side of the
field to that on which you commenced, the whole troop sud-
denly leaves you in the lurch, and finds its way to that spot,
and continue feeding, though with some trepidation. On such
an occasion, I once remember just peeping over the hedge, and
beheld the House Sparrows instantly leave their work, and
betake themselves to some farm buildings in the neighbour-
hood; which, while it proves the extreme vigilance and shy-
ness of the bird, points out at the same time the acuteness and
extent of its vision. It is now perfectly clear that the present
species is at least consistent in its wildness, retaining this cha-
racter equally in its natural and captivated state.

The notion of its familiarity is easily accounted for, as
every bird or animal which is constantly seen near the dwell-
ings of man is supposed to be tame and familiar, and here the
range of the observation of ordinary persons terminates. But
I think that in most instances the contrary will hold good. It
is a well-known fact that animals inhabiting remote, unculti_
vated spots, are less alarmed at man than those frequenting

344 THE TREE SPARROW.

situations in the immediate vicinity of our dwellings, the latter
having acquired cruel experience of the domination of the
tyrants of the Creation; and so it is with this species. But
we must now take our leave of the House Sparrow, having
already occupied more space with its biography than the reader
perhaps thinks it deserves. But, while I fully admit the exten-
sive depredations of this bird, and its irreparable injuries, I
will here conclude by requesting the reader to examine, in
hand, a country-bred adult male of the second year, and let
him then form an opinion of its personal appearance.

Tree Sparrow, Passer arboreus, BuytH.

SyNONYMs.—Passer montanus, RAy’s Syn.—Briss. Orn.—Fringilla montana,
LINN. Syst.—LatH. Ind, Orn.—Loxia Hamburgia, GMEL. Linn.—Tree Spar-
row, SELBY’s Br. Orn.

Tue Tree Sparrow is nowhere abundant, being extremely
local, but indigenous. According to authors it is most plenti-
ful in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, and is occasionally met
with in Lancashire. It would appear, however, that it some-
times occurs in other parts, as I have seen a pair in a collec-
tion of birds shot in Staffordshire. They were killed by a
gentleman’s servant, and were first seen by me in the museum
of a friend at Tutbury. Others, obtained in various parts of
the midland and southern counties, have also, at different
times, come to my knowledge. Whether it is found at all in
the eastern and western counties, I am unable to determine,
and as the habits of the species are not personally known to
me, my description will be taken from other authors.

According to SeLBy, “ it is a bird of retired habits, and is
never found to frequent villages or other dwellings like the
common species, but is generally to be met with where old
trees (particularly pollards, hollowed by decay) are abundant,
as in the holes of these it finds a congenial retreat, and proper
situation for its nest, of which the materials are hay and straw
intermixed, with a lining of feathers.

THE TREE SPARROW. 345

** The eggs are four or five in number, similar in colour to
those of the House Sparrow, but rather smaller.—The food of
this species consists of various seeds and grain, and the buds
of trees ; but during the breeding season it destroys quantities
of larve, moths, and others of the insect tribe, on which its
callow young are principally supported.—Its form is more
slender than that of the preceding bird, and its motions full of
spirit and activity; like it also, the Tree Sparrow possesses no
song, and its usual note is somewhat similar in tone to that of
the former, but rather shriller.

“« It is plentiful in France, Holland, and other parts of the
Continent, extending its range southward to Spain and Italy.

“* General Description—Crown of the head and nape of the
neck deep chesnut-brown, witha tinge of grey. Space between
the bill and eyes, spot behind the ear, throat, and under part
of the neck, black. Sides of the neck, and collar on the nape
of the same, white. Under parts greyish-white. Upper part
of the back having one web of the feathers black, and the other
pale chesnut, inclining to yellowish-brown. Wing-coverts,
chesnut-brown, with the tips of the greater and the lower row
of the lesser ones white, and forming two bars across the
wings. Quills and secondaries blackish-brown, margined with
yellowish-brown. Lower part of the back, andrump, yellowish-
grey. Tail hair-brown, margined paler. Legs pale or wood-
brown.”

The above description of feathers, is minutely exact, but my

_readers will perhaps form a better idea of the bird, if it is men-
tioned that its general appearance much resembles that of the
House Sparrow, but its expression—judging from stuffed speci-
cimens—is gayer and more lively. The House Sparrow often
carries its tail on one side, and is constantly jerking it up as
if to keep it in its place; but the present species is far more
compact and bird-like. The distribution of the colours of the
two species, is however somewhat similar.

346 THE CHAFF FINCH.

Genus FRINGILLA, Linn. FINCH.

Cuarr Fincu, Fringilla celebs, Linn.

Where the Chaff Finch rests its wing,
’Mid the budding trees so gay,
Still, anon, it loves to sing,
Merrily, its roundelay.
Lo! on yonder branchlet hoar,
Twin’d with honeysuckle round,
Curiously bestudded o’er,
Lurks a nest by ivy crowned.
Anonymous.

Synonyms.—Fringilla celebs, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—SELBY’s Br. Orn:
—Fringilla spiza, RENNIE’s Montagu.—Analyst, No. 14.—Chaff Finch, LATH.
Ind, Orn.—Mont. Orn. Dict.—SELBY’S Br. Orn.

Tue Chaff Finch may safely be considered as the commonest
of our indigenous songsters. The House Sparrow, the Reed
Bunting, and other familiar species, are only plentiful in par-
ticular localities, as the immediate neighbourhood of houses,
in marshy reedy grounds, &c.; but, go where you will, you
meet with the gay, blithesome Chaff Finch, as well amid the
thickest forests, and on the lofty peak, as in the vicinity of our
dwellings. On the whole, however, it is a bird of cultivation,
and its extreme abundance depends rather on the state of the
lands and the crops than on the number of houses in the district.
But although it occurs in forests, bleak moors, or indeed in
almost any other locality, yet it appears to be found chiefly on
the borders of these; it likewise abounds in roads, lanes, and
gardens or groves adjoining houses. It is, however, more
difficult to specify where it does not, than where it does occur,
it being scarcely possible to find any spot unfrequented by
Chaff Finches.

In the middle of March, while the winds are still loud,
boisterous and constant, the Chaff Finch commences its merry
and oft-repeated strains. This consists of but a single bar, of

THE CHAFF FINCH. 347

short rapid notes, and ina high key. It isa pleasant lively
song, and the more so on account of the early time of year at
which it is first heard ; but if it long remained our chief songster,
the notes would soon become wearisome and monotonous ; and
indeed in backward seasons, when the musical Warbler family
are not yet arrived, I have frequently found this to be the case.
But it forms an agreeable variety to the rest of the feathered
choristers, though but few are heard when the woods are in full
chorus, as it is an early breeder, and consequently disconti-
nues its notes before the greater number of the Sylviade have
advanced far with nidification. In England this species is
scarcely known in its musical capacity, and is rarely kept in
confinement ; nor is it often taken by the London bird-catchers.
In Germany, however, it is one of the favourite song birds, so
large and extravagant a sum as five guineas being sometimes
given for remarkably fine males; and cows being commonly
exchanged for them.

The German bird-fanciers teach it to sing airs, and likewise
the notes of other birds; those that whistle wine songs are
considered the best; but I am little versed in the artificial
songs of birds, and therefore refer such of my readers as are
desirous of learning further particulars on the subject, to
Becustein’s Cage Birds, where a complete account of the
mode of managing it will be found. Indeed the longer biogra-
phies in that pleasant publication, consist of little more than
dissertations on the songs of birds, the author being chiefly a
bird-fancier, though he doubtless possessed a good ornitholo-
gical knowledge in addition.

As a song bird, the Chaff Finch would certainly not be
worth keeping in cages, especially as it sings much less, and
for a considerably shorter time in the year, than in its natural
state: but its vivacity and lively motions in my opinion fully
compensate any musical defects, and render it one of the most
pleasing of cage birds. It would, however, be necessary to
rear it from the nest, for, when caught old, it loses not its
innate wildness and freedom of spirit for two or three years.

348 THE CHAFF FINCH.

But there is much difference in individuals, and from five or
six which I have had at various times, I am inclined to believe
that the females are more docile and tractable than the males.
Several instances of this have fallen under my observation, but
the principal is the following :—

A pair of Chaff Finches, male and female, were taken in a
trap and placed in an aviary, containing birds of various kinds.
For some months, both fluttered and battered themselves con-
stantly against the wires of the cage, little difference being ob-
servable in their dispositions. But after about half a year, the
female entirely altered its habits, and became perfectly tame,
and even familiar, feeding without alarm within a few feet of
where I was standing. The male remained precisely the same,
keeping as shy and distant as ever, though it seldom fluttered
if no one was near, and thus I could easily watch the pair by
hiding myself behind a door. After their imprisonment, they
paid little attention to each other, and the male never sang,
nor do I believe it ever does, unless confined by itself. ‘They
remained with me about two years, but never attempted to
build. Their motions in confinement are easy and graceful,
and they hop rather than walk, but in a smooth manner, so
that at a distance it is difficult to determine how it progresses
on the ground. Others that I have reared from the nest, and
which were fed by the parents, still retained somewhat of their
natural shyness, but never fluttered or appeared alarmed at the
sight of man. They refused fruit of all kinds, and were most
partial to seeds, either hemp, rape, canary, or the various
grasses. House flies and cther insects were likewise accept-
able, though animal food is never necessary to the members of
the Finch family ; groundsel, chickweed, and all green leaves,
which form the chief subsistence of the Common Goldwing
and others, remain unmolested by the present species. After
the old birds deserted them, they became much tamer, on ac-
count of their never seeing others at liberty ; still, however,
they knew their interests, and at last all escaped through a
small hole in the cage, which I should scarcely have consi-

THE CHAFF FINCH. 349

dered large enough to admit any bird. They were never seen
afterwards. The Chaff Finch never dusts in confinement, but
is extremely partial to washing. Two or more males, in the
same cage, will fight desperately at the water or seed pan, but
it seldom molests any other species.

The nest of the Chaff Finch is a most beautiful and elegant
structure, and not inferior in appearance to the undomed
architecture of any British bird. The exterior consists of moss
and wool, spangled over with lichens, which gives it a gay and
elegant aspect. It is little liable to deviation as regards ma-
terials, though the look of the whole varies considerably, and
scarcely any two specimens agree precisely. The kind of lo-
cality selected for nidification of course exercises considerable
influence over the composition of the structure, but as much,
or even more, appears to depend on the skill and age of the
architects. The beautiful and compact form is one of its prin-
cipal characters, and is always observed in a greater or less
degree. Those framed by yearling birds are somewhat looser
and larger than those of adults, and those built in an unfa-
vourable locality as regards materials, are usually unexception-
able in shape, but deficient in the materials which form the
chief ornaments of the structure. The interior is lined with
horse and cow hair, “felted”’ in with a little wool, rabbit’s
fur, or other warm and soft substances.

So great a difference in the appearance of the nest does a
very slight deviation make, that although each individual out
of two dozen may consist of precisely the same materials,
there is considerable difficulty in determining which to select
as a specimen for the museum. And even if you can, you
may perhaps scarcely have lodged it in its place, when another,
with new beauties, will present itself to your notice. This I
have myself repeatedly found to be the case, and you may go
on for a whole season in this manner.

Let us now proceed to the consideration of the localities in
which the nest is found. These, as might be expected, from the
extreme abundance of the bird, are very various, but not so

350 THE CHAFF FINCH.

much so as many others of our common indigenous birds, as
the Ivy Wren, &c. It occurs in almost any kind of bush or
young tree, especially hawthorns. The reason of its partiality
to the hawthorn is, the number of clefts which this tree affords.
It is, however, rarely met with in hedges of any kind, but
chiefly in single trees, situate in gardens or pleasure grounds.
It is perhaps as often seen in woods and groves, in the neigh-
bourhood of dwellings, but much less seldom in the midst of
large forests, though the bird itself occurs there. It were a
difficult matter to determine where it most commonly builds, but
the above-mentioned are the most usual localities. Strangely
enough, the Chaff Finch generally selects the cleft of a tree for
nidification. One would have imagined that so firm and com-
pact a piece of architecture might have been placed anywhere,
but the little architects think differently, and take good care to
lodge it in a cosy cranny, where even the feather-bed of the
House Sparrow would be secure. Such, however, is the case,
and if the cleft of a tree be at hand, other situations will not be
sought after. In districts where the hawthorn is little intro-
duced into gardens, any low bush will suffice; in woods and
copses, the summit of a leafy stump of a beech or elm tree,
where it is amply concealed by the leaves. Woods or forests
consisting chiefly of large trees, are little frequented by this
species, especially where the woodman’s axe is little known,
but in copses almost every stump is occupied, those covered
with lichens being generally preferred. Ivy-clad trees likewise
occasionally afford an asylum for the nest; and this reminds
me of a remarkable circumstance, which runs as follows :-—

In a large ivy-clad tree in a garden behind a house belonging
to a friend of mine, was found the nest of a Chaff Finch; I was
in the habit of repairing to this little domicile every day, but
after about a week discontinued my visits. One day I went out
shooting with my friend, and seeing a bird on a tree, just
within gun-shot, shot at it; it was a female Chaff Finch; no-
thing was thought of this, and we walked on. A few days
afterwards I was informed that the male Chaff Finch had been

THE CHAFF FINCH. 351

found dead in the nest in the ivy tree. At first I was con-
siderably surprised at this occurrence ; but, recollecting that
the female had been shot within fifty yards of the nest, it soon
struck me that we must have killed the female that was sitting
in the ivy tree; that her mate had waited on the nest, and,
finding that she never returned, pined to death. The parent
was perfectly stiff and dry, and had four young birds under its
outstretched wings. My friend had this curiosity preserved in
the position we found it, and I believe it still remains in his
possession.

This species likewise occasionally builds in holly bushes and
fir trees, often placing it on the middle stem of a flake of the
latter, where it is easily discovered, on account of the discre-
pancy of the colour of the fir or larch and the lichen spangles.
It is difficult to see the female sitting, though I have both seen
it, and caught it on its nest. As soon as this is approached,
the female flits off to a neighbouring tree, where it is quickly
joined by the male and others of the species, all sounding their
gay sprightly note, which has been likened to the words pink,
jink, wink, veet, &c. In these cases of danger, a troop of these
birds frequently collect round the spot, and set up a loud
chirping. Sometimes, however, the two parents—at least such
I have always supposed them to be—remain in charge of the
nest, while a third, invariably a male, uses its utmost endea-
vours to lead the intruder from the nest. This circumstance
has never been noticed by authors, which is remarkable enough,
as the fact is perfectly familiar to me. I have frequently ob-
served troops of small birds of various kinds collecting round
the nests of Garden Thrushes and Garden Ouzels, when the
latter are disturbed, and vociferating in a very clamorous man-
ner. But with the Chaff Finch the case is different, as it would
appear that each pair has one regular attendant, which is ever
ready to protect its employers or their family. When any one
approaches the snug little tenement, this officious creature flits
in great precipitation to the spot, continually uttering its lively
call-note ; but in such cases it can be of little service, though

352 THE CHAFF FINCH.

it has frequently drawn me away from the nest by its artifices.
Of course I was well aware that I should not discover the nest
by following this bird, but I was desirous of making myself ac-
quainted with its ways. It acts in much the same manner as @
Pheasant or Partridge would do on a similar occasion, except
that it flits from tree to tree, instead of fluttering along the
ground, and seldom affects lameness or any other bodily defect.
As soon as it has led you to what it considers a sufficient dis-
tance, it rises to some height in the air, and suddenly departs,
flying in a direct line to the place where the nest is concealed.
If you are aware of the site of this, you may return and visit it,
but your guide will, probably, not be there; for no sooner has
it settled its business to its satisfaction, than it leaves the do-
micile to the care of the owners, though it will shortly return if
you tarry near the nest. These attendants are most likely
bachelors, or individuals that have been unable to procure a
mate, as birds which themselves possessed nests, would have
enough to do to take care of their own families.

