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WOODLAND, FIELD
AND SHORE

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Boston Public Library

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Kingfisher.

WOODLAND, FIELD
AND SHORE

WILD NATURE DEPICTED
WITH PEN AND CAMERA

OLIVER G. PIKE

AUTHOR OF -' IN BIRD-LAND WITH
FIELD-GLASS AND CAMERA,' ETC.

WHINCHATS NEST

WITH TWO COLOURED PLATES AND lOl PHOTO-
GRAPHS OF BIRDS, ANIMALS, AND INSECTS,
TAKEN DIRECT FROM NATURE BY THE AUTHOR

LONDON

The Religious Tract Society i

I ] si i?>^TEltNC/STER; R<3\y , and -^\ '^J \9^0^

'-65, ST.° PAIjVs birjKCflYARb' ' 1901 0^

],, , ,1,^ ^. /^oZ

t c c t c c

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Preface

IN Woodlaiid, Field, and Shore I ha\'e en-
deavoured to describe and picture the every-day
life of our British wild birds and their homes in the
country side. Birds have not had exclusive atten-
tion, however ; something about animals, insects, and
flowers is also given where these are found to be of
interest. For the most part my bird-land pictures
have been obtained in the counties near to London ;
others were secured farther afield, especially many
of those relating to shore birds. Generally my de-
scriptions of country scenes and incidents have been
written in the open air while I have been waiting
with my camera for subjects, or, at other times,
when actualh^ rambling in the woodlands, the fields,
or on the shore.

People who have not practised birdsnesting with
a camera can have no adequate idea of the time and
patience needed to secure a set of pictures such as
those which illustrate this volume. The photographs
of birds alone represent nearly one hundred hours of

6 PREFACE

waiting in hiding, not to mention many other days
spent in vainly trying to photograph the owners of
other nests which illustrate the following pages.

Birds have been friends of mine since my earliest
days, and I am never happier than when roaming
about among their wild homes with field-glass and
camera. My notes and observations on their habits
have been taken at first hand from Nature, and at
all hours of the day and night.

In the collection of my photographs illustrating
this book, I have to thank the following gentlemen
for help and encouragement very kindly given : The
Right Hon. Sir Charles W. Dilke, Bart, M.P. ;
John Ford, Esq., J. P., of Enfield Old Park ; Richard
Westrop, Esq., formerly of South Lodge, Enfield
Chase ; Stanley Boys, Esq., formerly of Upper War-
lingham ; Captain Otto Gurlitt, and F. W. Drake, Esq.,
of Winchmore Hill. In addition, I have been in-
debted to various members of the North London
Natural History Society, and a number of other
friends, who are also bird-lovers, in the southern
counties of England.

I shall always be glad to hear of nests of rare
birds ; or of opportunities for photographing birds
at any time and in any part of the British Isles,

O. G. P.

Winchmore Hill, Middlesex.
March, 1901.

A HALWT OF THE KELsHANK [IJjW TIDK;.

Introduction
By the Rev. J. Monro Gibson, D.D.

WHAT the painter does for the individual
scene when he puts soul-tints into it and
makes it smile and speak and open its heart to us,
Mr. Pike does for universal Nature. With light
and pleasant touches he shows its beauty in all its
varying aspects, throughout the changing seasons ;
for though he does not dwell on the winter, he
assigns a chapter to the passing of it, and does not
let it pass without disclosing its peculiar charm.
He loves all that God has made, and has found it
well worth while to spend hours at a time in

8 INTRODUCTION

patiently watching, and accurately recording, the
doings of some of the humblest denizens of wood-
land, field, and shore. The birds are his peculiar
delight, and before we have read many pages we
are in love both with them and with him. We can
fully sympathise with his eagerness to get a shot
at them — with his camera.

' The works of the Lord are great, sought out
of all them that take pleasure therein.' The pity
is that in this busy age these ' all ' are so few.
Our hope is that a book like this will greatly
increase their numbers. Our great classic on the
subject. The Natural History of Selborne^ has of
necessity followed other classics to the library of
the reader and the scholar ; but a simple little
volume like this should reach a very much larger
constituency ; and if my hopes are realised, it will
stir the love of Nature in many a heart, be a
choice companion in many a ramble, open many
an eye to Nature's loveliness, and weaken many an
ear to hear her melodies and harmonies, and above
all kindle that spirit of adoration which is the
soul's loftiest exercise, and supply that touch of
tender interest which is the fount of intercession ;
for true it is that

' He prayeth best who loveth best,

All things both great and small ;
For the dear God who loveth us,

He made and loveth all.'

Contents

PAGE

I. EIRDSNESTING WITH A CAMERA . . -13

II. SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE .... 27

III. THE PASSING OF WINTER .... 56

IV. EARLY SPRING IN A MIDDLESEX WOOD . . 67
V. ROUND AND ABOUT A SUBURBAN ORCHARD

PART I., SPRING 78

VI. ROUND AND ABOUT A SUBURBAN ORCHARD —

PART II., SUMMER 97

VII. A WOODLAND SCENE IN JUNE . . . IIO

VIII. HARVEST-TIME IN- HERTFORDSHIRE . . 121

IX. LATE SEPTEMBER IN DORSETSHIRE . . r.31

X. AUTUMN IN BIRD-LAND 1 42

XI. BIRDS IN THE SNOW . . . ... 1 49

XII. A MIDDLESEX COPSE . . . . . 165

XIII. ROUND AND ABOUT A SURREY COMMON . 1 82

CONTENTS

XIV.

A MIDDLESEX BROOK

XV.

A SUMMER NIGHT IN THE WOODS .

XVI.

BUTTERCUP MEADOW

XVII.

A SUBURBAN PARK . .

XVIII.

NATURE ON THE KENT COAST . . .

XIX.

A PLEA FOR THE BIRDS . . . .

INDEX

PAGE

227
240

268

280

List of Illustrations

KINGFISHER (Coloured Plate) .
NEST OF LiiSSER REDPOLL (Coloured

PAGE

WHINCHAT's ^kS'V [Title-page)

A HAUNT OF THE REDSHANK 7

BLACK-HEADED GULL . . 13

BLACK-HEADED GULLS

LEAVING THE WATER
SONG-THRUSH, PHOTO-
GRAPHED BY MEANS OF
ELECTRICITY
A BLUE-TIT WHICH PIIOTc;

GRAPHED ITSELF
WHINCHAT's NEST
PHOTOGRAPHING GOLDFINCH'S
NEST WITH AN IMPROVISED
TRIPOD ....

NORFOLK PLOVER'S NEST
EGGS AND YOUNG OF RINGED
PLOVER ....

redshank's NEST.
EGGS OF THE KENTISH
PLOVER ....

EGGS OF KENTISH PLOVER .
LAPWING'S NEST AND EGGS .
NEST AND EGGS OF COMMON

TERN 47

LITTLE TERN SITTING . . 49

EGGS OF LESSER TERN . . 51

BLACK-HEADED GULL'S NEST 53
WHEATEAR'S NEST . . 54

blackbird's nest . . 69
the scared rabbit . . 71
robin's nest ... 72

Plate

Frontispiece
To face page 107

PAGE

site of greater spotted
woodpecker's nest. . 76

garden-warbler's nest . 79

orange-tip butterfly . 83

green-veined white but-
terfly asleep on grass
stem ....

garden-warbler sitting

whitethroat's nest .

mole ....

mole burrowing

thrush's nest in rhub.\ri
clump

cuckoo's egg in green
finch's nest

cuckoo's egg in pied wag
tail's nest

pied wagtail

sky-lark at home

YOUNG willow-wren .

site of tree-creeper':

NEST ....
COAL tit's NEST .
YOUNG BLUE-TITS IN NEST
RED-ADMIRAL BUTTERFLY
RED-ADMIRAL AT REST
HUMBLE BEE ON THISTLE

FLOWER
SPIDER ....
TORTOISESHELL BUTTERFLY
starling's NEST .

lOI

104

106

112

114
116
117
119
119

120
130

132

135

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

A FAVOURITE HAUNT OF
SWIFTS — DORSETSHIRE

SAND-MARTINS' NESTING-
HOLES.

SPARROWS

ROBIN, MONARCH OF ALL
HE SURVEYS

DEFIAtsCE, — COCK ROBIN
ABOUT TO FIGHT

GREAT TIT .

BLACKBIRD (HEN) .

BLACKBIRD (MALE)

SONG-THRUSH FEEDING

MOOR-HENS FEEDING IN .-
SNOW-COVERED MEADOW

SPARROWS

MOOR-HEN IN THE SNOW

WOOD-PIGEON'S NEST .

NIGHTJAR AND YOUNG .

YOUNG NIGHTJARS

SITE OF goldfinch's NEST

goldfinch's nest
wood- wren .

linnet's NEST
CIRL BUNTING'S NEST .
TURTLE dove's NEST .
JAY'S NEST .
STONECHAT'S NEST
WATER-VOLE .
water-vole's NEST IN

REEDS
KINGFISHER AT HOME

PREPARING FOR A NAP
SITE OF KINGFISHER'S NEST
KINGFISHER, SHOWING THE

BEAUTIFUL PLUMAGE ON

HEAD AND BACK
MOOR-HEN'S ROOSTING-NEST
SEARCHING FOR LITTLE

grebe's NEST .
HAUNT OF THE LITTLE

grebe ....

PAGE

REED-BUNTING (HEN)
138 REED ....

YOUNG WHITETHROATS
140 NEST ..... 231

150 tree-pipit's nest . . 232

nest of bullfinch . . 234

152 greenfinch's nest . . 235

young song-thrush . . 237

154 stag beetle . . . 239

156 home of the kestrel . 242

159 flower-pot under which

160 a pair of great tits

161 built their nest . . 249
the nest disclosed . . 249

162 site of tree-sparrovv's

163 NEST 251

164 YOUNG TREE-SPARROW AT
167 ENTRANCE TO NESTING-

169 HOLE 252

170 FLYING ACROSS THE WIND

174 —BLACK-HEADED GULLS . 256

177 A FLIGHT ROUND— BLACK-

187 HEADED GULLS . . . 257

189 A NECK-AND-NECK RACE —

190 BLACK-HEADED GULLS . 258

191 GOING DOWN WIND — BLACK-

193 HEADED GULLS . . . 259

195 BLACK-HEADED GULLS AT

198 HOME 261

BLACK-HEADED GULL
200 HOVERING .... 263

BLACK-HEADED GULLS
203 LEAVING THE WATER . 263

206 BLACK-HEADED GULLS

WAITING FOR BREAKFAST. 264

BLACK-HEADED GULLS . . 265

209 FLYING AGAINST THE WIND

213 --BLACK-HEADED GULLS . 266

HEDGE-SPARROW FEEDING

215 YOUNG .... 269
chaffinch's NEST . . 275

216 LITTLE TERN SITTING . . 279

Woodland, Field, and Shore

Birdsnesting with a Camera

IRDSXESTIXG with a
camera has now become
so popular with amateur
photographers and bird
lovers that some remarks
on how best to ' shoot '
our game may be useful
to novices.

It matters not what size
the camera used may be.
A good, sharply focussed small negative makes as
good a picture when enlarged as larger ones taken
direct. Some of the most effective bird-pictures I
have seen were taken with a quarter-plate camera.
Perhaps the best all-round size is a half-plate. The
camera should be one that can be focussed at the
back, while the front is fixed ; for nothing is more
annoying than to find that after say an hour being

BLACK-HEADED GULL.

14 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

occupied in fixing the apparatus before a nest, the
whole has to be moved farther away. This will
often happen if a camera is used that has to be
focussed by racking out the front.

The lens should be one of large aperture, and
possessing great depth of focus. The one I like
best out of many I have tried is the double
anastigmat, new series, made by C. P. Goerz.
This combines the most extreme rapidity with
splendid covering powers at the largest aperture —
F. 5*5, and is a really satisfactory all-round lens
for naturalist photographers. With a Goerz double
anastigmat working at F. 6*8, I have obtained some
perfect photographs of flying birds with an exposure
of gJo of a second on a dull February day.

It is very necessary that a silent shutter should
be used. One working behind the lens should be
chosen ; but the best plan is to have it inside the
camera, if possible, as then there is no likelihood
of a timid bird being scared by any movement.
The most efficient shutter for time and slow
exposures is the Thornton-Pickard time and instan-
taneous pattern : if one of these is fitted inside the
camera, with a thick padding of velvet between
the shutter and camera front, there will hardly
be any perceptible noise when the shutter is re-
leased. Mine has been in almost daily use for
four years, and works as well now as when I first

BIRDSXESTIXG WITH A CAMERA 15

had it. The majority of bird photographers make
it a rule to give very fast exposures, but this is a
great mistake. Do not set your focal-plane shutter
at 3-J0 of a second when photographing an innocent
little Blue Tit or Robin. The former is a very
restless bird, yet if a perfectly silent shutter is
used an exposure of jV of ^ second will give more
perfect results. I have photographed one w^alking

llack-hi;al)i:l) wills !,i;a\'ix(; the watkk.

(exposure uliTj SECOND.)

along a* branch with an exposure of about yV of a
second. With a very rapid exposure a hard
negative is produced, unless the plate is very care-
fully developed ; and really there is no need to set
a silent shutter at a high speed. Where the
shutter makes enough noise to startle a bird, an
exposure of not less than ^^ of a second must be
given. Of course the foregoing remarks do not
refer to flying birds, in the case of which an
exposure of ^-q of a second is the slowest that

i6 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

should be used. Small birds require a much more
rapid exposure than large ones, for the smaller the
bird the quicker the wings are moved. A focal-
plane shutter must be used for such subjects ; there
are many in the market now, and I have used
several, but none in my opinion are as good as
the ' Anschutz.' For ease of altering the slit,
reliability in exposure, and silent working this is
the best. It is annoying to have a shutter ' go
wrong ' at the critical moment, and unless a good
make is used this is likely to happen.

Undoubtedly the most useful contrivance for bird
work is a 'gun-camera.' In my recently published
book, I/i Bird-Land, I give a description of the
one I use. The most important point in mine,
which I made for the most part myself, is being
able to focus the object while the sensitive plate
is in position ready for exposure. This result is
obtained by an arrangement of mirrors inside the
camera. At the instant of exposure these are put
out of action, allowing the light from the lens to
pass through, and at the same time a focal plane
shutter passes across the plate. With these mirrors
a lens of any focus can be used, and one is not
compelled to use a special lens, as is the case with
gun-cameras used by some other bird photographers.
A gun-stock is utilised as being the most convenient
thing for the camera to rest upon. ,

BIRDSNESTING WITH A CAMERA 17

There are many ways of releasing the shutter.
The pneumatic tube is the most popular ; but one
great objection to this is the time the air-wave
takes to travel along a lengthy piece of tube, so that
the bird is found to be in a different position when
the plate is developed from what it was when the ball
was pressed. If the ball and tube are perfectly
air-tight, this can be overcome by filling the tube
with air so that the shutter is almost released ; then,
if the ball is screwed on with this pressure in the
tube, the slightest pinch of the ball will set off
the shutter. The tube can be filled by pressing the
ball and then pinching the tube just above it, so
preventing the air from returning. If the ball is
now taken off and allowed to fill with air, and
screwed on again, two charges of air are in the tube
instead of one. Another plan is to have a small
hole in the ball and to place a finger over this
when it is squeezed ; then, by preventing the air
from returning in the way mentioned, the ball can
be refilled without taking it off. I have exposed
plates in this way with a great length of tubing.

Another method is to use string. This is a capital
way of exposing the plates, as any length can be
used, the only objection being that the shutter has
to be outside the camera. I have used about one
hundred and fifty yards of string successfully in a
large field. It is rather annoying, however, when

i8 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

a horse or a cow insists on feeding near, and by
touching the string sets off the shutter. I once had
a horse get confusedly mixed up with such a string-
connection, the result being that the cord was broken
and the plate exposed.

I have now overcome all objections raised against
pneumatic, string, and other connections. My friend
Mr. Seamer and myself have made an electric

SONG-THRUSH, PHOTOGRAPHED UV .MEANS OF ELECTRICITY.

release. It had been my desire for some time
to have such a thing, but it is only recently that
I have made it a success. There are great possi-
bilities in store for bird photographers who use
electricity, and no one who engages in this work
will be able to afford to do without it, if he wishes
to get the best pictures of our wildest birds. Any

BIRDSNESTING WITH A CAMERA r

length of wire can be used, and the most important
characteristic of the electric release is that the ex-
posure is made the instant the button is pressed,
so that no time is lost, as is the case with string
or pneumatic
connections.
I have now
perfected my
shutter, so that
a bird practi-
cally takes its
o w n photo-
graph b \'
means of elec-
tricity. Food
is placed on a
branch, or on
the ground, by
way of attrac-
tion, and when
a bird alights
near, the wires
are connected

by the bird's weight and the exposure is made.
Several good pictures have been secured in this
w^ay. I have also another convenient arrangement
for placing in the nests of birds, so that when the
owner returns and sits on her eggs, she will also

A BI.LE-TIT WHICH PHOTOGRAPHED ITSELF.

20 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

unconsciously connect the two wires, and so expose
the plate. For very timid birds, which are difficult
to approach, this will be a wonderful aid in obtain-
ing their pictures. I am quite sure all bird photo-
graphers who use this new device of mine will be
satisfied with the results.

By an arrangement of wires I hope to secure
photographs of some of our wild animals and
nocturnal birds. Many of these leave their holes
or other places of hiding and feed during the night.
In the case of animals the wires will be placed in
their 'runs,' or food put in certain places to attract
them., and when the animal passes this spot it will
first connect two wires which will open the shutter
by means of the electric release, and then. a charge
of special magnesium powder will be fired and the
shutter will close. All this will be unconsciously
performed by the animal. People who have not
much time at their disposal, and who want to
secure photographs of birds at their nests, or
feeding their young, will be able to get such
pictures without waiting. The camera may be put
in position in the morning, and when the photo-
grapher returns in the evening from his work he
will probably find the plate exposed and have a
good picture of the bird. If a bird were to sit on
its nest for, say an hour, there would be a great
waste of electricity, and the release on the shutter

BIRDSNESTING WITH A CAMERA 2t

would become
heated. To
prevent this
difficulty a
piece of very
thin wire is
f a s t e n e d to
the accumu-
lator, and when
the wires are
connected this
melts and so
breaks the cir-
cuit. The elec-
tric release can
be fitted to al-
most any make
of shutter by
Messrs.Seamer
Bros., of En-
field.

A follower
of this sport
has much in
common with
a scout : he
must endea-

WHINXHAT

his ' enemv ' without beino; seen,

22 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

or so to approach as not to cause alarm. If the
aim is to get a picture of a bird on its nest, it is
as well a few days beforehand to place a heap of
rubbish in the place where the camera is to be
hidden, otherwise the bird will probably be scared
by an obstruction so near its home. My own ex-
perience proves that it is better for the operator
not to be with his camera unless there is a good
natural hiding-place near. A camera covered over
will sometimes make a formidable-looking heap, and
this is quite enough to keep many birds from their
nest, and more so if the naturalist hides with his
apparatus.