The eggs, four or five in number, are of a dirty white, or
reddish white, blotched with the same colour, but darker.
They are nearly elliptical, and have the appearance of rotten-
ness. The male, like most other members of the family, takes
his turn on the nest, and both sit very close, though they are
extremely sharp in escaping when in danger. I once remember
catching a female on a nest containing five eggs, which had
been incubated about nine days, with the view of ascertaining
whether the male would pine for her, but he never returned,
and I suffered my captive to escape. In some instances, how-
ever, when I have taken the male on the nest, at noon, the fe-
male has continued sitting through the day and night, but
afterwards deserted. If the male disappears by any accident
after the young have been hatched some days, the remaining
parent continues to take charge of the brood; but if the same
loss happens when the nestlings are recently hatched, the do-
micile is deserted for ever.

When I resided at Scampston Hall, near Malton, in York-

THE CHAFF FINCH. 353.

shire, an instance of this kind came under my notice. A friend
of mine had shot a male Chaff Finch near his house, which he
afterwards discovered to be the father ofa family. Next morning
my friend discovered a nest containing four young birds, appa-
rently in a starving state ; these he took home and nursed, until
they were ready to fly, when they became remarkably tame, re-
fusing their liberty when they had numerous opportunities of
escaping. How they ended their days I know not.

Lively as is the Chaff Finch, it has nothing pert, vulgar, or
Sparrow-like in its manners; it never twitches up its tail in
the singular mode that the House Sparrow is observed to do,
and it sometimes sits, for half-an-hour together, on the branch
ofa tree, behind which, if slopen, it frequently endeavours to
conceal itself when noticed, remaining almost motionless. It
however keeps a vigilant look-out, constantly turning about its
little head with a brisk and rapid motion. In winter, or rather
in autumn, it assembles in considerable flocks, associating with
Whin Linnets, Yellow Buntings, and other gregarious species,
and with them frequenting the highways and cultivated fields,
where it never fails to procure a sufficiency of food. These
flocks in many countries consist entirely either of males or
females, and so they do in some parts of England. In Derby-
shire the flocks are mostly composed of males, which proves
that the majority of the other sex leave us in the autumn.
And hence the application of Linnzus’s specific name celebs,
or bachelor.

But although the name celebs is good as a general rule, it
is not without exceptions, and the specific name has, on this
account, been objected to, and altered by some, but, in my
opinion, with little reason. No rule is without its exceptions,
and so I take it to be in the present case. Few winters pass
without my noticing several pair of Chaff Finches, which had
evidently remained attached ever since the breeding season.
Indeed it would appear, that all the few females that remain in
this part of the country through the winter, keep with the
males. A greater number of instances of this occurrence have

Aa

354 THE CHAFF FINCH.

fallen under my observation during the late mild and open
winters, than in the bleak, old-fashioned seasons: The flocks
of males have likewise considerably decreased in number for
some years past.

The Chaff Finch feeds in great part on insects and larve,
especially in spring, and during the breeding season. Almost
any small insects are acceptable, and the young are supported
on little else; but in early spring it becomes an object of de-
testation to the gardener, and is destroyed in great numbers.
At this period it certainly commits some damage amongst
flower-seeds in gardens and pleasure grounds ; but as its de-
predations are for the most part confined to this time, we have
not only no right to kill it, but are going against our interests
in so doing. In the beginning of April it may be observed
destroying some of the choicest of the flower-seeds, but it is
easily driven away, being apparently aware that it can only
obtain its favourite food by stealth. Indeed if the gardener
and his men are always at their post, our gay little songster
seldom ventures to approach. When the labourers are at
dinner, however, I have seen several descend from the trees in
various parts of the garden, and feed on the plants. But these
petty depredations continue for a very short time in the year,
and while the gardener or his men are absent, a boy might be
stationed on the premises, or scarecrows stuck up in different
places to frighten them away ; nothing more would be requisite.

This species is likewise partially granivorous—but not gra-
minivorous—in autumn and winter, approaching houses and
farms even more closely than it had done before, and feeding
either on grain, or on the various kinds of refuse that abound
in such localities. At this period, though it is not exactly
beneficial to our interests, it is by no means injurious; for
although it frequents the rick-yards along with other Fringillide,
it seldom takes the trouble of pulling out the straws and pluck-
ing the corn, but, as its name denotes, is commonly content to
glean a scanty subsistence amongst the chaff beside the barn
door, or feeding on the brewer’s “ grains,” to which it is ex-

THE CHAFF FINCH. 359

tremely partial. I am the more inclined to the opinion that it
feeds but little on corn in its wild state, from the circumstance
of my having, on two or three occasions, preserved a pair of
these handsome birds for several successive days on grains and
chaff, in acage ; to wheat and barley, likewise, I have observed
it to be little partial. Oats are preferred to these, but will at
all times be left for hemp, and even for canary, rape, rice, &c.
In its natural state it also feeds on the seeds of grasses and
other plants, and would probably do so in confinement. In
this it resembles the Hedge Dunnock, and, like the House
Sparrow, will eat bread, potatoes, and various other substances.
Few birds may be preserved more easily or at less expense, in
an aviary, and if “‘caught young,” it retains little of natural
shyness, though it never loses its vivacity.

The females return from their migrations about the middle
of March, and pair soon afterwards; but even then they keep
a good deal in flocks, foraging together in the fields. They are
easily disturbed when approached, but remain on the neigh-
bouring trees with great pertinacity, until the intruder is
entirely out of sight, when they again descend and continue
their researches. The flight of all the Fringillide is buoyant
and bounding, but that of the present species, which is the
typical member of the whole family, is considerably more so
than that of any other British individual of the family, and its
shape and colour are beautiful and elegant. The tints of the
male in the breeding season, are scarcely surpassed in our native
Ornithology, and their motions are lively, easy, and graceful.
The plumage of the other sex is plain and unobtrusive, but
she too is very chaste and handsome in her way. Her colours
resemble that of the exterior of the nest, and of the lichen-clad
trees, to which they are so partial.

The Chaff Finch has two principal chirps. First, that which
it is the custom of Ornithologists to liken to fink or pink ; and
secondly, a shorter note, to which our writers have as yet
assigned no word. The former is chiefly employed in the
breeding season, and is rarely heard in autumn and winter ; the

Aa 2

356 THE BRAMBLE FINCH.

latter is constantly uttered on the wing, throughout the year,
and whilst on the perch during the inclement seasons. Upon
the whole the present is an extremely interesting species, both —
in habits and appearance. With regard to the latter, indi-
viduals vary greatly with age and season. Until the spring
moult, the sexes resemble each other, but they then acquire
their red, blue, and grey tints, though by no means in full
beauty. At the spring of the second year they attain additional
brilliancy, but still great difference will be observed between
two-year-old males, scarcely any two agreeing precisely. As
the season advances, the tints become more and more beautiful,
but after atime they begin to fade, and the head and breast
grow perfectly pale about the middle of autumn, in which state
they remain until the ensuing spring. The plumage of the
female varies little, except that it is somewhat darker after the
spring moult, than it had previously been.

I am not aware that this species is subject to variety, having
never met with or heard of any deviations of plumage, excepting
of course the changes caused by season or age, which, as has
already been observed, are considerable.

BraMes_e Fincu, Fringilla montana, WiLL.

Synonyms.—Fringilla montana, WiLL. Orn.—Analyst, No. 14.—Fringilla monti-
fringilla, LINN. Syst.—Ib. Faun. Suec.—LaTH. Ind. Orn.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—
Fringilla Lulensis, Gmex. Linn.—Latu. Ind. Orn.—Mountain Finch, SELBY s
Br. Orn,—Analyst, No. 14,

Tue Bramble Finch has never fallen under my observation
in its natural state, though I have seen a pair alive at the
gardens of the Zoological Society, of London; and one which
was shot near here about seven years ago, is now preserved in
my collection. The manners—judging from the above-men-
tioned caged birds—are gay and lively, much resembling those
of its congener, and its common call-note is similar. This is
often repeated at particular times, but sometimes the bird
remains mute for a considerable period, in which it again re-

THE BRAMBLE FINCH. 357

sembles the Chaff Finch; like it, also, it is constantly wiping
its beak on its perch, in a brisk and lively manner. In Britain,
we are informed that the present species is a periodical visitant,
a few being observed every winter, though varying in numbers
according to weather and other circumstances. British Orni-
thologists appear to be little familiar with its habits, and their
accounts of these are far from satisfactory. SELBY says :—

‘«The Bramble Finch is a bird of handsome appearance, and
rather superior in size to the Chaff Finch, which in habits and
manners it closely resembles. During its residence with us, it
frequents the stubble lands, associating often with the Chaff
Finch and other granivorous birds; and I have observed that
it always roosts in fir or larch plantations, if any such are in
the neighbourhood of its haunt. The usual call-note of this
species, though not unlike that of the Chaff Finch, can be
easily distinguished by a practised ear; but [am unable to
say whether its notes vary in the spring, or whether it pos-
sesses any proper song. It builds in lofty pine and spruce
trees, and its nest is formed of moss and wool, lined with fea-
thers and hair. It lays four or five white eggs, spotted with
yellowish-brown.”

Dr. Liverpoot informs me that he has frequently shot the
Bramble Finch in the vicinity of Cheltenham and Leamington,
and likewise in many of the southern counties. The following
description of its plumage, will serve to identify the species, in
case any of my readers should be fortunate enough to meet
with it. It is extracted from SeLBy’s Illustrations :—

“* Head, cheeks, nape of the neck, and upper part of the
back black ; having the feathers margined and tipped with yel-
lowish-grey, or yellowish-brown. Throat, breast, scapulars,
and lesser wing-coverts pale reddish-brown. Coverts of the
secondary quills black, tipped with pale reddish-orange.
Greater quills black, with a white spot at the base, and the
margins of the outer webs primrose-yellow. Rump, belly,
and under-tail coverts yellowish-white. Sides inclining to
buff-orange, spotted with black. Tail black, edged with grey,

358 THE SISKIN GOLDWING.

and the exterior web of the outer feather white. Base of the
bill inclining to lemon-yellow; the tip black. In summer the
head, neck, and back are of a deep black, without any of the
yellowish-brown that distinguishes these parts in winter; and
the bill becomes of a dark bluish-grey. |

‘« Female.x—Crown of the head hair-brown. Cheeks and
nape of the neck ash-grey. Above the eye is a streak of
brownish-black. Throat and breast reddish-orange. Back
blackish-brown, margined with yellowish-brown. Wings
brownish-grey.

“« The young of the year resemble the female, except that the
throat is usually white.”

Genus CARDUELIS, Aucr. GOLDWING.

Siskin GoLtpwinc, Carduelis spinus, STEPH.

SynonyMs.—Fringilla spinus, Linn. Syst.—ID. Faun. Suec.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—
Carduelis spinus, STEPH. Gen. Zool.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Siskin, SELBY’s Br.
Orn.—Siskin Goldwing, Analyst, No. 14.

I am convinced our Ornithologists are mistaken in supposing
the Siskin Goldwing to be a rare occasional visitant, only ap-
pearing in Britain in extremely severe winters. It is also re-
presented as only approaching our shores at distant and uncer-
tain periods ; but this is by no means the case, as many years’
observations, in a district by no means favourable to the spe-
cies, has proved to me beyond a doubt. Even in Derbyshire I
should almost be inclined to consider it indigenous, as future
investigation will probably find it to be in many of the fir
forests of Scotland. It would appear that few British Ornitho-
logists who have described the bird, have studied its habits in
its native haunts, though I think it will be found to be plenti-
ful in many parts of England, where as yet it has scarcely been
heard of, except in the neighbourhood of the metropolis,
where the bird-catchers occasionally take them in considerable
numbers.

THE SISKIN GOLDWING. 359

During the last remarkably mild and open winter, I have
seldom taken a walk, in places at all favourable to the bird,
without meeting with it. It may possibly be true that it only
visits Britain in very large flocks in severe seasons, but cer-
tainly no winter passes without its occurring at all. It is,
however, probable, that in mild weather they are less inclined
to congregation, as is well known to be the case with other
gregarious species; this would satisfactorily account for its
being less observed in mild than in severe winters. Even
during the present year (1836) it is abundant in many of the
southern counties, as Surrey, Kent, Somersetshire, &c., and
likewise in Gloucestershire, Derbyshire, and Staffordshire. An
adult female was lately sent me by Mr. Biytu, and Mr. Bar-
LOw represents it as by no means rare in the vicinity of Cam-
bridge. Mr. Weston shot a pair in Cheshire in the early
part of February, and Dr. Liverprcot has seen it in various
parts of England.

In my own immediate neighbourhood, by far the greater
number of Siskin Goldwings are periodical visitants ; but it is
neither very abundant, nor very regular in its migratory move-
ments. The first are usually seen in November, and it departs
before the approach of spring. It is here generally met with
in small flocks of from twelve to twenty, and it frequents
alders, willows, &c., hanging underneath the branches, and
feeding on the catkins, much in the manner of the Redpoll
Linnet. It occurs less frequently in bleak upland grounds,
than in lower and more sheltered situations, where I have ob-
served it to be especially partial to woods, osier beds, or even
single trees, bordering on lakes and streams, but never near
muddy, stagnant pools or marshes. It is fond of retirement,
rarely approaching gardens, houses or farms, and shunning,
as much as possible, the more cultivated and inhabited grounds.
It is, however, by no means shy, or alarmed at the sight of the
lord of the Creation, often admitting of a very near approach.
They are gay lively creatures, and seldom remain long in one
place, excepting where they find unusually ‘* good accommo-
dation.”

360 THE SISKIN GOLDWING.

The motions of this species are gay and elegant, and though
the plumage, even of the adult male, is far from showy, it is a
lovely and beautiful bird, and quite as much to my taste as its
more brightly-tinted congener. It is a most interesting cage’
bird, and very easily tamed, even when caught old. It never
falls into the extreme of the Common Goldwing, of either flut-
tering about all day, or moping motionless on the perch, with
its head buried in its shoulders. On the contrary, it is as gay,
lively and contented as the Canary, hopping about in a quick
and elegant manner, and often climbing up the wires with bill
and claws. On the ground it advances by hopping.