A cloth about forty inches square, khaki-colour
on one side and dull green on the other, is a
good thing to carry as a focussing cloth. It can
be used to cover the camera before hiding the
whole with weeds, rubbish, etc. The khaki side
will be found the most useful to use in winter, as
it harmonises with the dried grasses and dead
plant stalks, the green being more useful in spring
and summer. Of course when the camera is hidden
near a nest on the ground in this way, the tripod
is dispensed with, a small mound of earth or a
few sticks being used instead. When wanting to
photograph a nest in a tree, the tripod should
first be taken up and fixed as near as possible in
the position desired ; the camera can then be

BIRDSNESTING WITH A CAMERA 23

fastened on. By doing this much time will be
saved, as well as ruffling of temper : a heavy

IL^-

PHOTUGKAl'HI.XG GULDl-l.NCll i :,]_; I W'l'liL

I:2KD TKll'ulJ.

camera with tripod attached is a difficult thing to
fasten to a swaying tree.

Several photographers have asked what plates I

24 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

use. For all my work I use Cadett plates. I have
no hesitation in saying that the Cadett Special Rapid
is the best plate in the market for general bird photo-
graphy. For photographing nests, birds feeding
their young, etc., I use Cadett Special Rapid ; and
for more rapid work, such as flying birds, Cadett
Lightning. A changing bag is better and less
bulky than a number of slides : one very soon
becomes accustomed to changing plates by touch.

A very necessary thing for bird photographers
to have, is a pair of good field-glasses ; without
these it is hard to see when a bird is in the right
position, when one is some distance from the
camera. I like the prismatic binoculars better than
the ordinary pattern of field glass ; one great
advantage being that a very high power and large
field are obtained in an instrument no larger than
a pair of opera glasses. With my glasses — the Goerz
Trieder-Binocular No. 30, 9 x , I have been able to
distinguish sea-birds on their nests two and a half
miles away ; at a distance of a quarter of a mile a
bird the size of a Sparrow can be recognised. No
better aid for observing such far-away objects can be
obtained or desired.

A love for sport is inbred in the English people,
and those who have photographed birds can testify
that this work is a very exciting sport at times.
Who does not remember his first gun, and the

BIRDSNESTING WITH A CAMEEA 25

feelings of delight with which he explored the
fields, intent on slaughtering the first luckless bird
which crossed his path, just ' to see how it would
kill.' And then, if w^e happened to 'drop' our
game at the first shot, how satisfied we were with
our new w^eapon, and how keenly w^ere future days
anticipated with our gun ! Feelings akin to these
are experienced by the bird photographer w^hen,
after a lengthy stalk with his gun-camera, he at
last succeeds in obtaining a picture of a bird which
has been patiently followed. The fascination of
thus hunting wdth a camera grows upon one ; and
a day with field-glass and camera is as eagerly
looked forward to as a good day's sport with guns
and dogs on ' the glorious first.' The modern
naturalist crawling stealthily through a thick reed-
bed or woodland copse, equipped with his camera,
is only following that instinctive love of sport
which characterised the ancient Briton as he stole
towards his wary game, with bow and arrow, in
the virgin forests of England.

One of the chief things which bird photographers
must learn to put up with is disappointment ; but
then, with patience and perseverance, success is
sure to come ; and when the wariness of a shy
bird has been overcome, and a good picture is
obtained, disappointments are more than counter-
balanced by success. If we even return without

26 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

one negative, the day has not been wasted ; for
the countryside always offers something to see.
Especially when lying hidden waiting to photograph
a bird, we see more of the ways of our wild
feathered friends than when wandering in lanes
and fields.

It is well for all beginners who take to birds-
nesting with a camera not to go into the fields
expecting to return with photographs that will
* stagger humanity.' In such a case they will
probably come back disappointed, and give up the
work in disgust. Be satisfied with small results at
first, and better and more valuable pictures will
follow in due course, in proportion as more is
learnt about the haunts and homes of our wild
British birds.

Some Birds of the Shore

ON some parts of the south coast of England, the
sea has been gradually, and in some instances
much more rapidly, receding for very many years.
As the water slowly, but surely, falls back, the waves
leave a wide barren tract of shingle. Villages which
at one time were only a short distance from the
rolling waves are now found several miles inland,
the case being similar to what has occurred in regard
to ancient sites on the shores of the Mediterranean.
Even lighthouses, which are quite modern buildings,
are in some cases several hundred yards distant
from the billows which of old were wont to wash
around their base.

Let readers picture in their minds a wide area
of flat land, covered as far as the eye can reach
with stones, washed and so worn round by the
action of water countless ages ago. Dotted about
this expanse are here and there little patches of

green ; and, on closer inspection, these prove to be

28 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

clumps of sea-holly. In other places, but much

more widely separated, are small groups of furze

bushes, the yellow flowers giving a brighter or more

enlivening aspect to the otherwise monotonous scene.

With the exception of these, and a few straggling

roots of sea-campion, and occasionally a small patch

of half-starved looking grass, there is nothing to be

seen but stones. It is a desert on a smaller scale

than the Sahara, relieved in places by oases, and

with the unceasing music of the wild waves going

on beyond.

This is not quite the kind of ground which one

would expect visitors or naturalists to frequent ;

but, in point of fact, the majority of our most

famous ornithologists have visited this stony

waste in order to study the habits of one of the

most rare of British breeding birds — the Kentish

Plover.

It is with no little difficulty that an ordinary

landsman can walk about this rough surface, or
ancient bottom of the sea, especially when one is
laden with a heavy camera and its necessary appli-
ances. The fishermen of this part of the coast have
overcome difficulties in regard to locomotion, how-
ever, by using what they expressively call back-
stays. These are made of pieces of board about
eight inches long and five inches wide. The corners
of one end are rounded, while a loop of leather

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE 29

is placed over the board about three inches from
that end ; the boot is slipped under this, and by-
shuffling forward a man accustomed to back-stays
can progress over the shingle with comparative
ease. The exercise is somewhat awkward to a
novice, however, and is especially so at first
Thus, when a ridge of stones has to be crossed,
he will often, just when nearly on the summit,
find himself discomfited by his back-stays sliding
down again. Practice alone makes perfect in
such walking. Then, when a number of people are
walking together with this novel kind of foot-gear,
the general effect is an indescribable noise. First
there is the rolling of the stones as one foot is
pushed forward, and then the heel of the boot
coming down with a flap on to the board as the
other foot is made to follow. Owing to this
peculiar action and the noise thus made, we sug-
gested that 'flappers' might be a more appropriate
name than back-stays for such an ingenious con-
trivance. Such, then, is this ancient ocean floor,
and such those who laboriously traverse its difficult
surface.

On this great flat, or sea of shingle, many
species of birds are found to have their nests, and
here they rear their broods. The greater part
of these, however, really build no nest at all ; they
merely lay their eggs in a slight depression in the

30 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

stones, and in such an exposed situation sit their
time. It is also a fact that the eggs of such birds
are not readily distinguished from their strange
surroundings ; and on this account are very difficult
to find. I found that it was almost impossible to
discover them by mere searching ; the more successful
plan is to lie down on the shingle, and with field-
glass at hand, to wait patiently for any movement
which might take place in the vicinity. Once or
twice a hare roused false hopes as it slowly passed
along on the stones

On a cold spring day we were lying behind a
small clump of sea-holly waiting, and in hope that
a Norfolk Plover might in time make its appearance.
VVe were sure that a nest of this species was not
far away, as our guide, Mr. Austen, had seen a
bird near to the spot. The place where we expected
to see the bird was about one hundred yards on
one side. We waited a long time, however, and
did not see it, but on our rising and standing
above the bush a Norfolk Plover was seen to leave
its nest, and then, with head bent low, to run
swiftly away. Not noticing the bird or its actions,
we watched the place which it had left, and walking
forward, were at last rewarded by finding the nest
shown in my illustration. When we were looking
at the two handsomely marked eggs the Plover
herself was seen far off running along a ridge of

""If^^l

->zs:'C-

^4 v>^:2" V J "^.'t^S^^

NORFOLK PLOVER S NEST.

32 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

stones, as it seemed, against the sky-line. The
Norfolk Plover is a large-sized bird, measuring
about sixteen inches in length, and when swiftly
on the move seems to remind one of a miniature
Ostrich. The eggs were laid in a hollow in the
shingle, near a group of furze bushes, and it seemed
as if a foundation of dead furze wood had been
collected to form a slight nest — although, as a rule,
they are laid on the bare shingle. My photograph
shows these pieces of wood, and they look as if
they had been arranged by the bird, for they all
point inwards and form a ring round the eggs.
The two eggs, slightly over two inches in length,
were of a yellow-brown ground colour, boldly
marked with deep umber blotches and pale grey
under-markings.

When darkness envelopes the land a nervous
person might be seriously disconcerted by hearing
many loud and weird calls resembling the cry of
cour-li, co2ir-lL These are no other than the notes
of the Norfolk Plover or Stone-Curlew ; and it will
readily be believed they have scared many persons
on dark nights, while they have also given rise to
sundry superstitious opinions and reports among
the country folk of that part of the coast where
they are most commonly heard. The cry is heard
chiefly at nipht, and when the moon is shininf^
brightly they are more noisy. Several times I

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE ^s

heard one cry during sunlight, although this is
not usual.

The Ringed Plover is a much smaller bird than
the Stone-Curlew, but is very much more interesting
to an ornithologist, as it more readily allows a near
approach. We found a nest containing two eggs
and two young near a piece of wreckage cast up
by the sea. We were making for a small hut on
the shore when one of us trod on something soft,
and discovered, too late to save its life, that it was
a young Ringed Plover : fortunately the eggs and
the other young one escaped. If that is possible,
the young brood really resemble their stony sur-
roundings even more than the eggs are found to do.
The fledglings are pretty, fluffy little creatures, and
being very timid make an effort to crawl away as
soon as any one approaches. While we were setting
up our camera, one of the parent birds was seen
to be running towards us, and then pretended to
be badly wounded, in hope of attracting us farther
away from the nest. As we did not appear to take
much notice, she ran a little nearer, and then laid
herself on the ground with one wing hanging ap-
parently useless, as if broken. Next she got up and
ran round us in an excited state, all the time uttering
a little plaintive cry, p2i-li. Her mate arrived from
somewhere, and joined her in these determined en-
deavours to attract us from their home.

34 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

I have photographed nests in all kinds of difficult
positions — at the tops of trees, on cliffs, and in

deep water — but
never have I ex-
perienced so much
trouble in order
to obtain a good
picture, as when
photographing the
nest of the Ringed
Plover. This was
mainly owing to
wind and rain.
The eggs were laid
not very far from
the shore, and a
strong gale was
blowing from the
sea. Great waves
were dashing in on
the shingle and
sending showers of
spray in all direc-
tions ; and, added
to all this, a heavy
storm-cloud was
also comingiup,'^ which made the light unfavourable,
and the (picture consequently needed long exposure.

EGGS AND YOUNG OF RINGED PLOVER.

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE

We were obliged to hold the camera, otherwise it
would without doubt have been blown away. The
legs of the tripod were driven into the shingle as
far as was possible, and one held on so as to try
and steady it. Two of our party stood on the
windward side and shielded the camera by holding
a cloth to catch the wind, and all three standing
shoulder to shoulder waited for a lull in the gale
which might admit of an exposure being given.
At last the lull came, and a picture was obtained,
but not before the rain commenced to pour down
in torrents. Luckily an inviting fishing hut stood
near at hand ; and in that we took shelter until
the storm had spent its force.

Near the small tow^n on the margin of the
shingle there is a large military camp. The great
plain stretching away from this settlement on three
sides offers good facilities for most effective artillery
practice. It is not an uncommon thing to come
upon large holes, showing where shells have struck
and exploded. One might reasonably suppose that
the constant firing of heavy guns, with their
thunderous reports, would have the natural effect
of frightening all birds away from the entire
neighbourhood ; but this is not the case. When
certain kinds of birds have chosen a place for
nesting, it takes a very great deal of inconvenience
and alarm to keep , them from laying their eggs

36 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

on their selected site. Two years ago a Norfolk
Plover laid her two eggs, and successfully reared
the brood, within one hundred and twenty yards of
a target at which several shells were fired daily.
To judge by the large holes in the shingle which
the exploding shells had made, there must have
been no slight commotion near this Stone-Curlew's
nest.

A few pairs of Redshanks breed on this barren
plain ; we were fortunate enough in finding one
nest in a low clump of furze. A piece of shell
weighing several pounds was lying within a few
inches of the eggs, and this is plainly seen in the
picture. In the centre of the four eggs was a
stone which had worked itself through the thin
layer of grasses forming the bottom of the nest.

The Redshank always brings to my mind a
certain February evening on the mud flats of the
Essex coast. We were waiting with our guns on
the banks of a creek for wild ducks. It was low
tide at the time, and the crisp frosty air had given
the shining mud a thin layer of ice. Flocks of
Curlew kept flying past us down the creek, plainly
discernible in the brilliant moonlight, uttering their
weird cries. Redshanks, however, were the most
attractive, with their musical whistle, which was
repeatedly uttered. At intervals the ducks came
over, sometimes out of range ; but a well imitated

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE 37

quacking- brought them towards us, and the loud
reports of the guns echoed down the creek away
to the sea, and then rolled back again in a muffled
murmur. It was like living in a new world to

_^j ^ ^.■*,

REDSHANK S NEST, WITH A PIECE OF SHELL ON THE LEFT.

find oneself in such a place so soon after leaving
the streets of London. Here, beneath the star-
strewn heavens, perfect stillness and harmony
reigned, the silent brilliance of the winter night
being disturbed only by the wild cries of night

38 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

birds or the reports of guns as the ducks came
over. There is a fascination in such sport that is
only known to those who have tried it, and which
cannot be expressed in writing.

On different parts of the shingle there are
telegraph poles with wires connecting the various
military stations, and underneath these wires dead
birds are often found. These have fallen victims
to the appliances of our modern civilisation. In
foggy weather they fly against these wires with
such fatal force as sometimes to cut off a wing
or otherwise maim themselves. We picked up a
Redshank with its head missing ; and the un-
fortunate bird was lying about thirty yards from
the wires. Such mishaps afford some idea of the
swiftness of the ordinary flight of such birds. The
wing of a Common Tern was also found, and Austen
mentioned that he had seen Terns with both legs
cut off, others with one wing missing.

As previously mentioned, this large stretch of
shingle beach is the breeding haunt of the Kentish
Plover. On the average only about fifteen pairs
successfully rear their broods during each season.
A very high price is given by collectors for a
clutch of these Plovers' eggs ; but, owing to the
great difficuty in discovering them, the birds are
happily not at present in any danger of being
exterminated. I am pleased to be able to say

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE

that last spring (1900) both the Kentish Plover
and Little Tern were on the increase, more young
being reared than in previous seasons. What
collectors need to realise is, that it is a national
loss, and not a mere sentimental grievance, for
such birds to become extinct as a British breeding
species.

:i>'2-r.'

EGGS OF THE KENTISH PLOVER. WHERE ARE THEY?

We walked about three miles over the roughest
shingle, beneath a blazing hot sun, in order to try
to find a Kentish Plover's nest. After a long
search we saw two little birds running hither and
thither at a distance of or about two hundred
yards, but on examining them through our glasses
they proved to be Ringed Plovers. These can

40 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

easily be distinguished at a distance by the broad
collar of black round the bird's neck, while in the
Kentish Plover this is narrower and is divided on
the breast by white. The hens of both species
are less brightly coloured, and more resemble the
appearance of their stony home.

For another hour we lay upon the hot stones
and searched all around with our binoculars, but
failed to see any signs of the presence of Kentish
Plovers. There was only one other place which
they haunted, and that was four miles away.
Hence there was nothing to be done but to
continue our laborious tramp over the rough
surface to that spot.

When one is hungry and thirsty a prospective
walk of four miles seems a long distance, even on
a good road; so that. the reader can imagine what
the journey appeared to wearied ornithologists who
were shuffling along with back-stays for foot-gear,
and had about sixty pounds of apparatus to carry.
Luckily there was a modest refreshment house on
the beach ; but when we expectantly entered we
were mortified to find that the host was ' out ' of
everything we so sorely needed. We were told
that the baker was expected with a stock of
provisions ; and on looking back we could just
discern a man in the far distance struggling over
the shingle. At last the provision man arrived,

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE 41

and we made one of the plainest and most enjoyable
meals that such adventurers have ever partaken.

About a mile from this rightly-named Jolly
Fisherman was the place where one or two
Kentish Plovers have been known to breed. We
naturally harboured grave doubts about finding a
nest, as there was such a broad expanse of stones
over which the search had to be made. At last,
however, our highest hopes were raised ; for about
two hundred yards off, our guide, who was gifted
with remarkable eyesight, saw a bird dart away
from its supposed nest, and run swiftly along the
ground as if startled at our friendly approach.
We all hastened in the direction indicated, each
endeavouring to keep his eye on the spot from
which the bird had started. On our arriving there
we made diligent search, and were amply rewarded
and delighted by seeing three yellowish eggs, w^ith
the unmistakable black scrawly markings, lying
in a little depression in the stones. At the same
time, so closely did these eggs correspond to the
surrounding pebbles, that if we took our eyes off
them it was no small difficulty to refind them. It
is one of the wonders of instinct, that these feathered
inhabitants of a little world of stones are not
subject to any such risk or inconvenience. As
soon as the camera was set up we found that other
difficulties threatened to baffle us. Clouds obscured

42 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

the sun, while a wind blew from the sea with such
force that we had almost as much difficulty in
taking a photograph as we had in the case of the

X •^^- ■-^•'';

^^^^'Vf^

EGGS OF KExXTISH PLOVER.

Ringed Plover. Patience and perseverance, how-
ever, always bring success in this kind of enterprise,
and after about an hour's waiting, we were successful

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE 43

in obtaining some pictures which yielded us satis-
faction as Hkely to prove of popular interest.

The eggs of the Kentish Plover cannot be con-
founded with those laid by any other British bird.
The almost black zigzag markings on a clay-
brown shell at once distinguish them. The birds
run about the shingle with the utmost grace and
agility, and it is an extremely fascinating bird-land
sight to watch them with a field-glass, as they run
about near their nest. The male bird was seen on
the sand of the sea-shore, elegantly picking up
food which was left by the receding waves. When
enough had been gathered, he would swiftly fly to
his sitting mate, to feed her with the dainty morsels.

M}' friend Mr. Dennis Godfray, who is well
acquainted with the Kentish Plover in one of its
British haunts, tells me that \\hen the eq-o-s are laid
on fine shingle, the birds make a most elaborate
collection of small fragments of shells, bleached crab-
remains, etc., and place these round their eggs. It
is only by the glitter of these shells that it is possible
to find the eggs when they are on a fair way to
incubation, for the sitting bird has a habit of burying
its eggs in the sand until only the tops are visible.
Two broods are reared each season on this sand-
beach, the first eggs being laid about the first of June,
the second at the beginning of August.

The Lapwing is another Plover which breeds on

44 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

the shingle. When the eggs of this species are
laid on stones, no nest is made, but when a marshy

solitude is chosen, quite a substantial nest is built ;
and again, when in a dry field, the eggs are

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE 45

simply laid in a slight hollow in the ground.
The reader will see from my illustration, that the
smaller ends all point inwards. If we alter their
positions and put the large end inwards, the first
thing which instinct teaches the Lapwing to do on
her return will be to shift the eggs to their original
position. A good-sized stone was among the eggs,
as was the case with the Redshank's nest previously
mentioned. One would have thought that such
obstacles would have been of great discomfort to
the sitting birds.

We. are familiar with the fierce controversies
which arose in Lilliput concerning the larger and
the smaller ends of eggs. There seems to be
something in it after all — at all events from the
Lapwing's point of view.