The shape of the Siskin Goldwing is neat and tidy, and the
tail short and considerably forked. The tints of black and
green are beautifully variegated in the male; of this ordinary
observers and even practical Ornithologists appear to be little
aware. Indeed our writers seem to be little acquainted with
the bird, except as a dried skin, when both the size, shape and
colour are usually considerably altered. In confinement it may
be fed on various kinds of small seeds ; and, as I am informed by
a London bird-catcher, it is partial to the catkins of the alder
and willow. When kept in an aviary or small room, it should
be provided with the branches of any tree to which it is ob-
served to be partial. It will then thrive much better than if
the room were merely “furnished”? with dry perches, and it
frequently lives several years in perfect health. One instance
of its living so long as ten years, has come to my notice; this
individual was reared from the nest, and appeared to die of
old age, as it seems to have no malady to the last. This
cannot of course determine the length of its life in its natural
state, for birds never live half so long in cages as in their native
haunts. The Common Goldwing is said to have lived so long
as twenty years in a cage, though not perhaps on very good
authority ; it is however certain, that the Canary has been pre-
served ten, fourteen and sixteen years, and on this account we
may infer that many of our small! birds attain a considerable
age in their natural state.

THE SISKIN GOLDWING. 361

The song is short, low, and unvaried, but by no means
unpleasant or monotonous. In confinement it sings seldom,
especially if it be kept in a room or aviary with other birds ;
and even when solitary, its notes are much less constantly
heard than those of its congener. Like the latter, I have
occasionally heard it sing, on a fine winter’s day, in its natural
state. In character the song somewhat resembles that of the
Common Goldwing, being sprightly and rather sweet; but it
is much inferior in melody, power and execution. It has.a
kind of twitter while flying, but, as far as I have observed, it
never employs the swinging motion that the latter frequently
does when pleased. Nor indeed is it so lively on the whole,
though the manners of the two species are very similar. Like
its congener it frequents large single trees, and, like that bird,
often remains on one tree for hours together, singing all the
while. This, however, mostly takes place towards spring,
when it is less restless than it had previously been.

The nest I have never seen, and authors in general appear
to be little acquainted with it, chiefly, it would seem, on
account of the great altitude at which it builds, or is supposed
to build. It has been ascertained to breed in several parts of
Scotland, and JARDINE and Sexsy have seen it in pairs in the
month of June, near Killin. Mr. Garpiner has likewise
found it to breed in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. But I
have heard of no authentic instance of its breeding in England,
though it will probably be found to do so in various parts. In
Derbyshire a pair of these birds were seen to frequent a wood
behind Foston Hall in the spring and summer of 1831, and
though I never discovered the nest, they must have bred some-
where in the immediate neighbourhood. This was the first
time I had seen it after the month of March, but in subsequent
seasons I have noticed it both single and in pairs, throughout
the spring and summer, which proves beyond a doubt that the
species is resident and breeds in this county. A friend in-
forms me that he is convinced he has seen two nests belonging
to the Siskin Goldwing, and which were found in 1832, in

362 THE SISKIN GOLDWING.

laurel bushes, about seven feet from the ground. But as my
friend is no Ornithologist, and as the situation is widely
different from that represented by the continental writers, little
reliance can be placed on this information. No efforts on my
part have been spared to discover the nest, but as yet in vain.
It is, however, a great point gained, to have ascertained
beyond a doubt that it does breed in the middle of England, or
at least in parts of Derbyshire and Staffordshire, where in
winter it is met with much more frequently than many birds
considered abundant by Ornithologists, as the Corn Bunting,
Whitethroated Fauvet, &c. On the continent it is said to
build at the tops of lofty pines, laying four or five bluish white
eggs, spotted with purplish red.

Its food consists of the seeds of the fir, alder, birch, elm,
willow, &c., which it seeks with great avidity, tapping at the
catkins with its beak, or hanging on the under side of the
twig, and pulling out the seeds. Whilst feeding, it is easily
approached, and might doubtless be caught, like the Redpoll
Linnet, with a fishing-rod smeared with birdlime. According
to my observation, it is not insectivorous, and probably it is
not so, as its congener is wholly granivorous and grami-
nivorous. But I have seen it feeding with great relish on the
leaves and seeds of the chickweed and groundsel, to which it
appears to be equally partial with the Common Goldwing.

The Siskin Goldwing flies in a light and bounding manner,
but it seldom remains long on the wing, during its sojourn
with us. The main flock disappears suddenly on the approach
of spring, though I have met with several so late as the third
or fourth of April, and a few appear to remain with us through-
out the year, though, from their shy retiring habits at that
season, they are little seen or noticed. I possess a fine male
of this species, and numbers of others have at various times
passed through my hands; but as I have not at present access
to either a recent or stuffed specimen, I shall have recourse to
Monvacu for a description of its plumage :—

“« The Siskin Goldwing nearly resembles the canary termed

THE SISKIN GOLDWING. 363

the green variety, only it is a little less, the tail being rather
shorter in proportion. Size of the Redpoll Linnet, or between
that and the Whin Linnet. Length rather more than five
inches ; bill reddish-white, tipped with blackish-brown; eyes,
umber-brown ; head, greenish-black; over each eye a pale
streak of dingy primrose-yellow ; neck, back, wings, and tail,
oil-green ; paler, and more yellow, on the lower parts of the
back towards the tail-coverts. The feathers of the back and
wings are streaked down the middle with a tint formed of
blackish-green and hair-brown; sides of the head, throat,
breast, and under parts, pale wax-yellow, inclining to sulphur-
yellow ; middle of the parts below the breast very pale wine-
yellow, passing into white; across each wing are two bands
of primrose-yellow, and between them one of black; part
of the quills and tail edged with pale gamboge-yellow ;
legs and feet pale flesh-red. The head of the female is of a
brownish colour, inclining to grey where the male is black ;
cheeks and side of the neck siskin green or oil-green; and all
the rest of her plumage is of a more dingy colour than in the
male.”

I never met with any regular varieties of the Siskin Gold-
wing; but its plumage alters considerably with age and
season.

364 THE COMMON GOLDWING.

Common Gotpwine, Carduelis elegans, StePu.

Hid among the op’ning 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.

Anonymous.

Synonyms.—Fringilla carduelis, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Carduelis ele-
gans, STEPH. Gen. Zool.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Gold Finch, SELBY’s Br. Orn.

Few of our British birds, whether migratory or resident,
possess more beautiful plumage, or more pleasing manners,
than the Common Goldwing, and it is extremely abundant in
every part of the country. In many districts, however, a par-
tial migration takes place. Thus in Derbyshire the main mass
take their departure about the middle of autumn, few individuals
being observed between this time and spring. Early in April,
or at all events some time during the month, however, they
again make their appearance, and soon become plentiful. They
depart in flocks of from twenty to thirty, but almost the whole
are paired by the beginning of April, the rest arriving in packs
of four or six. It is not usually considered a gregarious species,
though it is generally met with in small troops in autumn and
winter. These flocks, however, seldom exceed thirty or forty,
and usually consist of a considerably smaller number.

It is most abundant in wild uncultivated fields, covered with
weeds and thistles, and is little partial to highly-cultivated
lands and corn districts, though it frequents gardens and the
neighbourhood of houses throughout the year. In many parts
of Britain it is wholly resident, and I believe it never entirely
quits our shores, though in some counties, as the flat portions
of Derbyshire and Staffordshire, the greater number depart for

THE COMMON GOLDWING. 365

the south in autumn. On the whole, it prefers dry elevated
districts, to the low marshy grounds bordering on lakes and
streams, though at certain times it is met with in these and
various other localities. To woods it is little partial, and it
occurs most frequently in open unsheltered situations.

The song, like the bird, is gay and lively, and is surpassed
by that of no other member of the family in sweetness and
melody, though it may be exceeded by many in depth, rich-
ness, and execution. It is not so regular a song as that of the
Whin Linnet, Wood Lark, &c., being somewhat more of a
twitter, but it is of an exceedingly pleasing character. Its
chirps or call-notes are numerous and varied, and whilst uttering
them, especially when it is pleased, it turns its body rapidly
from side to side on the perch—a habit which I have observed
in no other British bird. Its beautiful song, elegant plumage,
and interesting manners, cause it to be in great demand as a
cage bird ; and, abundant as it is in every part of the kingdom,
a fine male usually sells for five or six shillings, though when
first caught they may be had for much iess.

The greater number of Common Goldwings that are seen
caged in the country, have been reared from the nest, or put
into a cage when just fledged, and fed by the parents, which
take the greatest care of their offspring, and testify their anger
in every possible way when the cage is approached. Their en-
deavours to release the brood are unceasing, as I have had fre-
quent opportunities of witnessing, when watching their motions
from some place of concealment. Like the Tits they will dili-
gently search every cranny of the prison, and if any gap be
stopped up with string, or paper, I have more than once known
the old birds overcome this barrier, lead the brood off in tri-
umph, and forthwith leave the place, probably never to return.
As long as any one is within sight, they seldom make any
attempts to extricate their young, though they will not unfre-
quently feed them in your presence.

In confinement it is tame and familiar, especially if reared
from the nest. But its manners are less adapted to a cage than

366 THE COMMON GOLDWING.

those of the Siskin Goldwing and the Linnets, and although it
it soon becomes inured to its state, even when caught old, yet
it is almost always either fluttering against: the sides and top
of the cage, and biting the wires, or sitting on the top perch,
with its head buried between its shoulders. The best way to
cure it of fluttering, is to confine it for a week in a small trap
cage two or three inches square, and then place it in a larger
one. It is a hearty feeder, and often kills itself by eating too
much hemp-seed. Sometimes it is seized with apoplectic fits,
which commonly terminate fatally, but more frequently the
illness approaches gradually, and the caudal gland becomes
considerably swollen. Even then it is by no means an easy
matter to cure it, and, even when cured, it is afterwards even
more liable to sickness than before. When almost on the point
of death, it continues feeding on the hemp-seed with great
greediness, and thus considerably hastens its death, unless the
seed-trough be withdrawn. During sickness it should be sup-
plied with canary-seed in small quantities, and likewise with
plenty of groundsel, chickweed, and lettuce, to the leaves and
seeds of which it is very partial. In my opinion, however, a
sick bird is in no way worth so much trouble, especially as its
place is at all times easily filled. A sick bird is a most misera-
ble object, and it appears especially so to me, as I have rarely
known instances of their recovering. Frequently they remain
ill several years, and at length perish in a wretchedly meagre
state, but the business is generally finished in a much shorter
time with the present species. The pricking of the caudal
gland will occasionally effect a cure, but not unless the opera-
tion be performed in the early stage of the disease.

In the neighbourhood of the metropolis, immense numbers
of Common Goldwings are annually caught in nets, and sold to
the London dealers, who purchase the males at a low price,
and suffer the females to escape, as song is the chief aim with
them. Few birds are more easily captured, or may be taken
in a greater variety of ways. If wished to be caught in great
numbers, ground nets are the best, but it is easily procured

THE COMMON GOLDWING. 367

with limed twigs, placed in any hedge, or in a garden, on the
top of a bush. I have ensnared many by this simple method,
and in many parts of England men make a regular trade of it,
travelling about the country, and sitting under the hedges while
their traps are taking effect. I should imagine this would be a
pretty profitable speculation, asa singie man frequently catches
as many as two dozen in one day, and purchasers are always
readily found; they are usually sold at a shilling a-piece.
These persons often carry on the business on their own account,
but sometimes they are employed by the bird-sellers in the
neighbouring towns, and are paid either by the day, or by the
number of birds caught. This species may likewise be taken in
trap cages, with a good call-bird confined in the lower part of
the cage, and hung inaconspicuous spot. When first caught,
it is as wild as any other bird, but soon becomes perfectly tame
if confined in a small cage without perches, and with wires only
on one side. I have known it feed from the hand three weeks
after it was taken, but have never endeavoured to teach it those
childish tricks of which bird-fanciers appear to be so proud, as
considerable cruelty must necessarily be inflicted on the innocent
little creatures, before they can learn to perform such feats.
The nest is a beautiful little piece of architecture, and scarcely
inferior in appearance to the snug little tenement of the Chaff
Finch, to which, indeed, it bears some resemblance. The ex-
terior consists of moss, wool and very fine dry grass, covered
on the outside with lichens, which are thinly scattered over the
whole structure ; it is lined with horse or cow hair, the down
of the willow, groundsel or thistle, and sometimes with a little
wool. It is not so elegantly spangled, nor so compact, as the
lovely little domicile of the Chaff Finch, though it must be
owned that there is considerable difference in a number of spe-
cimens, scarcely any two being precisely similar ; the character,
however, is always the same. The lining, and sometimes the
exterior, often varies with the locality; thistle-down being
usually employed in the fields; that of the willow near osier
beds, and groundsel in gardens, shrubberies, and the neigh-

368 THE COMMON GOLDWING.

bourhood of houses. In Sudbury park, where all the wild
rabbits are black, I have seen the nest partially lined with the
fur of that animal—rather a remarkable circumstance, espe-
cially when we consider that the lining usually consists of light
coloured substances.

The nest is generally situated in a bush or low tree, in small
woods, gardens or orchards. The apple is a very favourite
tree, but, in defect of these, almost any other will suffice. I
have seen it in tolerably large beech trees, but much more com-
monly at the tops of bushes, especially hollies and raspberries.
It breeds at least twice in the year, some not being hatched
until the beginning of August, or even later. The same pair
frequently returns several successive seasons, but never during
the same season, or while the old nest is remaining. A young
beech tree close to a wall, in a yard behind my late residence,*
is a great favourite with the species, two nests having been
built in it, in exactly the same places, for the three last years.
These were generally removed before the following spring, but
one year, just before the time at which the birds usually ap-
pear, I placed a nest loosely on the branch where one of the
individuals used to build, in order to ascertain how it would
act. On visiting the place a few days afterwards, not a ves-
tige of the old nest remained, either in the tree or on the ground
underneath, the whole having, apparently, been carried off to
a distance. A new structure had been commenced, and was
shortly completed. If the old nest had been firmly fixed on
the branch, the birds would probably have been unable to re-
move it, and as it was, there must have been considerable dif-
ficulty in conveying it to the distance which they did. The
eggs, four or five in number, are blueish white, marked with
reddish brown. | Bie.
~ The Common Goldwing has perhaps more enemies than
almost any other of our British songsters. Boys seek for its

* Whilst this work has been in progress, Foston Hall has been burnt down,
excepting the bare walls, which are still standing; and the birds have free access
to the desolate apartments of the Ornithologist!

THE COMMON GOLDWING. 369

nest with great eagerness, and sell the young for a few shillings
when they are fully fledged; and the tenement is frequently
pillaged by cats. Half wild cats are very destructive amongst
the young birds, and I have often seen them watching early in
the morning, in gardens and orchards, climbing the apple
trees, and bearing off the young birds. This circumstance is
generally pointed out by the nest being scattered about on the
ground, underneath, or hanging from the branches.

The Common Goldwing breeds freely in confinement, and it
crosses readily with the Siskin Goldwing and Canary, parti-
cularly the latter. I have likewise seen across between this
species and the Whin Linnet, mostly resembling the latter.
The crosses are said to succeed best when the Common Gold-
wing is male, and the Canary of the othersex. Of the accuracy
of this statement I cannot speak with any certainty, but it may
be well to mention, that I have known the cross to answer
equally well, when the reverse is the case. When I visited the
bird-room of a dealer at Scarborough, some ten or twelve
years ago, I found a female of the present species, which had
paired to a Canary, sitting on five eggs; and three similar
instances have since fallen under my observation. One re-
markable circumstance regarding the pairing of birds of dif-
ferent species, must not be overlooked ; namely, that the build-
ing of the nest, the incubation, and the rearing of the brood,
usually devolve wholly on the female, the male appearing to
pay no kind of attention to the affairs of propagation. That
such is always the case, I am not prepared to say, having had
comparatively little experience in cage birds, but it held good
in all the instances of cross breeds that I have known.