In parts of Scotland the Peewit has the reputation
of being an unlucky bird. It is said that when the
Covenanters were fleeing from their enemies. Lap-
wings were seen to be hovering over them, so that
through these birds the pursuers of the Covenanters
were able to discover their whereabouts. On
another occasion, however, the Lapwing was the
means of directing the followers of a certain chief
to the place where he lay wounded. Certain young
Green Plovers were probably in hiding somewhere
near the fallen hero, and the parent birds would
then fly round and about him, as they always will

46 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

if any one invades their nesting ground when the
young are hatched.

To my mind, one of the prettiest sights to be
met with in bird-land is the nesting site of a colony
of Terns. On one part of the wide-stretching
shingle beach there is a large family of Common
Terns, and also a few of the Lesser Terns. The
nests of the former species are placed close together,
and are not nearly so difficult to find as those of
the Little Tern. As soon as an intruder is seen
among the nests all the birds rise, fly upward, and
then perform the most graceful of aerial evolutions.
The fishermen call these birds Sea-swallows, owing
to their graceful and buoyant flight, and the name
is eminently suitable.

While I was photographing a nest of the Common
Tern, there suddenly occurred great commotion
amongst the feathered colony overhead, and the
cause very soon became apparent. It seems that
Herring-Gulls are exceedingly fond of the Terns'
eggs, and one of these large birds was actually
seen to be making a raid on the colony. Uttering
loud, harsh screams, cJiee-u-i, chee-u-i, some of the
Terns formed up in a line on each side, while others
got above and behind the robber bird. Those above
swooped down upon the Gull, while those behind
drove him forward ; and under pressure from this
formidable force the prisoner for the time being

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE 47

was led, or rather driven, far out to sea. While we

were lvin<

behind a ridse of shingle, endeavourino-

to find a Little
Tern's nest by
watching the
birds with our
field-glasses, this
interesting per-
formance was
several times
repeated.

We found and
phot ographed
many clutches of
eggs of the
Common Tern.
In most instances
a ncbt was formed,
yet we also saw
the eggs on the
bare shingle. T

three eggs

^, ''

fMf^

-.i"^*?*'-

^'^x..-^^,--

S'^i

'i^>^

({"iv (-..

OF COMMON TERN.

e
vary
a good deal ;
some are of a
yellow ground-
colour with brown markings, and others range to
dark olive green.

We tried searching for the es^as of the Little

48 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

Tern, but to find them in this way was an almost
impossible task, as they so marvellously resemble
the stones lying around. By watching the actions
of the birds, we were rewarded for our patience by
discovering three nests ; two of these only contained
one egg, while the other had the full complement —
three. Although these interesting birds have greatly
diminished in numbers on this favourite breeding-
ground when compared with the quantities that bred
here twenty years ago, they are now gradually on
the increase again. I sincerely hope collectors will
not again attempt to thin their ranks, as they have
done in the past. The small size of the eggs, and
their distinct markings of two colours — vandyke
brown and faint brown-grey — serve to distinguish
them from all other eggs of the Tern family. Some
eggs have all the marks pointing in one direction,
the effect being as if the colours had been put on
in a wet state, and had ' run ' ; the darker markings
also blend in with the larger grey patches, and
form another shade of brown.

The photograph of the Little Tern sitting on
its eggs was obtained after some considerable diffi-
culty and necessary patience. The camera itself
was placed on the shingle, about two yards from the
nest, and covered with a khaki-coloured cloth, this
again being hidden, as much as possible, with stones.
I then ventured to try the experiment of myself

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE

hiding in the stones about one hundred and twenty
feet from the camera, having a pneumatic tube con-
nection to the instantaneous shutter. In this position
I was unable to see the locaHty of the eggs, so that
one of our party retired to about one hundred yards'

i V .•»

^^^•:^

LITTLE TERN SITTING.

distance, meanwhile taking care that I could see
him. By the aid of his field-glass he was able to
see when the bird settled on her eggs. The Tern
flew over the heap of stones under which the camera
was hidden, as if undecided what to do, and then
she disappeared from my view. Presently, however,

50 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

I saw my friend raise his hand, as a signal that
the Tern was on her nest. One pressure of the
ball was not sufficient to release the shutter, owing
to the length of tubing ; so I had to fill the tube
with air, and then pinch it to prevent the air return-
ing to the ball. This was unscrewed and allowed
to fill, and then fixed on again, and by repeating
this three times, enough air was in the tubing to
set off the shutter. I was able, in this way, to get
some pictures of this becoming and attractive bird.
Two of the series are shown in this volume.

It will be seen from the photographs what a
difficult thing it is to see eggs when laid on the
pebbles of a wide-stretching shingle beach ; but I
can nevertheless assure the reader that they are
very much more easily seen in the pictures than
they were when lying among the stones. Only
a few square inches surround the eggs in the
finished prints ; but let any interested person try
to imagine what the difficulties are when there is
a nest to be found surrounded by a square mile
or more of shingle, and probably only a single
nest at the best in this vast expanse of stones.
The illustrations of nests, as given, are the result
of three long days' work under such difficulties as
have been described. Our chief hindrance was,
undoubtedly, the wind, which is always more or
less prevalent on such a great tract of flat country.

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE

Some of the fishermen, who cany on their
calHng on the sea alongside this beach, are
generally very familiar with the habits of these

/* w^

birds which make their homes among the stones.
Many of their children are even adepts in their
ability to discover the nests. Whenever any of

52 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

these youthful birdsnesters notice any intruder to
be searching for eggs they will immediately make
towards him and offer their own finds for sale.

As already hinted, it is a wonder to me how
these birds manage so readily to find their nests
again after having once left them. One of the
more observant of the fishermen told me that
sometimes the Little Tern will hover over the site
of her nest for some time as if searching for the
exact spot. Certainly one bird which we watched
seemed to have some difficulty in finding her eggs
again after we had roused her off them ; for she
flew backwards and forwards over the spot, or near to
it, and when the eggs were at last seen she suddenly
dropped to them. In the main, instinct may be
a practically unerring guide ; but in what degree at
times it may possibly fail we know not. Indeed,
we know no more about the mysteries of instinct
than we do about those of gravitation.

It was very noticeable that many of the eggs we
found had a small twig or piece of wood near them.
These were undoubtedly placed there by the birds,
as landmarks. My friend Mr. Hanson, who visited
this beach during the spring of 1899, also found
this habit to be the general rule. When the eggs
are near a bush or other prominent object no
such landmarks are wanted.

On this stone beach are two large ponds. These

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE 53

are surrounded by marshy ground, thick with reeds
and sedge, while on the water are patches of aquatic
plants forming small islands. A colony of Black-
headed Gulls have bred in the pits for a great
number of years, and when we visited them the
birds were sitting on their eggs. It often happens

Ll. b M_sT.

that eggs are picked up on the shingle round the
water, the birds being compelled to lay before the
nests are ready. I was fortunate enough to find
a very fine specimen, which I now have in my
collection. The nests are exceedingly diiTicult to
approach, owing to the marshy condition of the
land nearest the water. One man who was a g-ood

WilliATKAK S XEST.

BLIC

SOME BIRDS OF THE SHORE 55

swimmer lost his life a few years ago in attempting
to get to the eggs.

The brightest, but some of the smallest, birds
which choose this shingle for their home are
Wheatears. They breed in all sorts of queer
places, the favourite being in the many rabbit
burrows which are found in the few sandy portions
of the beach. We heard of one being in a fish
box, and could have photographed it if we had
cared to walk another four miles over the shingle.
The one pictured is in a characteristic place ; nearly
all the old pans or tins lying on the land are taken
possession of by these birds. The cock Wheatear
is a handsome bird, and gives endless delight to an
observer who cares to watch its engaging ways.

The acquaintance thus made with these birds
which breed on stones was a new experience, which
has left many pleasant memories. It seemed to be
one of the less trodden byways of bird-land, which
still served to widen one's views and appreciation
of the wonders of nature as a whole.

Ill

The Passing of Winter

THE presence of the Redwing in the meadow
tells us as plainly as falling leaves and
changing tints can do, that summer is dead. Hedge-
rows which a few days before were tinted with
crimson and gold, are now naked and black, only
relieved by bunches of red berries by way of autumn's
cheer. Instead of now eating the fruit, the
birds let it hang until frost and snow clear the
country of other supplies. The birds are as
yet wild and difficult to approach ; for food
is plentiful, and all birds are wild under such
circumstances.

Other signs that the year is dying are seen on
every hand. Here and there stand once gay
flower-stalks, now drooping and bare, reminding
us of the brighter days not long passed. When
Swallows left for the sunshine of the South, the
trees were shedding their leaves, and now only the
oaks and young beeches have their foliage — and

THE PASSING OF WINTER 57

this is shrivelled and brown. Fieldfares haunt the
margins of woods, and are seen singly ; they do not
flock together until colder weather comes. From
amongst the decaying leaves which accumulate where
wood and field meet, a Woodcock is occasionally
seen ; I indeed almost tread upon one before it
rises, and flies away with its curious zigzag flight,
to be out of view in a moment or so.

In marshy, low-lying meadows Snipe are some-
times flushed ; it is impossible to see them as they
' squat ' on the mud. I once stood within a few
yards of where I had watched some Snipe down.
The ground had been freshly turned, and vegetation
was almost absent, — just here and there a tuft of
grass showing itself, but not enough to conceal
a bird. I knew within a few inches where the
Snipe were, and looked carefully, but not a bird
could be seen. Approaching, I looked again, but
still none were visible ; then, when almost on the
spot, several rose from a space of four feet square,
the very part which had been looked over. I just
mention this incident to show how the Snipe
can effectively hide on bare ground by simply
' squatting ' and relying on the colour of its
feathers, which harmonise so wonderfully with
the bare earth.

The music which made valley and hill alike so
joyful in spring is almost absent. Robins still sing.

58 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

however, and Hedge Sparrows do so at intervals.
Young Carrion-Crows still follow their parents, and
when their loud, harsh cry sounds through the
woods, many of the smaller birds fly from their
path to seek shelter in the thicker bushes.

As the days pass, so the procession of winter
goes forward. Each rising and setting of the sun
brings a still more w^intry aspect. The first frosts
make most birds tame. Finches sit in rows on
slender twigs, with feathers ruffled and heads drawn
in. Thrushes and Blackbirds invade gardens and
search diligently for hidden snails ; when one is
found they come into the open and violently dash
the shell on to a stone until it breaks.

The stream is still made fascinating by the
presence of the Kingfisher. As he flies past, or
stops to hover for a moment over the water, his
colours seem more brilliant even than in summer
days ; and this is owing to the banks of the stream
being bare of coloured flowers. The water also
is less clear ; for ditches and miniature watercourses,
which drain into the brook, bring sand as they flow
alongside the wood or trickle down the pathw^ay
from the hill, and in consequence, the stream in
winter is not so pure as when the butterflies flitted
along its banks. But although other charms of
summer have passed away, the Kingfisher still
remains ; and the little bird of azure blue, as it

THE PASSING OF WINTER 59

darts past, seems for the moment to bring back
the light of summer.

With the first fall of snow we are able to get
quite close to the wildest birds. Redwings and
Fieldfares do not fly from our path, as they were
wont to do ; they stay in the trees and watch
while we pass, although the latter sometimes rise
and settle again a little farther on, their loud call,
chuff-cJmff-cJiuff, relieving the wintr\' quietness. A
Kestrel sits on a prominent oak branch to survey
the white country for half an hour at a time ; then
he will buoyantly sally forth and hover over the
banks of the stream and other spots where the
snow is thinner, or where grass blades show through
the whiteness.

With hoar frost on their lesser branches, and
snow on the thicker boughs, the trees make up as
it were a wintry battalion, subdued and patient,
waiting for the return of spring. The woods are
thus still most beautiful. Standing underneath
large trees and gazing upward, the scene is as if
one were in a great forest of white coral. Wonderful
groves, one beyond and above another, of glistening
frost-crystal-covered branches stretch before one,
seeming fit homes for fairies ; while on each side
smaller bushes fill up the alcoves, and seem as
though they might be their bowers.

Here and there rises a giant tree amongst smaller

6o WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

companions, standing out with whitened branches,
silent and motionless, like a sentinel of winter and
of the wood. Blue Tits, always busy birds, search
underneath the larger boughs where the snow^ has
not reached ; Robins hunt under bramble bushes
for food, and if one enters another's domain a fight
ensues. On the western side of the trees, where
snow has not found a resting-place, silver-breasted
Tree-Creepers ascend. Sometimes a large tree
is chosen, at other times a thin trunk is well
searched ; the firs, however, seem their favourite
haunts, through being more sheltered. Goldcrests
and Long-tailed Tits in company pass from tree
to tree, and knock down little showers of snow
crystals as they hang in curious positions on the
branches. Their faint call-notes, zee-zee-zee^ are
as music in the woods when most birds are silent ;
Blue Tits make the woods the merriest, with their
musical chi-chi, cliing-ching, uttered incessantly
throughout the morning, and the Great Tits respond
with their louder cry.

If it were not for the presence of birds in the
fields and woods in winter. Nature would seem to
be really dead. The interesting little workers give
life to the seemingly dormant surroundings ; and
without their enlivening notes and engaging actions
the country would be sombre indeed. But where
birds are there are also life and happiness.

THE PASSING OF WINTER 6i

There is one thing which relieves the monotony of
the life of the City of London, preventing its becoming
to a naturalist, in a sense, the dullest place on earth,
and that is the presence of Sparrows and Pigeons.
The Sparrows especially seem to give to the un-
picturesque squares and still less interesting streets,
a little taste of the country ; and even their noisy
quarrels and merry chirpings are a source of interest
to some at least in the crowds who pass them by.

The first snow does not last long ; the fields look
green once more, again the birds are singing. Sky-
Larks are soaring and attempting to utter their
notes, but not succeeding soon descend, for the
winter, though yielding a little to spring's advance,
has not yet left us. After a few days of clearer
sunshine we begin to hope that spring is really
with us, but suddenly the cold pall of winter again
overshadows the land. So sudden is this after the
warm days, that certain birds arc starved, especially
Starlings. Rooks stand in the snow-covered meadows,
and fly to anything which shows black above the
whiteness, a dismal caw being given when this is
seen not to be food. Others keep under oaks and
scratch the snow away, turning up a quantity of
dead leaves in their efforts to find acorns.

Finches call from the railway embankment ; there
are many kinds there, for numbers of dead plants
stand where the snow is thinnest, and on these,

62 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

eating the seeds, are Linnets and others. Pert
Httle Redpolls are the most interesting : they perch
on the stalks, which bend with their weight, break
open the pods and allow the seeds to fall on the
snow, then descend and feast on the supply thus
ingeniously collected. If a companion or one of
the Linnets approach, an angry whistle, pe-u-e, is
uttered, and their red crests arc raised. The plump,
well-built, busy little birds look by their pretty
habits as if no weather would upset their equanimity.
Though Linnets are quieter they are quite as busy,
but not so easy to approach. The confiding Red-
polls seem perfectly unconscious of our presence,
and swing to and fro on stems while we stand
quite near to them. Cock Chaffinches are also
here, dressed in their handsome winter plumage ;
they walk gracefully about on the crisp white
surface, as well becomes a bird in such royal
colours. Every now and then many of the birds
rise and fly to other parts, but it is noticed that
Redpolls remain and diligently ' work' the seed-pods.

Large flocks of Larks fly southward in hope
of finding food, so also do Redwings. Fieldfares
remain and flock together ; and it is a problem what
they feed on, for all the hips and haws were cleared
from the hedges during the first fall of snow.

Underneath a hedgerow something white attracts
notice ; it is of a different tint to the snow, and

THE PASSING OF WINTER 63

stooping to see what it may be, I am surprised to
find a flower of the white dead nettle. Just this
one little cluster of velvety white flowers standing
alone in acres of snow-covered ground seems
strangely out of place. Is it a sign that winter
has not long to stay ?

Days pass, however, and snow still lies on the
trees and ground, but the pure whiteness gives
place to darker shades, the reason being that winds
have caused tiny furrows to form on the surface,
and these throw shadows which cause the apparent
darker shade to appear.

How effectively does snow bring out the shapes
of trees ! The graceful curve of the ash can be
recognised from a great distance ; so also can the
oaks, while the elm has its own peculiar form.
Nearly all the trees can be distinguished as well
as they could in summer. Although the leaves
add a great charm, even bare trees are still attractive ;
we see what did not so much strike us before ;
they have a beauty in their time of winter rest.

One evening, as the Starlings are going to their
roosting-place in the ivy-covered house, one is seen
to fall from the flock. It sustains a broken leg in
falling ; the frozen snow does not yield as it would
if freshly drifted. The poor bird just had strength
to reach its nightly home, and then gave in ex-
hausted. It died soon after, and on examination

64 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

it is seen that skin, bones, and feathers are practically
all ithat is left of this once noisy and active little
creature. Starvation had done its work ; and hundreds
of others suffered a similar fate. Dead birds are
seldom seen in the open fields. A characteristic
habit of birds and other animals is to hide in some
out-of-the-way nook when death is drawing near.

At length the snow shows signs of melting and
giving way before the increasing strength of the
sun ; but at night it freezes again and so counter-
balances the action of the heat. The wind, however,
one evening goes round to the south-west, and the
effect is remarkable. In about twelve hours there
is not a trace of snow to be seen, and the low-
lying meadows, which a few hours ago were clothed
in white, are now several feet deep in water. The
cart-ruts down the hillsides are miniature rivers, and
make the water below rise still more rapidly.

On the margins of the newly formed lakes many
species of birds arc feeding. Eield fares and Redwings
are there, Pied Wagtails, a Carrion-Crow, Meadow-
Pipits — the latter continually ' sparring ' at each
other and calling weet-weet ; many kinds of Finches
also are seen. On the water itself eight Moor-hens
are contentedly swimming gracefully about, and
looking as if the flooded field had been their home
for long instead of only for a few hours. Missel
Thrushes, Blackbirds, large parties of Starlings,

THE PASSING OF WINTER 65

Sparrows, and a host of other birds add to the
mixed crowd, and they are all surprisingly tame,
with the exception of the Crow ; and all were intent
on one object — to obtain a good meal, and it was easy
to see that their appetites were being satisfied.

The next day broke fresh and cloudless, and the
weather continued so for awhile. Spring seemed
to be coming on apace. On a piece of waste
ground are hundreds of tiny white flowers nestling
among leaves of emerald green. Chickweed thus
loses no time in taking advantage of the life-giving
sunshine. The banks by the hedgeside are becoming
daily more green, the umbelliferous plants are
growing rapidly and hiding others of slower growth.

Birds everywhere are singing and rejoicing in
the approach of spring. Cock Sparrows are daily
carrying on furious battles, cheered on, as it were,
by the chattering hens. The Rooks hold their
'parliaments' more frequently, and some fly to the
rookeries and have loud and long consultations on
the dilapidated condition of the nests. Some of
the older and more astute members of the colony
take possession of the best nests, and forthwith
commence repairing them. In the wood Ring-
Doves are cooing sweetly to each other, and
are already thinking of nesting, while Crows are
searching for eligible sites for building.

Sheltered ground beneath the woodland trees is

66 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

white with drooping snowdrops ; and while taking
notice of these a Sky-Lark, just over the hedge in
a meadow, rises and soars upwards with a full burst
of glorious song. The familiar notes, which I had
not heard during many months, held me enraptured.
Higher and higher he rises, his notes sounding weaker
as he nears the white fleecy clouds. At last the
singer reaches his limits, flutters and struggles to
get higher, but strength fails, although he still sings,
resting on outspread wings, and then he descends.