In the spring of 1834, I placed a male Goldwing and a female
Canary ina spacious room. They appeared to take little or
no notice of each other, but in due time the female built a nest
and laid five eggs. She sat her time, and at length hatched ;
but the whole business was conducted by the Canary, while
the male was constantly fluttering about, or satisfying his
hunger. During incubation, the Goldwing had never molested

Bb

370 THE COMMON GOLDWING.

his mate, but he seemed perfectly astonished at the young
birds, and used every endeavour to lead the female from the
nest. The progeny lived but a few days, which was most
probably owing to the jealousy of the male.

It feeds on the downy seeds of the thistle, groundsel, dan-
delion, &c., and on the leaves of the chickweed, without which
it cannot long be preserved in health in confinement. It is
likewise partial to the seeds of grasses, and will feed on almost
any kind of small seeds, as hemp, canary, rape, mustard, &c.

In acage it is fond of washing, and a large flat basin should
be placed in the middle of the cage, at noon, in the spring and
summer months. In the midst of winter it will also wash
freely, but, except on remarkably warm days, must not be
allowed to do so, as it frequently catches cold and dies from
using the water on frosty days. The drinking vessel must be
so framed as to prevent its washing in it, and the cage should
be hung in a warm room in winter, in order that the water
may not be frozen. The seeds and leaves of the chickweed and
groundsel it devours with avidity, and not unfrequently drives
away much larger birds if they offer to disturb it while feeding
on it. Whether in its natural state or in confinement, the
Common Goldwings are constantly quarrelling amongst them-
selves, and very virulent conflicts take place between the males
in spring. |

This species does not attain the bright adult tints in full
beauty until the spring moult of the following year; at this
stage they are termed “ greypates.”’ It is subject to consi-
derable varieties, and not unfrequently turns perfectly black.
The brightness of the tints varies considerably, and the female
is somewhat more dusky than the male. The tip of the bill
is sometimes horn-colour and sometimes black.

THE WHIN LINNET. 371

Susram. III.—COCCOTHRAUSTINA, Swarns.
Genus LINARIA, Sw. LINNET.

Wun Linnet, Linaria cannabina, Sw.

The Lintie,* on the heathery brae,
(Whare lies the nest amang the ferns)
Begins its lilt at break o’ day,
And at the gloaming hails the sterns.
Anonymous.

SynonymMs.—Fringilla linota, LATH. Ind. Orn.—GMEL. Linn.—Fringilla canna-
bina, Latu. Ind. Orn.—GMEL. Linn.—Common Linnet, LATH. Syn.—Grey
Linret, Bew. Br. Birds.—Brown Linnet, SeLBy’s Br. Orn.

Tue Whin Linnet, though of plain and unobtrusive plumage,
is a handsome bird, the shape, especially of the adult male,
being extremely elegant, and the tints beautifully laid out. The
head is remarkably round and innocent, and the eye bright and
beaming—so to speak—with benevolence. The bird stands
considerably more upright on the perch than most other mem-
bers of the family, and its manners, though elegant, varied and
pleasing, are much less quick and lively than those of the
Common, or even than the Siskin Goldwing. It is resident in
Britain, and extremely abundant in every part of the country ;
though, as with the preceding species, partial migrations take
place in some districts. These migrations, however, are not
prosecuted with the regularity observable in the motions of the
Common Goldwing, the whole number taking their departure
in some seasons, while in others they are resident throughout .
the year. In the autumn of 1833, not an individual was seen
after the sixth of November, in my neighbourhood, but in the
succeeding seasons I have not been able to ascertain that any
such migrations have taken place. _It is difficult to assign any

* The Scotch name for the Whin Linnet.
Eo 2

oye THE WHIN LINNET.

reason for this circumstance, as the few last winters have been
about equally mild, and there can have been no scarcity of
food in these parts, in the year that the species so suddenly and
unaccountably quitted us.

The Whin Linnet abounds mostly on furzy commons, and
frequents bleak, stony and trackless moors, though it always
prefers those that are covered with furze, or, as they are called
in Scotland, ‘‘ whins,”’ whence the English specific name which
I have thought proper to confer on it. In spring it approaches
gardens, shrubberies, and the immediate neighbourhood of
houses, where considerable numbers pass the summer months,
and in autumn again retire to the open unsheltered tracts,
which appear to form their more exclusive haunts at all seasons.
But though it is a bird of the furze and the brake, it is by no
means a hidling species, but on the contrary may constantly
be seen standing erect on the tops of the bushes, or sporting
over them on the wing. When disturbed, it flies off, to some
distance and at a considerable height, rarely dropping into the
bush for concealment, as is the case with most inhabitants of
brakes and thick sheltered groves. In the breeding season,
however, and especially when the young are recently hatched, I
have occasionally known it resort to this expedient; and then,
beat the bushes as much as you will, you will seldom succeed
in dislodging it from its retreat.

The present species is celebrated for its song, which is sweet,
extremely varied, and far from destitute of power. But there
is much difference between individuals ; some singing ina con-
tinuous manner, while others are continually pausing, and
“* mutilate all the strains.” The latter may probably be young
birds, and I am the more inclined to this opinion, from having
observed, in the domesticated birds, that the males improve in
their song the second year, and some even in the third year.
Notwithstanding the general melody of the notes, some few are
extremely harsh and unmusical, and these, when repeated often,
entirely destroy the beauty of the song. As a whole, however,
it is surpassed by that of no other member of the family, and is

THE WHIN LINNET. 373

well deserving of the high encomiums it has received from the
Ornithologists of every country in which it occurs. This
species is easily taught the notes of other birds, and might
doubtless easily be induced to whistle artificial airs and tunes.
Indeed such is the flexibility of its vocal organs, that it has
even been said to pronounce words with perfect distinctness,
though on what authority I know not, and cannot, therefore,
vouch for the fact.

The nest is constructed of moss, fine twigs and fibres, inter-
woven with wool, and sometimes with bits of blotting-paper
and other substances. The inside is lined with horse and cow
hair, but not, as mentioned by Srey, with feathers; at least
I do not remember to have met with a nest thus lined in this
neighbourhood. In addition to the horse hair, it is occasionally
lined with fine fibrous roots. The eggs, from four to six in
number, are of a blueish white, marked all over with reddish
brown spots, most thickly at the large end. The usual number
is five, but I have often seen so few as four, and on one occa-
sion so many as seven. They are rather elliptical, and vary
little, except as regards the intensity of the ground colour.

The nest is generally situated in a low bush, mostly furze.
In gardens the laurustinus is a favourite bush, but in lack of
this, almost any other will suffice. It is constructed on a twig,
and in the most leafy part of the bush. It is seldom met with
in trees, but I once found one at the top of a tall thick holly
bush. Another, that I have seen in a plantation near a furze-
common, was fixed at the top of a bare gate-post, in an unfre-
quented locality. About three years ago, I discovered one in
the leafy stump of a beech tree, with considerably more moss
and less twigs and wool than is usual in the structure. The
Whin Linnet rarely constructs its nest in out-houses, though I
have seen it in a low bush growing close to a saw-pit, and in
fact adjoining the wooden walls of the building. The above
instances are very remarkable, and may indeed be considered
in the light of deviations from its usual habits; but it very
commonly breeds in wall fruit trees, and especially pears.

374 THE WHIN LINNET.

All birds that build in wall fruit trees usually select the pear,
as affording thicker and closer foliage than almost any other
tree. On the whole, the present species exhibits little devia-
tion either in the formation or locality of its nest, though the
zealous observer may doubtless meet with a few in the course
of his researches.

The young seldom leave the nest until they are fully fledged,
when they are of a somewhat darker colour than adults, and
the sexes are scarcely distinguishable. But though the young
Whin Linnets commonly remain in the cradle until their
strength is fully matured, yet in emergencies they can act very
differently. Last spring I caused a nest which had been taken
by the gardener, near my residence, to be replaced. The
young birds, though but five days old, managed to make their
escape the same day. On another occasion I caged five Whin
Linnets, whose age I guessed to be about a week, leaving them
in the tenement in which they were hatched. By some chance
the door was left open; through this the parents constantly
entered and fed their offspring for some hours, after which the
latter departed, and were never seen afterwards. Now in both
these cases it is probable that the young birds were carried
away by the parents, it being obviously impossible for them
even to stand at that early age, but how the matter is managed,
I never had an opportunity of ascertaining.

By the older Ornithologists the present species was divided
into two, on account of the great difference between the plumage
of the young and adult birds, and likewise between the summer
and winter plumage of the adults. Before the spring moult of
the second year, they were termed “ Grey” or “‘ Brown Lin-
nets,’ and afterwards ‘‘ Redbreasted Linnets.”’ The true state
of the case appears to have been known to Linnazus, but the
circumstance was first placed beyond all doubt by our own acute
Ornithologist, Montacu. The supposed Redbreasted species
was, by Lewin, said to be somewhat smaller than the Grey
Linnet; but if there be any difference, the contrary must be
the case. This question has, however, been long satisfactorily

THE WHIN LINNET. 375

settled. Before the spring moult of the second year, the young
of both sexes bear considerable resemblance to the adult female,
except that they are a trifle smaller. The young females are
readily distinguished from the other sex by having the breast
of a paler colour, and the spots fewer, larger, and more dis-
tinctly marked. The female always remains the same, except
that her whole colour becomes somewhat lighter after the first
spring moult.. The male does not acquire its adult tints till
the spring of the second year, and seldom attains its full beauty
till the third year of its life. Nothing can then be more lovely
than the bright red scarf on the head and breast, especially
when the sun shines on them.

It is probable that the Whin Linnet lives considerably longer
than many other small birds, at least if we may judge from
the length of time which it takes in acquiring its adult plumage.
It would, however, seem that the individuals with red head and
breast are much scarcer than the young birds. It is difficult
to account for this circumstance, but the fact is certain. Out
of many dozens that I have killed in a single summer, only a
very small proportion of the males have had red on the head and
breast ; and out of the great numbers that annually breed in
these parts, only one amongst them is red-headed. I have
observed a difference between the offspring of the young and
adult birds; those of the latter being somewhat larger and
darker than the others; but the difference is only such as
might be effected by the age of the parents. In the autumn
the male loses its scarlet hues, which disappear gradually.
The red colour, from some unknown cause, never adorns the
birds reared in confinement, and even when the adult male, in
summer plumage, is caged, it soon loses them, and never
tegains them. In May 1833 I caught and imprisoned an adult
male, in mature plumage. In about a month it had scarcely
any red on the breast, though the head was almost as bright
as when the bird first came into my possession. This was
doubtless owing to its constantly banging itself against the
wires of its cage; but a fortnight longer destroyed the lustre

376 THE WHIN LINNET.

of the head also. Numbers of birds that I have at various
times reared from the nest, and kept for several years, always
remained in their immature plumage.

If reared from the nest, the Whin Linnet is a pleasing and
familiar cage bird, and very easily preserved. It will pair with
the Canary, but less readily than the Common Goldwing; and
a London bird-seller informs me that he once obtained a cross
between the Siskin Goldwing and the present species; but
though he has frequently since tried the same experiment, yet
could he never succeed a second time, as even the same in-
dividuals refused to pair the following year. The method
taken to ensure success, was as follows :—

A Common Goldwing and Whin Linnet, whose sexes had
previously been ascertained, were taken from the nest, and
confined separately, their cages being hung in rooms where no
other birds were within sight. After they had been thus
treated for eight or ten months, it will readily be imagined
that they would be glad enough to have a companion; and so
it happened; for scarcely had they been in the same cage a
week, when they paired, and the female shortly afterwards
built a nest. This she often pulled to pieces, as is a common
practice with cage birds; but at length she laid five eggs, in-
cubated them, and in due time three young birds were hatched.
Two of these were reared successfully, and I saw one of them
when I was in London, in July 1835. It most resembled the
Whin Linnet, which was the male, and sang very much like
that bird, but in a sweeter and more continuous manner. In
all crosses between birds of different species, it will be observed
that the progeny are more similar to the male than the female ;
and in the above instance, as usual, the male took no part in
the affairs of propagation, though in their natural state the
males of almost all Insessorial birds assist both in building the
nest, hatching the eggs, and rearing the young.

The food consists of various small seeds, and it is especially
partial to rape, turnip, flax, hemp, canary, thistle, rice, &c.;
but the latter can of course only be procured in confinement in

THE MOUNTAIN LINNET. By i

England. In winter it will likewise feed on “hips and haws,”
and in severe winters, when the snow lies long and thick on
the ground, I have even known it devour with avidity the
berries of the ivy, holly and mountain ash, which it divides
before swallowing. These, however, by no means form a part
of its usual subsistence, and are only resorted to in times of
need. It is also partial to the leaves and seed of the chick-
weed and groundsel, with which it should be plentifully sup-
plied in confinement. Ina cage it is of a quiet and peaceable
disposition, and rarely quarrels with its fellow-prisoners,

Its flight is light and bounding, and it frequently remains a
considerable time on the wing, ascending to a much greater
height in the air than is usual with the members of this family.
Towards the close of autumn it assembles in large flocks, and
scours the country in great numbers. The size of these flocks
varies according to the inclemency of the winter, being compa-
ratively small in mild seasons. Unlike many other gregarious
species it remains in the wilds in winter, or rather it resorts to
them at that season. It rarely frequents farm and rick yards,
and, so far as I have observed, it does not feed on corn at all.
It confers considerable benefits on the farmer, destroying great
numbers of weeds, by devouring the seeds, and I am not aware
that it is in any way injurious to man, though the ignorant
gardener destroys its nest equally with those of the House
Sparrow, Chaff Finch, and other noxious species.

Mountain Linnet, Linaria Montana, Wi.

Syvnonyms.—Linaria montana, WILL. Orn.—SELByY's Br. Orn.—Fringilla mon-
tium, GMEL. Linn.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Mountain Linnet, PENN. Br. Zool.—
LATH. Syn.—BEW. Br. Birds.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.

Tuts species is much rarer and more locally distributed than
the Whin Linnet, and occurs mostly in the mountainous and
elevated portions of Britain. [am informed that it is abundant
in the Peak of Derbyshire, and it cannot be considered rare
even in the flat part of that county. In this neighbourhood it

378 THE MOUNTAIN LINNET.

frequents tall trees, especially poplars, and is often met with
towards Hanbury, where I have shot several individuals, and
have more than once found its nest near that place. Its habits
much resemble those of the preceding species, but its motions
are somewhat more brisk and lively. As is the case with the
previous species, the red on the rump disappears, or at least
becomes faded in autumn, as I have ascertained by examining
specimens killed at various times of the year.