The pure notes go straight to my heart and fill
me with joy. Down, down he comes — still slowly —
and singing as if his little body could not contain
the joy and thanksgiving he is pouring out so
passionately and fully. Half way down he stops,
flutters and tries to soar again, but he cannot ;
again his wings are spread and he comes downwards.
What memories the notes awaken ; what thoughts of
past springtimes and brighter summers ! The very
notes, though simple, speak of joy, and seem to
be connected with sunshine and flowers. A spell
holds me as this little harbinger of spring heralds
coming brighter days, and I cannot leave the spot
while he continues to sing. But at length he is
almost down ; his wings are closed ; he drops to
the earth ; the music ends, and the meadows seem
by way of contrast to be wrapt in silence.
The Winter has Passed.

IV
Early Spring in a Middlesex Wood

ALTHOUGH the first week in April has nearly
passed, no feathered migrants have yet
arrived. Still, there is no lack of song to welcome
on-coming Spring. A Blackbird gives forth his
wild notes from a tree on the one hand, and seems
to encourage others ; on the other side is a Coal
Tit, busy in working round the leaves of a holly
bush ; and every now and then he knocks one
off while capturing insects. In the interior of the
wood some Jays are screaming, and Jackdaws join
in with their cr\' oi jaack.

The wood itself is not so green as is usual at
this time of the year. Everything in the way of
natural growths is backward. Round about the
base of bushes and trees decaying leaves have
collected in small heaps ; and these give rise to
a continual rustling when disturbed by the wind.
Some dead bracken still stands, but the main part
is broken down. The prevailing tint is brown ;

6S WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

for, in addition to fallen leaves and bracken, a
number of young trees still retain their shrivelled
foliage. Holly bushes, however, show a dark green
tint here and there, and so relieve the prevailing
colour.

Between the bushes and heaps of drifted leaves
there is a green carpet of moss. We can walk
on this silently, and approach both birds and
animals without their quick ears giving them
warning. I am able to stalk a Thrush and get
within touching distance, and then retire without
the bird knowing of my presence. A rabbit emerges
from a little canopy of bracken and unconcernedly
feeds near where I stand ; and then other com-
panions come on the scene, and all skip about,
jumping over each other, and running round,
throwing up their hind legs as if kicking at
some imaginary object. A Ring-Dove flies across
the wood, and with much noise settles on a holly
bush. Coo-coo-coo is now heard ; and from a
tree farther in the wood an answer at once
comes — a call for the first bird to fly away to join
its mate.

But hark ! what is that commotion on the
ground ? The cause soon becomes apparent : a
rabbit, panting with fright and exertion, dashes
past, just stopping to stand up on his haunches
and to prick up ears before darting on again at

JO WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

full speed. Other rabbits which have been
feeding near hasten to their holes to lie concealed
in safety. It is easy to guess what has
occasioned all this excitement : a weasel is on the
track in search of prey, and in a few minutes
the determined little animal appears, following
in the rabbit's footsteps as perseveringly as any
beast of prey might do. He looks a comical,
diminutive fellow, as he runs along with an odd
kind of hopping movement, and arched back.
Sniffing to the right and then to the left, he moves
slower than the rabbit, but we may rest assured
that the weasel will win in this race.

So persistent are these small depredators that
they will follow a trail for a mile or more, and
in the end they nearly always secure their prey.
Many rabbits are passed by in the seemingly slow
hunt ; and while these are left untouched, undivided
attention is given to the animal which is being
tracked. The doomed rabbit halts to rest many
times, crouching in the grass, but only again to
hear the same plodding and approach of its enemy.
Rushing forward, more scared at every stage, the
timid bunny is at last exhausted, or thoroughly
worn out by fright, and it will either hide in a
burrow, or bury its head in thick-growing grass.
The rabbit is now doomed ; for the weasel follows,
and is soon partaking of a hard-earned meal. At

IN A MIDDLESEX WOOD

night weasels will noiselessly climb hedges to capture
roosting birds. While on nocturnal rambles in
bird-land, the last cry of a captured bird, or the
squeal of a dying rabbit is often heard. Weasels
as interesting little creatures are becoming scarcer
each year, owing to the havoc they cause among
game birds. They have a habit of prying into
nearly ever}' hole
they see ; and know-
ing this, the trapper
places a box in the
corner of a field
with a small hole in
the side ; the trap
is put just inside
the hole, and the
weasel, innocently
entering, is caught.
My friend M r .
Hanson once saw
a weasel being chased down a well-frcqucnted road
at Tottenham by a number of angry, chattering
sparrows. The weasel had evidently been tres-
passing near their nests, and the clamouring birds —
about thirt}' in all — gave chase and scared the
dangerous little intruder away.

Blackbirds are perhaps the most persistent singers
at this time of the year. They are on all sides

THE SCARED RABBIT.

72 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

around, and when one finishes his song and pauses

others fill up the interval, so that the music shall

still go on. One
has just settled
on the summit of
a young beech,
under which rab-
bits are again
playing. His
sable form is out-
lined against the
blue sky ; both
loud and sweet is
his short whistling
song ; and then
he passes on, pre-
sently to be heard
in another part of
the wood. The
Blackbird is rest-
less : he does not
sing from one
perch, like the
Thrush ; he moves
about, so as to

give to each part of the wood the benefit of his notes.
Carrion-Crows are building not far away ; the

pair are constantly calling. Moor-hens, too, are

ROBIN S NEST.

IN A MIDDLESEX WOOD 73

continually cn'ing kain-a ; the lake in the wood
being an attraction to various water-fowl. Two
Robins have been watching me for some time ;
they are building near, for one has a dead leaf in
its beak ; but no amount of waiting seems likely
to discover the site of their nest. I searched care-
fully where I thought it might be found, but no
trace could be seen. Robins will never allow the
whereabouts of their nest to be discovered while
building ; if watched, they will keep away from
their half-finished home for hours. Such is the
intelligence of instinct.

At the extreme end of the wood is a grass bank
under the hedge, and while passing alongside of
this I saw a Robin's nest already containing eggs.
The sitting bird betrayed the site by flying out ;
if she had remained still her nest -would not have
been pictured here. In the hedge a Blackbird's
nest is found with two eggs — not even a branch
hides it from a passer-by. The few Blackbirds
and Thrushes which build before the leaves appear
never seem to build their nests in sheltered places.
I think these must belong to young birds, which
have not had the experience of some of their older
companions ; the latter always build in ' tight' places
from the photographer's point of view.

A strange Robin from another quarter of the
wood perches on a stump and commences to sing ;

74 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

but before the song is over one of the Robins
which are building near fiercely charges the intruder
and drives him away. Woodpeckers are busy at
their nesting-holes ; and the rattling noise they
make while boring is very deceiving. I have often
tried to stalk them ; but when I reached the place
whence the noise at first seemed to come, the skilful
operators seemed to be as far away as ever, and
eventually the nest has been discovered nearly
half a mile distant, although the noise at first
sounded only one hundred yards off. It is the
Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, the smallest of the
species, which makes the most noise ; the Greater
Spotted Woodpecker also can be heard at a great
distance when at work. When the Green Wood-
pecker bores a nesting-hole, it works in quieter
style. There are several pairs in the wood, and
they are constantly calling, but it is difficult to
get near them. I have seen them busy near an
ant-hill ; and a charming sight it is when this bird,
clothed in his spring plumage, runs here and there,
darting out his long tongue to pick up ants.

The Woodpecker's tongue is covered with a
glutinous substance, and insects have no chance
of escape if they are once touched. In addition to
this, the tip of the horny tongue is also provided
with a number of delicate bristles, slanting in a
backward direction. These are also very useful

IN A MIDDLESEX WOOD 75

in extracting insects from deep crevices in decayed
trees, or from holes in the ground. When the
winter months are exceptionally warm, W'oodpeckers
will commence their nesting-holes in the opening
weeks of the year. The same tree is often chosen
year after year. I knew of a Lesser Spotted Wood-
pecker's hole which a pair of Marsh-Tits were wanting
to appropriate. When the Woodpecker returned
and found them in possession it began another
hole a little farther down the tree. A Greater
Spotted Woodpecker has made its nesting-hole
near where I sit ; it is immediately over a path-
way along which hundreds of people pass weekly,
and chips of wood from the hole are strewn on
the gravel. As I write, the bird returns and runs
up the trunk in a series of short jerks. Now he
descends, not like a Nuthatch would do, by turning
round and going down head foremost ; he walks,
or rather jerks himself down, tail first. I am then
suddenly seen, and with a short cry the bird hurriedly
flies away.

The Blackbird, which has been going the round
of the wood, has just returned to sing his wild
notes once again from . the same tree-top ; but he
is still in a hurried mood, and flies across the
pathway to the bushes. At the end of the wood
is an open space, where are some sallow bushes,
about which many insects are flying, A humble-

je WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

SITE OF GREATER SPOTTED WOODPECKERS
NEST.

bee — the first seen
of the season —
buzzes past ; but,
attracted by the
yellow, sweet-
smelling catkins,
he turns in his
path and settles
on a flower.

Over the \vood-
side hedge is a
long, hilly, winding
road. I seldom can
quite reach the end
of this interesting
lane when explor-
ing it, for there is
always so much to
see and admire at
all seasons of the
year. In spring-
time many kinds
of birds are always
there, busy attend-
ing to their nests ;
bright flowers and
gay butterflies
adorn the roadside

IN A MIDDLESEX WOOD ^j

in summer. When autumn brings her golden tints
to the oaks, squirrels play about the branches ; and
in winter, hundreds of small birds can always be
seen searching for food in the hedges, which are
tall enough to make the seclusion more complete.
There is always something to attract attention, and
to learn in this lane. Nature always teaches some
new lesson if we wait with patience while making
our observations. The secret of seeing to advantage
wild Nature and her many species of birds and
animals is to remain perfectly still, and wait for
the birds and animals to com.e to us.