I have never heard this species utter any song, and probably
it has none, as authors make no mention of it. According to
British Ornithologists its common chirp or call-note resembles
the word twite, but I can discover little or no similarity between
the sounds. It is a single cry, chiefly uttered when any one
is near, and especially when it is suddenly approached and
disturbed. But this note is only employed on the perch or the
ground, the same chuck being used on the wing as by the
Whin Linnet. Like that species it often flies at a considerable
height, and remains long on the wing. In summer it is seen
single or in pairs, but in winter I have met with it in small
parties of ten or twelve. At other times it mingles with Whin
Linnets, Chaff Finches, Yellow Buntings, and various other
gregarious species, and, along with them, frequents the neigh-
bourhood of dwelling-houses, farms, &c. More frequently,
however, the species keep distinct, and remains in the high
grounds, being apparently only induced to approach the imme-
diate vicinity of houses by the example of the birds with which
it assembles. It often frequents furzy commons, on the top of
which it may be seen perched, and uttering its note. It stands
less upright on the perch than the Whin Linnet, but more so
than the Goldwings.

The nest is situated in a thick furze bush, or amongst the
heath, and consists of dry grass and the dead tops of the heath,
lined with fibrous roots, the flowers of the heath, and occa-
sionally with wool. I have only found its nest three or
four times in my immediate neighbourhood, but much more
frequently on the borders of Staffordshire, and on the hills

THE REDPOLL LINNET. 379

beyond Tutbury, in that county. The eggs, four, five, or even
six in number, are of a pale apple green, spotted with light
reddish brown.

It feeds on the seeds of various plants, as turnip, flax, thistle,
groundsel, &c., with which it should likewise be supplied in
confinement. According to SeLpy, “ it leaves the mountains
in autumn, assembling in flocks, which associate and travel
with the Whin Linnet.’”’ In winter it is certainly less abun-
dant than at other times, but I have seen it here in the middle
of December and the beginning of January.

Reppoiyt Linnet, Linaria pusilla, Buytu.

I wadna gie the Lintie’s sang,
Sae merry on the broomy lea,
For a’ the notes that ever rang
Frae a’ the harps o’ minstrelsy !
Mair dear to me whare buss or breer
Amang the pathless heather grows,
The Lintie’s wild, sweet note to hear,
As on the ev ning breeze it flows.
Anonymous.

SYNONYMS.—Fringilla linaria, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Fringilla flaviros-
tris, LINN. Syst.—Latu. Ind. Orn.—Linaria minor, Ricu. & Sw. North. Zool.—
SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Linaria pusilla, Alder Linnet, Analyst, No. 14.

Tuts handsome little creature is resident throughout the year
in the midland counties, or at least the greater number remain
with us at all seasons, though I believe some do retire in sum-
mer. It is everywhere commoner than the preceding species,
and less locally distributed, but it is considerably shyer and of
more retired habits than the Whin Linnet, and appears to be
little known even in the places where itis most common. Thus
in the flat portion of Derbyshire it is as plentiful as the Whin
Linnet, especially during the inclement seasons, though it is
little noticed by the ordinary observer. Its haunts differ from
those of either of the other British species, but approach nearest

380 THE REDPOLL LINNET.

to those of the Mountain Linnet. Throughout the year it fre-
quents woods and groves bordering on streams, and is partial to
hilly localities. Its manners, however, greatly resemble those
of the Whin Linnet, and it is therefore unnecessary to give a
detailed account of these.

The song is short and sweet, but by no means powerful. It
is seldom uttered on the top of a bush, or on the wing, but
usually from the upper branches of large trees. I have fre-
quently heard it sing inthe middle of January, whilst they yet
remain in flocks, and the whole troop will sit singing on the
same tree for hours together. At these times they are difficult
of approach, the whole flock taking wing simultaneously on
the slightest suspicion of alarm. But when feeding, it may be
approached within a few yards, and is sometimes taken with a
fishing rod smeared with birdlime.

The nest consists of dry grass, intermixed with a small por-
tion of moss, and lined with the soft catkins of the willow and
other trees, which are “ felted” in a very beautiful manner.
It is situated in low bushes, and even in trees, where it is
often placed in the fork of a branch. A very favourite site is
amongst the leaves at the bottom of osiers, where I have seen
five or six ina single bed. In the garden belonging to Foston
Hall, I have only known one instance of its building, at the
top of a young oak tree; this nest was taken, and the species
has never built since in those grounds. Indeed it seldom
enters gardens at any time, and very rarely in summer. But
in winter it is abundant in almost every wood situate on a rising
ground, bordering on, or intersected by, lakes or running
streams, which it frequents in small packs. The largest flock
I ever saw, was near Hilton in Derbyshire, about two years
ago, towards the end of February, which I watched for a con-
siderable time, wheeling round the village. At length they
alighted in an extensive wood near which I was standing, but
soon took wing, and were not seen afterwards. Subsequent
to this no Redpoll Linnets were observed in this neighbourhood
for two months, but in the middle of April they again made

THE REDPOLL LINNET. 381

their appearance, and spread themselves throughout the coun-
try, where they remained plentiful throughout the year. It is
most probable that the large flock seen near Hilton had been
joined by all the birds in the county, and had made a partial
migration; and that on the dispersion of the forces, the de-
serters returned to their old quarters. A few were indeed
treated as deserters, and shot.

The eggs are four or five in number, of a pale apple green,
spotted at the larger end with reddish brown.

Its food consists of various kinds of seeds, in seeking which
it hangs on the under side of the branches, in the manner of
the Tits, the Kinglets, &c., which it greatly resembles in
manners, though it is perhaps less quick and lively in its
motions. It likewise feeds on the buds of forest trees, though
I am not aware that it commits any extensive depredations in
this line; or at least the trees which thus afford it sustenance,
never appear to be injured by the process.

The call-note of this species differs from that of the Whin
Linnet, though when perched it occasionally utters the same
chuck. Like the latter species, it chirps at regular intervals
while on the wing.

In confinement it is easily preserved, and soon becomes tame
and familiar. One that I saw in London some years ago,
would feed out 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 al] 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 con-
taining 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 fol-
lowed 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

382 THE MEALY LINNET.

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

themselves 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.

Meaty Linnet, Linaria canescens, GouLpD.

SyNonyMs.—Linaria canescens, GOULD’S Birds of Europe.—EyTon’s Continuation
of Bewick.—Mealy Redpole, GouLD’s Birds of Europe.—EyTon’s Continuation
of Bewick.

Or this species Mr. Eyton says:—‘‘ Gouxp is the first
Naturalist who has noticed this bird as being distinct from the
Redpoll Linnet. The first mention of his discovery is made in
his work on The Birds of Europe. The points in which he
states that it chiefly differs, are the following :—Its superiority
in size, its conspicuous greyish white rump, the broad band
across the wings, the light stripe across the eye, andthe mealy
appearance of the plumage. The description in the Fauna
Boreali Americana, he states to be identical with his Mealy
Linnet.

«‘ WILson omits to give any description of the Redpoll Lin-
net; and Professor JAMESON, in his edition, to fill up the
vacancy, gives the description of some birds obtained by him-
self in the winter of 1812-13, which I have little doubt were
Mealy Linnets.

« The practical bird-catchers near London, Goutp informs
us, have been always in the habit of regarding the Mealy Lin-
net as distinct from the lesser one. But Goutp, notwithstanding
what has been stated above, does not consider the species as
established ; for, at the conclusion of his account, he says,

THE MEALY LINNET. 383

that a further knowledge of this bird, and especially of the
changes which it undergoes, will, at a future period, determine
whether or not the specific name of canescens must eventually
stand or fall.

“ The bird is not very uncommon about London, and other
places. It has occurred to ourselves in Shropshire. Its habit
is similar to that of the Redpoll Linnet.”

In addition to the above account, I have much pleasure in
offering to my readers the foliowing original information, from
the pen of my friend Biytu :—

«With regard to the Mealy Linnet, I am now pretty well
convinced of its distinctness from the Whin Linnet, though
when last I wrote to you, I believe I expressed some doubts on
the subject. The fact is, that I had not seen a specimen of the
smaller one for some time previously, and so closely does L.
canescens resemble it in form and plumage, in its manners, and
even in its notes—though the latter are certainly louder—that,
from not having compared the two species, [ had imagined the
difference to be less than it actually is. Ata friend’s house,
however, I happened to see a caged pair of the common species,
which immediately struck me as being remarkably small; and
on these being, by my desire, sent to my residence, to be com-
pared with my larger bird, the latter was found to be so supe-
rior in size as to preclude all possibility of its being a mere
variety, however similar may be its plumage. There is, | now
find, a very slight appearance of red on one or two of the fea-
thers of the rump, but the conspicuously whitish plumage of
this part generally, furnishes, in conjunction with its greater
size, a ready means of distinguishing it from the Redpoll Lin-
net. The following is a curious and interesting indication of
the superior size of the Mealy Linnet ; both are very fond of
hempseed, but the smaller species, as you may have observed,
hardly ever manages to crack one, on account of the small size
of its beak, and consequently, unless you give them some
already bruised, it is obliged to leave them untouched, with
the exception of an unusually small sized one. But the Mealy

384 THE HAW GROSBEAK.

Linnet would feed exclusively on hemp, if I suffered him to do
so, and shell, with the utmost facility, the very largest of
them. I greatly desire to raise a brood of hybrids between the
two species ; for if the mules refuse to pair with each other, an
excellent proof will thus be obtained of their being perfectly
distinct species. As yet I have not heard the Mealy Linnet
sing.”

In a subsequent communication, the same writer says :—

«« T have now repeatedly heard the song of the Mealy Linnet,
which differs from that of the species with which it has been
confounded. Its call-note is precisely similar to that of the
Redpoll Linnet, but its song less resembles that of the Common
Goldwing. The call-note is introduced equally often, but is
intermingled with a low harsh note, somewhat like that of the
Mountain Linnet, but not nearly so loud. It is the most mu-
sical of the four British species.”

I may refer my readers to Eyron’s History of the Rarer
British Birds, for a beautiful representation of the Mealy Linnet,
and likewise to GouLn’s Birds of Europe.

Genus COCCOTHRAUSTES, Briss. GROSSBEAK.

Haw Groszeax, Coccothraustes crategus, BiytTH.

Synonyms.—Loxia coccothraustes, Linn. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Fringilla
coccothraustes, TEMM. Man. d’Orn.—Coccothraustes vulgaris, FLEM. Brit.
Anim.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Coccothraustes crategus, Haw Grosbeak, Analyst,

No. 14.

Tus large and rare species has never fallen under my obser-
vation in its live state. It is said to be chiefly confined to the
southern counties, subsisting on the berries of the white-thorn,
“«« the stones of which it breaks with the greatest ease, by means
of its strong and massive bill. In its native haunts, the seed
of the platanus, kernels of cherry-stones, almonds, and other
stone-fruit, furnish its principal support. In this country, we
are informed, it is never seen in large flocks, though it is pro-
bably gregarious in its more favourite localities.”

THE HAW GROSBEAK. 385

Mr. Jesse has the following remarks in his amusing Glean-
ings :—

“In opposition to these remarks [the opinions of authors],
I can express my conviction, not only that the [Haw] Grosbeak
stays with us all the year, but that it breeds in this country.
Being a rare bird, it is shot at whenever it is seen, for the pur-
pose of being preserved, and sold to collectors; and this cir-
cumstance alone would account for so little being known
respecting it. The nests of this bird are, however, frequently
found amongst the hornbeam pollards in Epping Forest, and
the bird may be seen there at all periods of the year. It has
also bred for some years past in the grounds of Lord Clifden, at
Roehampton, and may be seen there all the year through : at
this time (March, 1835) there are two pair of them; and anest,
with four young ones, was taken Jast summer, and is now in
the possession of the lodge keeper, the birds being preserved.
The nest was built at the extremity of the branch of an horse
chesnut tree, near the lodge, and was composed chiefly of the
twigs of the privet and birch, and lined with hair and fine
grass. Brwicxk says it is made of small dry roots, none of
which, however, are to be seen in the nest in question. I
should add, that the nest is shallow, and the twigs are loosely
put together, something like that of the Wood Pigeon. The
birds do not appear to be either shy or solitary, as they frequent
the neighbourhood of the lodge, where they may be seen almost
daily. It does not sing, but has a plaintive note, something
like that of the Robin [Redbreast]. It generally settles on the
high dead branches of trees.”’

386 THE GREEN GROSBEAK.

GREEN GrosBEAK, Coccothraustes chloris, FLEM.

Up—let us to the fields away,
And breathe the fresh and balmy air;
The bird is building in the tree,
The flower has opened to the bee,
And health, and love, and peace are there!
Mary Howitt.

_

SynonyMs.—Loxia chloris, Linn Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Fringilla chloris,
Temm. Man. d’Orn.—Coccothraustes chloris, FLEM. Br. Anim.—SELBY’S Br.
Orn.—Green Grosbeak, SELBy’s Br. Orn.

Tue Green Grosbeak, though thick in shape and rather
heavy in appearance, is nevertheless a handsome bird, the tints
of the adult male being beautifully bright, but those of the
female are of a dull brown. The look of the male may almost
be said to be fierce, though that of the female is mild and plea-
sant. The species is indigenous and extremely abundant in
every part of the country, though it appears to prefer flat and
well-wooded localities to the more bleak and elevated districts.
It is likewise partial to places abounding with holly trees, and
is frequently seen in gardens and the immediate neighbourhood
of houses, where it roosts in great numbers in autumn and
winter, in almost any kind of large thick bush, but especially
holly, box, and Portugal laurel. Sometimes also it passes the
night in ivy-clad trees, along with the flocks of House Sparrows,
but this, I believe, is not a common occurrence.

About the middle of autumn, or at the commencement of
winter, the Green Grosbeaks collect in very large flocks, and
approach the farm and rick yards, in company with Chaff
Finches, Whin Linnets, Yellow Buntings, House Sparrows,
and other birds. More frequently, however, the species remains
single, that is, it keeps distinct from the other species, and is
much less destructive to the interests of the farmer than the
above-named birds. At this season they are easily caught at

THE GREEN GROSBEAK. 387

night, with bat fowling nets, by which method J have taken
many dozens ina single night. The most prolific bushes—so
to speak—are hollies and Portugal laurels, in which great
numbers are frequently captured. In these nocturnal excursions
I have observed a very remarkable circumstance, namely, that
in twenty or thirty birds only one will be a male; and I have
often remained out for several hours in this pursuit without
taking a single male. From this we may infer that the sexes
separate on the approach of the inclement seasons ; and that the
males either quitthe country entirely at that period, or make a
partial migration. Which of these is the case, I can at present
only conjecture, but the fact might easily be ascertained, by
collecting the observations of Ornithologists in various parts of
the country.

That the males are as abundant as the females, I think there
can be no doubt, and 1 never remember to have seen an adult
female in the breeding season, unpaired. Another remarkable
circumstance is, that each nest usually contains birds of the
same sex. Whether or not this is always the case, I cannot
positively say, though it very frequently holds good; and the
same may be said of the Chaff Finch and a few others of the
family.

The call-notes of the Green Grosbeak are two in number.
The first and commonest, which is uttered at all seasons, is a
kind of chuck, somewhat similar to that of the Whin Linnet.
It usually flies in silence, but occasionally utters a short sharp
chirp. But the most remarkable is the note resembling—as
near as it can be expressed in writing—peewit, though of course
the consonants cannot be pronounced. It is a lively, pleasant
sound, chiefly heard in the breeding season, but occasionally
also at other times. This is employed by both sexes, but most
commonly by the male, especially when any one is at or near the
nest, At this time the female usually joins in the hue and cry.
In its natural state the male will sometimes sit for hours toge-
ther ona railing orhoneysucklestand, uttering this peewit, which,
though pleasing at first, becomes, when thus constantly heard,

cc2

388 THE GREEN GROSBEAK.

monotonous and tiresome in the extreme. But in confinement
it chiefly uses the chuck, which consists of several short notes,
blended into one long trill. Even when the males are caught
in May or June, they immediately discontinue their peewtt,
when caged, though I have occasionally heard an individual,
thus situated, calling to its mate, when no one was near, and
the bird supposed itself unnoticed.

The song is perhaps more trivial than that of any of our
other choristers, consisting only of a few harsh notes often re-
peated. One or two are softer and sweeter than the rest, but
the majority are loud and unmelodious, and the whole forms
such a confused, stuttering jabber, as to render it wholly un-
worthy of the attention of the bird-fancier. This species com-
mences singing rather late, usually about the middle of April,
but earlier or later according to circumstances. It is not a
continuous or garrulous songster, and is rather a silent bird in
confinement.

According to some writers, it may be induced to feed from
the hand ten minutes after its capture, by taking it into a dark
room, stroking it with the finger, gradually letting in the light,
and then offering it hemp or canary seed. That this method
has never answered, I am not prepared to assert; but I have
myself tried it several times without success. Without going
to such an extremity, it will be sufficient to observe, that the
Green Grosbeak is of a tame and familiar disposition, and
though it flutters considerably when first taken, yet it becomes
perfectly reconciled to its lot in about a fortnight. It is re-
markably fond of washing, and, when thus occupied, will suffer
no other bird to approach it, though it is usually peaceably in-
clined,

The Green Grosbeak breeds rather late, the first eggs being
laid about the middle of May, and not at the end of that
month, as mentioned by Setpy. Some nests, indeed, are built
much earlier, and I have, in one instance, seen young birds,
several days old, at the commencement of May, and have twice
found eggs so early as the end of April. These, however, it

THE GREEN GROSBEAK. 389

must be observed, occurred in remarkably mild springs, and,
on the whole, this species must be considered as one of the
latest breeders of the family.

The materials of the nest are moss, wool and sticks, loosely
woven together, and forming rather a large and straggling
structure. It is lined with horse and cow hair, feathers, and
sometimes a few fine fibres of roots, though the latter do not
form an essential part of the nest. Its usual site is a low thick
bush, especially the holly and Portugal laurel, to which it is
extremely partial. I have known three instances of its build-
ing in ivy-clad trees, and have once found it in an ivy-wall,
close to a farm-house, where there were several nests of the
House Sparrow. In the latter locality, however, it had little
success, as the tenement was broken into and plundered, early
one morning, by a “strange cat,’’ which had seized a lucky
opportunity, when no one was near, and the parents were de-
parted in search of food. I have likewise seen its nest near
the end of the arm of a large elm tree, and several times at the
top of the trunk of lofty forest trees, where the arms begin to
branch out. Until about two years ago, I was not aware that
it ever built in trees, but have since met with so many in-
stances of it, that it can scarcely be considered an extraordinary
occurrence, ;

It pays remarkable attention to its progeny, and though it
never attempts to lead the intruder from its nest, the parents
make the most unceasing wailings when any one is near, or
when the young are carried off, sometimes fluttering close to
your head, and endeavouring to annoy you in every possible
way. The young do not quit the cradle until fully fledged,
and often dart out simultaneously when any one approaches.
They are mostly fed on green caterpillars and small insects, of
which the species destroy immense numbers at this period. It
would appear that authors are wholly unaware of its insecti-
vorous habits, and in Partineron’s Cyclopedia of Natural
History, article ‘ Frincittip#,” it is expressly stated that
the young of the Green Grosbeak are fed entirely on seeds,

390 THE GREEN GROSBEAK.

which is quite a mistake. The young birds are by no means
noisy or clamorous, either in the nest or afterwards, but gene-
rally lie very still, even when the parents approach with food
in their bills. And this often proves an inconvenience to them ;
for when caged, and lodged in a place distant from the nest,
the parents have frequently great difficulty in discovering them,
and indeed the latter sometimes perish in the mean time. But,
on the other hand, it is perhaps as frequently advantageous to
them, as the nest can never be disclosed by means of their
chirping.

The eggs, four, five, or sometimes six in number, are of a
pale blueish white, spotted at the larger end, and very thinly all
over, with irregular markings of reddish brown. They are
large and rather sharp at the small end; they vary consider-
ably, but mostly in the number, distribution, and colour of the
spots. In a nest brought to me last year, there were three
ordinary eggs, and one of about half the usual size, without
markings of any kind. On another occasion I have seen one
which was apparently double yolked, but I left it in the nest
with the view of ascertaining whether it would be productive,
and omitted to return to it afterwards.*

The motions of the present species are considerably slower
than those of most other Fringillide, though its manners are
pleasing, and even varied. larly in spring, or as soon as the
warm weather begins to set in, the flocks break up and dis-
perse, and pair soon afterwards. At this period fierce battles
take place between the males, for favourite females, and a
female may frequently be seen pursued amongst the trees, by
two or even more males. This I have observed late in the sea-
son, and therefore there can be no scarcity of males.

The food consists of various kinds of seeds and corn, and
likewise insects and their larve, but I cannot say to which it is

* Double yolked eggs are generally supposed to be unproductive; this, how-
ever, is a mistake; as I once broke a tame Ring Duck’s egg which contained two
birds, nearly ready for hatching, and other instances of a similar nature have
since fallen under my observation.

THE PIPPIN CROSSBILL. 391

most partial. In winter, when it assembles in considerable
flocks, it feeds mostly on corn, associating with other grani-
vorous birds; in autumn on the seeds of various plants and
grasses, and in spring and summer on insects, which, however,
are only taken in addition to seeds and grain. It likewise
feeds on the seeds and leaves of the groundsel and chickweed,
in which it is very serviceable to the gardener and farmer,
though these benefits are partly counterbalanced by its grani-
vorous propensities. But on the whole it may be considered
beneficial to our interests. In autumn I have seen it eat the
berries of the hawthorn, and it is particularly partial to those
of a curious species of thorn, bearing large, double-stoned
fruit, which are favourites with all the baccivorous birds in the
neighbourhood. In confinement it subsists on almost any kind
of oily seed, and on corn.

Suspram. IV.—PYRRHULINA, Vie.
Genus CRUCIROSTRA, Mery. CROSSBILL.

Pippin CrossBiti, Crucirostra vulgaris, STEpu.

SyNoNnyMs.—Loxia curvirostra, LINN. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—SELByY’S Br. Orn.
—Crucirostra vulgaris, STEPH. Gen. Zool.—MErEy. & WOLFF, Tasch. Deut.—
Crucirostra malum, Analyst, No.14.—Common Crossbill, SELBy’s Br. Orn.—
Pippin Crossbill, Analyst, No. 14.

In no part of England can the Pippin Crossbill be said to be
plentiful, and it often appears at long intervals. In Derbyshire
I never met with it till the winter of the present year, when I
saw a small flock in a fir plantation near my residence; but
they tarried but a short time, and there was no opportunity of
observing their habits. It can only be considered in the light
of an occasional visitant. It probably breeds in Britain, though
I believe the fact has not yet been ascertained to be the case.
SELBY says :—

** Many of the females that I killed showed plainly, from the
denuded state of their breasts, that they had been engaged in

392 THE PIPPIN CROSSBILL.

incubation some time previous to their arrival ; which circum-
stance agrees with the account given of ie early period at
which they breed in the higher latitudes. * * * i

“In the southern parts of the kingdom, during their occa-
sional visits, they commit great havoc in the apple and pear
orchards, by splitting the fruit in halves, for the sake of the
inclosed pips. Their principal support, however, is derived
from the seeds of the various firs, which they easily obtain by
the lateral expansion of their bill, when inserted between the
scales of the cone.

‘“« The manners of these birds are interesting when in a state
of confinement, as they strongly resemble the Parrot family in
climbing along the wires of the cage in any direction, by means
of their bill and claws. The call-notes of the [Pippin] Cross-
bill are a kind of twitter, which it constantly repeats when
feeding; and a louder one, uttered when on wing, not unlike
that of the Green Grosbeak, but rather shriller. According to
WILLUGHBY, and the older authors, it also possesses a pleasant
song, only heard during the winter months, or season of incu-
bation.

** The Pippin Crossbill is of a thick form; its legs are
strong, but short, and with long and hooked claws, well
adapted for taking firm hold.

“The muscles attached to the bill are very powerful, giving
a large and disproportionate appearance to the head. The
crossing of the mandible is not always on the same side, as I
have repeatedly observed in the specimens killed, and have ac-
cordingly thus represented in the plate.”

Amongst various communications from Mr. Biytu, I find
the following observations relative to the present species :—

*‘T have procured a live male Crossbill, and also a dead
female, which I have stuffed. Their chirp is very loud,—a sort
of chipp ; my bird has also a pleasing song.”

In another letter he says :—

“‘My Crossbill continues well and hearty, and is a very
amusing bird, but at times rather annoying, from the loudness

THE PIPPIN CROSSBILL. 393

of its chirping. I keep it in astrong and large cage, in com-
pany with a Tree Pipit and Garden Fauvet, with which it agrees
very well. It climbs about with its bill, like a Parrot, and is
very mischievous in destroying the perches, picking them to
pieces by means of its curious and powerful bill. It is a very
strongly built bird, and more allied to the Goldwings and Lin-
nets than one would imagine from only seeing stuffed specimens.
When lively it swings its body about in the manner of those
birds. It is remarkably tame and fearless. When I first had
it, it was in nestling plumage, resembling much that of a female
Siskin Goldwing, or Redpoll Linnet, longitudinally streaked.
It is now nearly all over red. Its song is of a chirping or
rather warbling kind, low and not unpleasing. It feeds mostly
on hemp, rejecting the other seeds which are usually given to
the Fringillide, and it is very fond of nut, almond, walnut,
and the like, the shells of which it readily splits with its bill,
if I first make a very slight hole in them. It is a most cease-
lessly active species, and has no kind of affinity to the Hedge
Coalhood.”

On Nov. 21, he thus writes to me :—

“On Sunday morning my poor Crossbill was found dead in
his cage. It died of apoplexy, induced by its having become
over fat, and just as it was undergoing an interesting change
of colour, the progress of which I should like to have observed.
However, it lived long enough to afford me much information
on the peculiar habits of the species, on its various notes, song,
&c.—information which could never have been so thoroughly
acquired by observing them in their wild state, much less from
an inspection of stuffed specimens. The quantity of fat this
bird had accumulated, is really astonishing, yet when alive he
was always remarkably active; it rendered him extremely
difficult to skin, so as to keep the grease away from the feathers.”

394 THE WHITEWINGED CROSSBILL.

Pine CrossBiuu, Crucirostra pinetorum, Mery.

SyNoNyMs.—Loxia pytiopsittacus, Becust. Tasch. Deut.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.—
Crucirostra pinetorum, Mey. Vig. Liv. und Esthi.—Analyst, No. 14.—Parrot
Crossbill, SELBY’s Br. Orn.—Pine Crossbill, Analyst, No. 14.

Tue Pine Crossbill is an extremely rare species in Britain,
only two or three specimens having, at distant periods, been
met with. It is figured by Se.sy, from an individual sent him
by Sir Witi1am Jarpine. “In its manners,” SELBY says, “ it
resembles the other species of this singular genus (the Pippin
Crossbill), and, like them, inhabits the pine forests of the
Arctic regions. According to Temminck, it visits Poland,
Prussia, and other parts of Germany during the winter months,
and breeds at that season. The eggs are stated to be four or
five in number, of an ash-grey colour, marked at the greater
end with large irregular spots of blood-red, and over the rest of
the surface with minute specks of the same.”

A description of the plumage may be found in the works of all
the Ornithologists who have noticed the bird; it will, there-
fore, be unnecessary to repeat it here, especially as I have
nothing new or original to add.

WHITEWINGED CrossBILL, Crucirostra leucoptera, STEPH.

SynonyMs.—Loxia leucoptera, GMEL. Linn.—EvyTon’s Contin. of Bew.—Cru-
cirostra leucoptera, STEFH. Gen. Zool.—N. Woon’s Orn. Text-book.—Curviros-
tra leucoptera, WILS. Amer. Orn.—Whitewinged Crossbill, STEPH. Gen Zool._—
WILs. Amer. Orn.—EvyTon’s Contin. of Bew.—N. Woon’s Orn. Tezt-book.

In Mr. Eyton’s History of the Rarer British Birds, we find
the following account of this species :—

‘“The Whitewinged Crossbill appears, from the account of
Witson, to be of much rarer occurrence in America than the
Pippin Crossbill (Crucirostra vulgaris), though found frequent-
ing the same places at the same seasons. We are told, in a

THE PINE THICKBILL. 395

work lately published,* that this bird inhabits the dense white-
spruce forests of the fir countries, feeding principally on the
seed of the cone, which the form of its bill is particularly
adapted to extract. In the same work, also, we are told, that
it ranges through the whole breadth of the Continent, and,
probably, up to the sixty-eighth parallel, where woods cease ;
though it was not observed higher than the sixty-second. In
winter it retires from the coast into the interior. An account
of a specimen of this bird, shot near Belfast in January 1802,
in the Linnean Transactions, is our authority for introducing it
into the British Fauna.

“The general colour of the plumage of the male White-
winged Crossbill is deep crimson ; tail, black ; wings also black,
with two bars of white; vent white; frontlet and cere, brown ;
length, five to five-and-a-half inches; bill, horn colour. The
general colour of the female is greenish brown, with a yellow
rump. The young, before they moult, resemble the female.

“The above woodcut is taken from a specimen in the col-
lection of Witu1am YARRELL, Esq., of a male bird in the
plumage of the second year.”

Genus DENSIROSTRA, C.T. Woop. THICKBILL.

Pine Tuicksiut, Densirostra enucleator, C. T. Woop.

Synonyms.—Loxia enucleator, Linn. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—Coccothraustes
Canadensis, Briss. Orn.—Pyrrhula enucleator, TEMM. Man. d’Orn.—SELBY’S
Br. Orn—Densirostra éenucleator, Analyst, No. 14.—Pine Grosbeak, PENN. Br.
Zool.—Fine Thickbill, Analyst, No. 14.

PENNANT appears to be the only Naturalist who has met
with this species in Britain, and its claims to our notice are, ac-
cordingly, very slight. In England it has never been known to
occur.

“T have,” says SeLpy, “made many inquiries respecting

* The Fauna Boreali Americana, by RicHARDSON and SWAINSON.

396 THE HEDGE COALHOOD.

these birds, during excursions in Scotland, but cannot learn
that the nest has ever been found ; and indeed from the intelli-
gence obtained from gamekeepers, and those most likely to have
made observations connected with Ornithology, it appears that
they are very rarely seen, and can only be regarded as occa-
sional visitants.

‘They inhabit the regions of the arctic circle, and are very
plentiful in Sweden, Norway, and similarly situated countries
of Europe, Asia, and North America, living in the pine forests,
which there cover immense tracts.—Their food consists of the
seeds of the various firs and pines, as well as other alpine seeds
and berries, and the buds of trees.—They build in trees, but
not far from the ground, and the nest, formed of dry sticks and
small twigs, lined with feathers, contains generally four white
eggs.”

Genus PYRRHULA, Briss. COALHOOD.

Hepcre Coaruoop, Pyrrhula vulgaris, Tem.

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 !’’ Bethia said,
‘« His head of glossy jet I spy,
His downy breast of softest red ;
Poor bird! I hear his whooping cry.”
Anonymous.

Synonyms.—Loxia pyrrhula, LINN. Syst.—LAtTH. Ind. Orn.—Pyrrhula vulgaris,
TemmM. Man. d'Orn.—Se.py’s Br. Orn.—Pyrrhula modularis, Analyst, No. 14.
—Bull Finch, Mont. Orn. Dict.— Hedge Coalhood, Analyst, No. 14.—N.

Woop’s Orn. Text-book.

Tus beautiful and well-known bird is common throughout
Britain, but most so in the sheltered and well-wooded districts,
where it inhabits the depths of the thickest and most impene-
trable forests, but likewise small woods, groves, and copses,

THE HEDGE COALHOOD. 397

whence it often comes into gardens and the immediate neigh-
bourhood of houses, in search of food.

Few authors have taken notice of the song of this bird, and
are probably not aware that it possesses any in its wild state.
That such is the case, however, is very certain, though the
notes are so low and soft, that it is perhaps no wonder they
should have escaped the observation of our Ornithologists.
The strains are unconnected, but are sweet, varied and melo-
dious, though the whole forms a somewhat desultory song.
in confinement it seldom retains it in its native purity, and
unmixed with artificial notes. It is easily taught to whistle
tunes, and every one must have heard the “piping bulfinches’’
which are annually imported from Germany. Many are taught
in London, and even in several of the provincial towns of
England ; but the best are brought from Germany, the natives
of that country being, from their remarkable patience, emi-
nently well fitted for the task.

When I was in London in the summer of 1835, a German
advertised himself in the newspapers as having lately brought
over a fine stock of piping Coalhoods, which he offered for
sale. Being somewhat interested in these matters, I accordingly
called on him next morning, and was shown into a room hung
all round with small cages, each ‘containing a male Hedge
Coalhood. They appeared to be in excellent health and feather,
but were extremely hungry and had nothing in their seed-draw-
ers. As I walked round and surveyed them, each bird opened its
beak at me, and screamed for food, forming altogether a pretty
loud “piping.” Whether or not they were capable of better
music, I know not; for on calling on the man to let me hear
one of his birds, he replied, ‘‘ will you buy one?” I told him
that I certainly would not before I had heard it sing. He
appeared somewhat sullen, and refused to make his flock sing
unless I promised to purchase one, and I therefore ieft him to
settle his affairs as he best could. How this person would
get on in Germany, I cannot determine, but in England
I think it little likely that he would dispose of many of his
birds.

398 THE HEDGE COALHOOD.

The common call-note of this bird is a short, sweet, and
plaintive chirp, constantly uttered whilst on the perch. It is
beautifully alluded to by THomson in the following line—

‘© The mellow bullfinch answers from the grove.”

It is delightful to follow the Hedge Coalhood amongst the
shady groves to which it is so partial, and its shyness and
difficulty of approach only serves to increase the ardour of the
true Ornithologist in his researches after it. Early in spring,
when it enters our gardens and orchards, and seeks its food
amongst the shrubs and wall fruit trees, is the best time for
observing it, as it then becomes considerably tamer than at
other periods, and may easily be approached within a very
short distance. But of course the Naturalist will not be
contented with being acquainted with its habits only at one
season ; and in winter, when the snow lies thick on the
ground, it again issues forth from its summer retreats, and is
common in every hedge and highway, flitting but a short way
before the traveller, as he heedlessly passes along the road.
But during the greater part of the spring and summer months,
it requires the enthusiasm of the professed Ornithologist
successfully to hunt it out in the recesses of the woods, where
it must be followed day after day, and week after week, to
gain a competent knowledge of its habits. At this period it
would be even less noticed than it is, were it not for its pleasing
and plaintive call-note, which, though not remarkable for
power, is heard at a considerable distance, owing to the clear
and ringing nature of the cry. It never flies far, but passes from
tree to tree in quick succession, when it finds itself pursued.
Its organ of Secretiveness is considerably developed, and though,
when undisturbed, it mostly keeps in the trees, yet, when
approached in an unwary manner, it drops down into the
bushes or brakes beneath, where it seems aware that it is
perfectly secure. And so it might be, were it not for its almost
incessant chirping, which it is unwilling to intermit for even
the shortest time. But even here the Naturalist finds means
of observing it, which he effects by sitting down amongst the
long grass, in which he may partially, or sometimes wholly

THE HEDGE COALHOOD. 399

conceal himself. If you lie quite still, the birds will shortly
rise to the top of the bushes, casting fearful and furtive glances
around. But if you move not, they testify no kind of alarm at
your presence, though the slightest motion on your part, sets the
whole party on the wing. The adult female is almost always
the first to make its appearance, but, if she gives a favourable
report, the rest will shortly join her, and you have before you
the charming sight presented by a family of these truly lovely
birds. They are usually met with in troops of six or seven,
consisting of the parents and their offspring. At the approach
of spring, however, the families break up and disperse, the old
male and female again undertaking the cares of incubation, and
the young birds pairing as soon as they can select suitable
mates. The males do not acquire their delicate adult tints till
about two months after they leave the nest, and attain their full
beauty and vigour in the spring of the third year. It is probable
that they begin to decline about the eighth or ninth year, but
of this I cannot speak with any certainty. Immediately on
quitting the nest, the sexes precisely resemble each other, and
are of a uniform brown colour. But in about seven or eight
weeks’ time, the brown on the head gives place to a bright and
glossy purplish black, and the other hues, which at all times
distinguish the adult male, shortly displace the dull colour
which had before prevailed.

The manners of this species are not remarkably brisk and
lively, nor even varied, but they are social and pleasing, and
nothing can, 19 my opinion, 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 male’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 ob-
served, and when the female is on the nest, her mate frequently
sits for hours together on a neighbouring branch, sounding his
plaintive note, or amusing her with his curious whining song.
Unless you see him singing, you miss the best part of the per-

400 THE HEDGE COALHOOD.

formance. 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. 1
have frequently watched this interesting manceuvre; but no
sooner does the bird find himself observed, than he shrinks to
his ordinary size, alarms his mate, and with her flies to a dis-
tant tree, where they remain out of sight, but within hearing,
waiting the event, and sounding their mellow note.

There can be no doubt but the Hedge Coalhood pairs for life,
as is the case with many other non-gregarious species, and the
young brood remain with their parents until the succeeding
spring. It breeds rather late, the nest being seldom finished
before the beginning of June, and, unless the nest meet with
some accident, it never builds a second time.

The nest is composed of slender twigs, lined with fine fibrous
roots. It is a loose and shallow structure, and little art or
labour appear to be expended in framing it. It varies little,
though I have occasionally met with remarkable specimens.
Twice I have seen a considerable portion of moss mixed with
the sticks on the exterior, when the nest was deeper than is
usual, and the whole was more compact than in ordinary in-
dividuals. This, however, isan extremely rare and remarkable
circumstance, and I am unable to adduce any reason for the
deviation, as both the nests were brought to me, and there
were no means of ascertaining in what kind of bush or tree they
had been situated.

The most favourite localities for building in, are the stumps
of beech trees which have been cut down, or almost any kind
of low thick bush, the middle of the latter being invariably se-
lected. I have likewise seen it in the cleft of alow tree. It
prefers those woods and groves which abound with bushes and
braky herbage beneath the trees, to young plantations and
copses, where it never tarries long. To extensive forests it is
extremely partial, though a pair will frequently take possession
of a sequestered grove, bordering on a lake or running stream,

THE HEDGE COALHOOD. 401

where it breeds and passes the summer. It seldom builds in
gardens, but very commonly in thick shady shrubberies, even
in the immediate neighbourhood of houses, where it sedulously
conceals itself throughout the season, rarely falling under the
notice of the ordinary or casual observer. The female sits very
close, though she quits her charge on the slightest alarm, and
is rarely to be seen on the eggs. The male takes his turn for
an hour or two every day at noon, and heis less easily disturbed
than his mate. But I have observed, that when he is disturbed,
and caused to fiy away, the nest is almost invariably deserted
by both parents.

The eggs are four or five in number, of a pale blue, spotted
at the larger end with black. They are never more than five,
are nearly elliptical, and vary little, either in shape or colour.

In confinement the Hedge Coalhood breeds readily, notwith-
standing the strange assertion to the contrary in STEPHENS’S
General Zoology, a compilation of little merit as regards the
ornithological department. It will likewise pair with the Ca-
nary, and I have seen mules, thus obtained, in the possession
of Mr. Pzacu, of Tutbury, in Staffordshire. They mostly re-
sembled the male, which was the Hedge Coalhood, but were
weak, and lived but a short time. This, however, was probably
owing to their having been improperly treated, as some birds,
similarly crossed, that I once saw at a bird-seller’s, were in
perfect health, and three years old. This species is easily pre-
served in a cage, if properly managed, and allowed to wash
sufficiently often. For want of the latter precaution, their feet
shortly become dried up, and frequently drop off. ‘Two piping
Coalhoods that were once brought to me, about four years ago,
had their feet in the state above described, and, from the loss
of most of their claws, the unfortunate birds had great difficulty
in standing on the perch. I purchased one of these individuals,
and kept it about eighteen months, at the end of which time its
claws became much moister and cleaner, though they would
never have recovered entirely. Its constitution apparently re-
mained good to the end, but one morning it fell into an apo-

pd

402 THE HEDGE COALHOOD.

plectic fit, and was dead in less than ten minutes. The first
indications of illness were a violent panting and opening of the
mouth. It was soon unable to stand on the perch, and after a
few violent struggles it breathed its last.

It is also easily injured by being handled, and I have often
known instant death to ensue after catching it, though it was
in the hand but a few moments. According to my experience,
it is much more liable to fits than the Common Goldwing, and
in many individuals these come on periodically, and though
they often pass away, yet, perhaps as frequently, they prove
fatal. Such birds as are liable to fits should be kept in a warm
place, and fed sparingly with hemp, and other stimulating
seeds ; they must be plentifully provided with chickweed and
groundsel, to which they are extremely partial. In spring,
likewise, they may be supplied with the buds of the hawthorn,
plum, cherry, gooseberry, &c.—if, indeed, the gardener is will-
ing to spare any of the latter.

It is disputed by Ornithologists, whether or not the Hedge
Coalhood is pernicious to the interests of the gardener, by de-
stroying 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 subsequent 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
vegetable portion is rejected, and the inclosed insect or grub is
the desired object of their search. That such is the case, I
have ascertained 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 repeatedly 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

THE HEDGE COALHOOD. 403

remarked by some, that the finest trees are usually selected as
the scene of its depredations. But this, if anything, is in fa-
vour of my argument, as the insects may reasonably be sup-
posed to make their choice as well as the birds, and that the
birds only attack such trees as are infested by these insect
pests.

Even supposing that these birds were as baneful to our fruit
trees as has been represented, I could not bear to make war
upon them, but, on the contrary, would propose that every
nobleman and gentleman should set apart some trees purposely
for the. birds, while the rest could easily be protected by the
usual methods. That such a proposal would be scouted by all
parties, I am well aware, though it is probable that by far the
greater quantity of fruit that is produced in the gardens of the
nobility and gentry, is either wasted, or sold for the benefit of
the sordid gardener. By this plan these beautiful and orna-
mental birds might be rendered perfectly tame and familiar, in-
stead of, as at present, shy, secluded, and rarely seen. In
these matters, however, it is always best to leave people to
their own ways, especially as they are usually little willing to
alter old customs and opinions. But, after what has been
said, it must not be supposed that its chief food consists of
buds. Indeed it is obvious that this can form but a small
portion of its subsistence ; during the summer and autumn it
feeds on various kinds of seeds, and likewise on the leaves of
the chickweed, groundsel, &c.

This species is very subject to variety, individuals more or
less white being frequently met with. But I never heard of a
specimen entirely white until presented with one about two
years ago, by a friend; it was shot in a hedge, where it was
hopping about alone. In confinement it often turns black, a
circumstance commonly attributed to feeding too profusely on
hemp seed. A caged individual of this kind that was once
offered to me by a bird-seller at Derby, met with a singularly
unhappy fate. It was quartered in an adjoining house, whence
it was brought for my inspection, tied up in a handkerchief.

pd 2

404 THE SPOTTED STARLING.

The man opened his parcel with great pomp, when lo! the bird
was dead, which, but a minute before, had been valued at half-a-
guinea. In addition to his other remarkable qualities, the
reverend sire was extremely loyal, and his favourite songs were
“God save the King” and ‘ Rule Britannia.” His health,
however, must have been weak, and he had probably been
improperly treated.

I have somewhere either read or heard that this bird does not
occur in Ireland, but I cannot speak from my own experience
in this particular.

Fam. II.—STURNIDA&, Vie.
Genus STURNUS, Antia. STARLING.

SpoTTteD StTaruine, Sturnus varius, Mey.

««Tcan’t get out !”—Poor bird! has man’s hard heart

Not field enough to wreak its cruelty

On fellow man ?—but he in wantonness

Of power, must seize on thee. ‘I can’t get out!”

Poor captive! No, thy prison-bars are hacked

With instinct (Nature’s) efforts to escape ;

While sweep the Swallows pass in airy rounds,

Brushing with sportive wing thy prison-grate:

The while thy little heart beats strong, and pants

For Nature’s gracious boon—SwEET LIBERTY.
Anonymous.

ns

SynonyMs.—Sturnus vulgaris, Linn. Syst.—LATH. Ind. Orn.—SELBY’s Br. Orn.
—Sturnus varius, Mey. Tasch. Deut.—Analyst, No. 14.—N. Woon’s Orn. Tezt-
book.—Common Starling, SELBy’s By. Orn.—Spotted Starling, Analyst, Vol. III.
—N. Woon’s Orn. Tezt-book.

Tue Spotted Starling is equally and very plentifully distri-
buted over the British Islands, and is well known to every-one.
It is most abundant in fenny flat districts, and in places where
reeds are plentiful. In these it frequently nestles at night,
and—though I have not myself ascertained the fact—it is said
to ‘‘ perform various manceuvres in the air, the whole fre-
quently describing rapid revolutions round a common centre.”

THE SPOTTED STARLING. 405

But though I have not seen the Spotted Starling whirling in
this manner over its nestling place, yet I believe that these
evolutions, which Burron compares to a vortex, are always
observed more or less in the flight of this bird.

In autumn and winter the Starlings congregate in immense
flocks, but are most numerous in those extensive fens which
are so favourable tu its food. In the dry upland districts, the
flocks are considerably smaller, and only a few remain in small
detachments near houses, farms, &c, Here they are far from
being welcome visitors, as they frequently employ themselves,
along with their pert and noisy associates the House Sparrows,
in making holes in thatched roofs. Thus they become the
object of eager pursuit with the inmates of such houses, and,
though they are certainly very difficult birds to shoot, yet
many dozen frequently fall by the hand—or rather the barrel—
of the skilful sportsman, during the inclement seasons.

Though the regular song of the male is not heard throughout
the year, yet the Starlings do give concerts even in midwinter,
and indeed this would seem to be the season for their vocal
concerts, as at other times of the year each male sings in private,
or only in a small and select company of its particular friends.
These concerts are generally performed at the top of a lofty
tree, where each voice contributes towards the general har-
mony. One or two are placed as sentinels on the topmost
sprig of the tree, in order to give notice of the approach of any
intruder. No sooner has the sentinel sounded his alarm note,
than all the performers betake themselves to flight, chattering
and revolving round each other, as if angry at the unwelcome
intrusion. But they generally alight within sight, and, having
fixed on another tree by common consent, the whole flock is
soon settled, and in full song. I call it a song, because, though
if each told its tale separately, it would be a mere chatter, yet,
taken altogether, the sounds are far from disagreeable.

If not disturbed, the Starlings will remain on the same tree
for hours together, but they seldom admit of a near approach—
at least by those unaccustomed to the ways of birds. The pry-

406 THE SPOTTED STARLING.

ing Naturalist, however, well knows how he is to pay his
respects to them, though he too may be disappointed for a
considerable time. Sometimes on a cold December morning, |
have been employed for hours in hunting them up over hedge
and field, at the time when those of the red coat were pursuing
animals of a larger growth. And avery healthy exercise it is;
for as our little musicians take alarm on very slight causes, it
becomes no easy matter to make so near an approach to them
as an Ornithologist would wish. The best way is to conceal
yourself behind a hedge or tree. In such a situation you may
watch their proceedings at leisure ; but, should curiosity tempt
you to peep out a little further than is dictated by propriety,
the singular whinings cease for an instant, and then the whole
flock suddenly takes wing, leaving you, wingless biped, in the
lurch, astonished at the rapidity of their departure. Some-
times, however, when thus disturbed, they fly off singly, or
only in small detachments, those which remain continuing to
sing to the last, and I have known two or three individuals
practising most sedulously by themselves, when the rest of
their party had settled on another tree; and, strange to say,
these solitary individuals are much less easily disturbed than
the whole flock. Thus, when the majority of the birds are
gone, you may safely come out of your hiding place, and may
even approach close under the tree, without disturbing the
birds that remain. These individuals may frequently be seen
hopping briskly about the branches, as if to keep themselves
warm, whilst they utter the whining notes peculiar to the spe-
cies at that season.

Early in spring the Starlings break up their congregations,
pair, and proceed to the important business of incubation. At
this time three or four males may be seen at the top of a tree,
or on achimney top, pouring forth their sweet but somewhat
desultory strains. They are now in full beauty, and fine spe-
cimens may be procured for the museum. ‘The Starling is
indeed a very handsome bird, both as regards elegance of shape
and brightness of tint.

THE SPOTTED STARLING. 407

It builds in chimneys, on the tops of pipes, in holes of trees,
in ivy-clad churches, and other ruinous or little-frequented
places. Here it constructs a somewhat loose but warm nest,
consisting of hay and feathers. The eggs, four or five in num-
ber, are of a light and clear blueish green colour, ‘“‘ without
spot or blemish.” I have frequently known the nest and eggs
completely drenched in a wet season, when situated at the top
of a pipe; and though the old birds are of course compelled to
abandon their nest in such cases, yet they often build it in
another pipe, again to be washed away, or, at the best, placed
at the mercy of the weather. The young are hatched in about
sixteen days, and the same period renders them fit for entering
on the joys and miseries incident to this nether world. Before
the autumnal moult, the young birds are of a light brown or
chccolate colour, without any spots, and in this state it has
been described by Montacu, Syme, and other authors, asa
distinct species, under the name “ Solitary Thrush, Turdus
solitarius.”” This is the more surprising, as, though the colour
differs greatly from that of the adult birds, yet the unerring
characters of the genus Sturnus would prevent its being con-
founded with the Thrushes, whatever the tints of the plumage
might be. It is probable that the Starling has two or even
three broods in the course of the season, but of this I am not
certain.

In confinement, this species is very interesting, and, from
the flexibility of its voice, may be taught to pronounce words
and whistle tunes with great precision. But though it may be
amusing to hear it sing artificial strains, and pronounce words,
yet, for my own part, I far prefer following it in its native
haunts, and to hear it whistle its own simple and unsophisti-
cated notes in its natural state, where it knows no bounds but
its own inclination, and the restrictions placed on the species
by Nature. The habits of animals can seldom be successfully
elucidated by keeping them in confinement, as their manners
are then so completely altered, by artificial food, treatment,
&c., that they cannot properly be said to be the habits peculiar

408 THE SPOTTED STARLING.

to the species. Descriptions taken from animals in a domesti-
cated state are, therefore, in great part erroneous, however well
reconciled those animals may appear to be to their imprison-
ment.

It may here be observed, that the singular evolutions per-
formed by the Starlings in the air, are only noticed in the au-
tumn and winter, when they assemble in flocks. At other
times the mode of flight is straight forward and rapid, but not
smooth. When a pair of these beautiful birds passes over your
head, you might almost foretel, by their shuffling uneven
flight, that they had some sinister design in view; and your
conjecture would not be false, for these excursions are made
with the intention of robbing the farmer of a portion of his
property, either hay, straws from thatched roofs, or corn.

Its food consists of insects, worms, grubs, and seeds of va-
rious kinds, and, according to Low, it feeds in winter on the
Oniscus marinus, or sea louse.

In a lecture delivered, some time since, before the members
of the Worcestershire Natural History Society, by E. A. Tur-
LEY, Esq., it is mentioned that the organ of Caution is strikingly
developed in the head of this bird; and its manifestations cer-
tainly coincide with its organization.

A SYNOPTICAL TABLE

OF THE

BRITISH SONG BIRDS.

ABBREVIATIONS.

I. Indigenous. P. V. Periodical Visitant.

O. VY. Occasional Visitant.

. . 1 W
ale ls 3 Z ENGLISH NAMES. LATIN NAMEs. a a
mepelid] 5h] & as
) & <a WM do) i
2} 2{ 3] 1 | 28 |Missel Thrush........ Turdus viscivorus ------ I.
Fieldfare Thrush. .-.-- pilaris----..-... Pe ve
Garden Thrush ...-..-.) hortensis ---.-- Is
Redwing Thrush..----. | Iliacus----+--+--. PV.
29 |Garden Ouzel -------- ‘Merula vulgaris ----..-- I.
Ring Ouzel ---------- torquata----...- Pav.
4 ]|.1 | 32 |Fallow Chat........-. |Saxicola cenanthe -..... PAY:
WihinGhatess-6 ct. e TUDCEEA ice se cs P. V.
Stone Ghat. ociscicictecrc0.0 rubicolas-:.2.-% Ne
33 |Robin Redbreast:------ Erythaca rubecula--.... le
34 |Tree Redstart -------- Pheenicura albifrons ----}| P. V.
Tithys Redstart ------ Tithys---- -| O.V.
35 |Bluethroated Fantail--|Pandicilla Suecica -..--- OOVie
2 | 36 |Sibilous Brakehopper .|Locustella sibilatrix ----| P. V.
37 |Sedge Reedling....---. Salicaria phragmitis ----}| P.V.
Marsh Reedling ---.-- arundinacea----} P. V.
38 |Brake Nightingale. ---|Philomela luscinia --..-. Pee
39 |Blackcapt Fauvet ----|Ficedulaatricapilla---.-. P. V.
Garden Fauvet--:---.-- hortensis ------ PeVic
Whitethroat Fauvet -- cinerea -.-.-.-. PW
Garrulous Fauvet ---- garrula -.---- +} Bais
3 | 40 |Redeyed Whinling. --.|Melizophilus provincialis If
41 |Hedge Warbler----..-. Sylvia hippolais ---- --- Pe.
Wood Warbler-----.-- sibilatrix -------- P.V
Yellow Warbler ------ melodia---------- PAV
42 |Goldcrested Kinglet --|Regulus auricapillus - --- I.
Firecrested Kinglet- --. ignicapillus ----} I, ?
4 | 43 |Garden Tit-... ....... Parus hortensis:--------- I
Bea tres cmaccsiee stelere coeruleus ---..-.- I.
IVEPATSTU INI E aie'sic orctevatey store palustris S atwinohieniate ce I.
COalE MT Gisele sicistereite ots ‘ACOTws 210 ciejeis etsinte : ie
Longtailed Tit---.-.-- caudatus-+++s+.--- I:
Crested Tit ..-....... ——-cristatus:-+--.--.. It

| ORDER.
| TRIBE.
| FAMILY.
| SUBFAM.

52

53

A SYNOPTICAL

ENGLISH NAMES.

Bearded Pinnock: -----
Hedge Dunnock
Alpine Annet.-.--------
Pied Wagtail---.-..---
Grey Wagtail --------
Spring Oatear
Blueheaded Catear----
Rock Pipit---<..+.++s-
Meadow Pipit --------

Tree Pipit Sa Weleleate cose Eres

re

Tawny Lavrock
Sky Lark
WiOOd danke cee s.
Shore ark:ccle seleciset
Snowy Longspur:------
Rusty Longspur
Corn Bunting
Yellow Bunting
Reed Bunting
Cirl Bunting.----------
Ortolan Bunting
House Sparrow
Tree Sparrow
Chaff Finch
Bramble Finch----.---
Siskin Goldwing
Common Goldwing: ---
Whin Linnet.----------
Mountain Linnet------
Redpoll Linnet--------
Mealy Linnet --------
Haw Grosbeak--------
Green Grosbeak ------
Pippin Crossbill
Pine Crossbill --.-+--<

eee cesee

eon ee

eeeeee

see ee ee cre

eecere

eercee

Whitewinged Crossbill
Fine Thickbill----- --

Hedge Coalhcod
Spotted Starling

cer eee

ecerene

TABLE.

LATIN NAMES.

Calamophilus biarmicus.
Accentor modularis --
Curruca collaris
Motacilla maculosa: -----
cinerea
Budytes verna --------+-
cyanocephala --
Anthus obscurus
pratensis: -------
arboreus:----+-<-
\Corydalla fusca
|Alauda arvensis
arborea
Alpestris
'Plectrophanes nivalis: -- -

eesecees

eee ecece

eeceesee

eer erecere

|Emberiza miliaria
citrinella ----
scheeniculus ~-

cirlus

hortulana ----

Passer domesticus
arbDOreuS:<«*+eceeer
Fringilla ccelebs
montana: ---+er:.
Carduelis spinus
elegans

Linaria cannabina

veoesee

eee eeece

eorece

montana: -+-+«--
pusilla. .+--++-+-

canescens

Coccothraustes crategus.
— chloris- ---

Crucirostra vulgaris -

pinetorum. -
leucoptera: -
Densirostra enucleator - -

Pyrrhula vulgaris

Lapponica

Sturnus varius.------+--

INDEX.

Page.
Alpine Annet------+---+++++- coes 206
Bearded Pinnock ----+-+-++-++++:- 192
Blackcapt Fauvet---------++++-:- 99
Blue Tit ---+-----es cece seececees 167
Blueheaded Oatear -----+----+++- 225
Bluethroated Fantail ------------ 71
Bramble Finch --.----+++-++-++-- 356
Brake Nightingale -------------- 389
@haff Finch -.----------+s-se2s 346
Cirl Bunting -+---+-+---++-+++e++ 324
OA i aeieiccie nn ene sics aie ane seis 182
Common Goldwing---+------+-::- 364
Corn Bunting ----+---+++-+--++- 284
Crested Tit------+-++-+2seeeeeees 190
Fallow Chat ------+++-++ wicfelcieinie 39
Fieldfare Thrush -----+-+---+++++ 12
Firecrested Kinglet ----+-----++-- 143
Garden Ouzel....--.-++eseeeeeees 30
ATG IGAUVCE << «60 -cc osc cece ess 105
Garden Thrush. .---+---+++-ee+ee:s 17
Garden Tit---.-.-.--- 56.0 ee asve.0 «- 156
Garrulous Fauvet ----------+--: 114
Goldcrested Kinglet ---.-------: 135
Grey Wagtail----------+-+++++++: 214
Green Grosbeak -------+--+-++-+- 386
Haw Grosbeak ----:- plalofelel sietinie\e) ete * 384
Hedge Warbler ----- nit SASSER ESP Se 125
Hedge Coalhood -------- laleieietets 396
Hedge Dunnock ---------+--++-- 197
House Sparrow---+--+--+--+++++- 328
Ivy Wren. ------ +--+ eee e eee reer 146
Longtailed Tit ---------++++--> soucam Ky;
Marsh Reedling ----+-++--++-+++-+ 86
PATS PGi oleic ors cle «one's o.eielelve cieisce 176
Meadow Pipit -.-----++++-+---+-+- 229
Mealy Linnet-.----+-+-++-++++-+- 382
WVETSSCLCETUSID ci cccciccccevcedcens 1

Page.
Mountain Linnet-----+----+-+--- 377
Ortolan Bunting AAPA AA Arn Ce 327
Pied Wagtail-------+--++-+----++- 208
Pine Crossbill -----2-2..s0+scece 394
Pine Thickbill +-----++---++++--+- 395
Pippin Crossbill ----------+-+++-- 391
Redpoll Linnet------ PEPRARARE CAS a7)!
Reed Bunting ----+-+-+++++++-+- 304
Redeyed Whinling --------+----> 118
Redwing Thrush------+---++++++ 26
Ring QUIZ] << oo csiciv cis cs cece scene 36
Robin Redbreast ----+-++++++++°> 49
Rock Pipit --+++++++-+++++9+> ens 996
Rusty Longspur --------+-+++++- 282
Sedge Reedling ------- Po eriee coieiers 78
Sibilous Brakehopper------------ 73
Siskin Goldwing ------+-++-+++-- 358
Shore Lark---+e+eesseecteseereees 271
Sky Lark. .-++e+sseeeree sere rece 245
Snowy Longspur Slasins oemiela.clercimore 975
Spring Oatear -----++s+++s+s7+° 219
Stone Chat-.--cesccsececcsecccns 45
Spotted Starling ---++--+--+-*++": 404
Tawny Lavrock ---+-+++++++--*": 242
Tithy’s Redstart -------- aalaiorersiee 68
Tree Pipit --+-+---++-+++++° oes 0 aD
Tree Redstart ----esesssees aiic00 OO!
Tree Sparrow «-+---:- eos sisice me oup Oe:
Whitewinged Crossbill --++--++*> 394
Whitethroated Fauvet -------: -- 110
Whin Chat. .----cecccccscsccsees 42
Whin Linnet---.--+-ecee> ances nese
Willow Warbler ---++---=+-> sine stove 132
Wood Warbler -e+seeeeseeeeeeee> 129
Wood Lark. -c-cccccccccccccccces 259
Yellow Bunting --+-+-+++++++++* 292

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