Beside ancient rugged trees, in which Jackdaws
are now building, there is here and there a
picturesque cottage — a charming old place externally,
which harmonises well with the green surroundings.
Such homesteads are not like commonplace modern
villas, but look as though, like the trees, they had
been placed there by Nature. These old homesteads
have stood for scores of years, and will remain
long after many modern ill-built houses have fallen
to ruin. Whatever may have been the faults of
our forefathers, they knew how to build houses that
would last. Whatever they did in this department
they did well, and their hearts were in their work.
In our day the countryside is so often marred by
builders whose learning is confined to the catechism
of money-making by jerry-building.

Round and about a Suburban Orchard
Part L Spring

7^ HE soft air is filled with the perfume of fruit
blossoms. Row after row of plum trees stand
robed in clusters of white flowers, that are as
dazzling to the eyes as snow when we look upon
them. A few days ago these branches were bleak
and bare, but the mysterious power of the sun has
in so short a time opened the buds, which now diffuse
their scent in all the beauty and promise of young
spring life. Now and again a white petal floats
down upon the still air, to find a resting-place on
my note-book. Sometimes a bird knocks off a
blossom, at other times a bee will cause one to fall.
The humble-bee seems always to be in a hurry ;
for it dashes along, and, when settled on a flower,
does not stay, but hurries onward to another, while
others, quite as industrious, take its place. There
are hundreds of such passing to and fro among the

lovely and inviting blossoms. Butterflies also, now

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SPRING 79
awakened from their winter sleep, are attracted by

'1 .«^-'^^

GARDEN-WARBLER S NEST.

the sweet-smelling flowers, and flit merrily about
the green avenues of trees. Although it was a very

8o WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

cold winter, many of these have survived to see this
great resurrection. A Peacock butterfly settles on
the greensward by the pathway ; its wings are
ragged and torn, but the warmth and sunny cheer-
fulness of this spring day has brought it from a
protected place of hiding. So also is it with the
Common Blue butterfly, that little jewel of Nature
which we associate with the hot days of July and
August. One dances along as it were, and joins
in the procession of spring, now returning to claim
its own.

Garden-Warblers have just arrived, but are not
yet in full song. They are in many a tree, and they
can be seen to be picking insects out from the
blossoms. How delicately they take their food !
Very quietly they creep about the branches, and
gracefully eat the insects, seeming as if they were
almost afraid of damaging the petals. What a
contrast is such carefulness to the destructiveness
of the Bullfinch ! I love the Garden-Warblers
above all woodland birds ; they have always been
favourites of mine, on account of their winning
habits. The Blackcap is nobler, both in song and
plumage, but still the Garden-Warbler is my chief
woodland friend. Blackcaps came back to their
old haunts a week ago, and are now filling the
alcoves of the blossom-mantled trees with their
own sweet wild music. When they first arrived

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SPRING 8i

their song lacked the fulness and perfection that
now gives it perfect charm,

I love to think that it must be the beauty of the
spring which makes the birds sing so perfectly at
such a time. To live among all this loveliness seems
as though it must have an inspiring effect even on
them. Just think of the freshness of the newly-clad
world that is their native domain. In the springtime
they live in luxur\^ beyond description ; wc cannot
look in any direction without seeing flowers, and
insects and other food are here in greatest profusion.
No wonder that the air is filled with avian music —
an expression of their jc^}' and satisfaction.

One of the most charming attributes of Nature is
the luxuriance of her gifts. There is not only no stint,
the provision is profuse ; each tree has thousands of
leaves, yet not one too many. If we were to take
a thousand leaves from a large tree it would still
present an unaltered appearance. The fields also
abound with flowers, and grass blades are there
without number, yet each has its place. Pluck a
flower here, or break a branch from the hedgerow
there, and Nature soon fills up the gap.

Another attraction of Nature is her perfect symmetry
without uniformity. Nature does not work like a
machine, but gives proof of an Infinite Intelligence in
her designs. Every tree differs from its neighbour,
and no two leaves are alike in form. Note the

82 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

blossom on the trees; the branches are hidden by
bunches of flowers, each having its own tint.

A stream divides the orchard from a wood
adjoining, and a waggon-track along the bank
overshaded on one side by woodland trees, and
on the other by a variety of fruit blossoms, makes
an extended bower of rare attraction — a paradise
of promise for harvest time. A continuous stream
of life passes along underneath this sylvan canopy.
Butterflies, one following another, fly by, and
Warblers sing in the bushes. A few Orange-tip
butterflies, some of the most beautiful objects of
returning spring, have here and there emerged from
the chrysalis, and have entered upon their life in a
perfect state, to make the brilliantly clad fields
still more fascinating. As the Garden -Warbler is
my best-liked bird, so is the Orange-tip my favourite
butterfly, being always associated in my mind ^^'iLh
one of the most delightful pictures of Nature which
I ever looked upon. I had suffered from a long
illness ; but on the first day I was able to go
abroad I wandered alongside this same orchard
from which I now write. It was winter when I
took to my bed ; and I was almost cut off from
Nature except what I was able to observe from
my chamber window. The scene which I looked
upon when I walked along this pathway will
always remain a lasting picture in my mind. I

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SPRING S3

remember my emotions of delight when I once
more looked upon Nature clothed in her spring
garb. It was as if I had suddenly entered a paradise
of beauty — a remnant of Eden. The trees were
a blaze of colour, as thev are now, while birds

ORANGE-TIP BUTTERFLY.

aloft and on every side seemed to be singing more
sweetly than they ever sang before. I remember
more particularly a Blackcap perched on a hawthorn
branch, whose song rings in my ears still. But
what chiefly attracted my attention was the Orange-
tip butterflies, which were fluttering hither and

84 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

thither over the flowers. One settled on me, and
bathed its delicate wings in the sunshine. It was
the first time I had seen this species in this orchard,
so that their very presence seemed to inspire new
love for Nature. Ever since, when I see one of
these butterflies, I think of that scene in Nature's
great gallery that is so vividly photographed on
;. ,.. my mind.

\ Willow-Wrens seem to be the commonest birds

-^>>^v^ .., in the orchard ; as soon as one finishes his

■ ^''} '•' ' song another takes up the chiming notes,

■''>'. A}'^ and the merry undulating whistle can be

heard from more than a few
trees in the great orchard.
The males at this season will
fight desperately for the hens :
one pair of veterans have just
had a ' set to ' in a plum tree,
and the victor is now singing
proudly, even defiantly, from a
top branch. No doubt his part-
ner, whom he has so gallantly
won, is near at hand to en-
courage his chivalrous senti-
ments. I like to watch these
pert little Warblers making
GREEN-VEINED WHITE thclr ucst. Thc hctt docs most

BUTTERFLY ASLEEP r 1 1 M 1 • 1 1

ON GRASS STEM. of thc builduig ; but her mate

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SPRING 85

brings the grasses, as a labourer might to a skilled
artificer, and after he has given his burden to the
builder he mounts to the tree above and sings,
evidently for joy. When the nest is completed he
has to sing the livelong day for very satisfaction.
Two Woodpeckers are at work in the wood beyond

AKDEX-WAKCLER SITTING.

the stream ; the loud resonant noise they make while
boring holes can be heard for nearly a mile. A
miniature v.aterfall adds diversity to the brook, and
where the water gently trickles down, a little basin
of crystal water has been formed. Here numbers
of song-birds come to drink and bathe. A few
minutes ago Greenfinches were splashing about, and

86 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

settled on the branches above to flutter and shake
themselves while drying their feathers. Now a Thrush
is drinking and more Greenfinches come and await
their turn ; there is a piping from a hawthorn bush,
and a Bullfinch hops down and drinks from the
little pool. All the birds know of this bath of clear
trickling water, and during the whole morning the
twittering Finches and Linnets come and go. A
few stay to sing, and then, seemingly attracted by
the lovely orchard, fly thither and are lost sight of
among the blossoms.

Flowers are beginning to cover the banks of the
stream with their seasonable hues. White and red
dead nettles are the most abundant, but here and
there a primrose — the flower of spring — shines from
amongst a wreath of green. Violets are nearly over ;
just one here and another there are all that are left
of the numbers that covered the banks a few days ngo.

As the thick nettles grow up, so the grass and
other plants try to reach above them in the struggle
for existence. The great struggle for life which is
always taking place in tropical forests is a sight
such as very few have an opportunity of seeing.
The same kind of thing on a smaller scale, however,
goes on along an English stream-bank, or hedgerow
during spring. When the winter frosts have gone
and the warmer days arrive, the grass commences
to grow rapidly in ever-increasing quantities ; but

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SPRING 87

in places the sunlight penetrates through the thickly
matted blades. Hundreds of seeds which have lain
dormant commence to germinate, and all of these
push upwards to reach the light Those that the
sun's rays can reach quickly gain strength ; and
the battle is then between the seedlinos themselves
and the grass. The stronger win, and thousands
of seedlings die because no light reaches them. If
we part the thickest grass clumps and allow the
light to enter below, we shall see in a very short
time dozens of seedlings shoot up and commence
a struggle amongst themselves which otherwise
would not have taken place.

Some of the weaker plants would have no chance
if they had to rely on themselves to reach the light.
Take the convolvulus, for instance. The tiny
seedling will push towards one of its stronger
neighbours and commence to wind around it for
support. When it reaches the sunlight it immediately
becomes strengthened, and envelopes, and sometimes
kills the plant which at first was so much stronger
than itself, and even saved its life, I have seen
its white flowers at the top of a tall, thick hawthorn
bush ; below, the bindweed was thin and the leaves
were small, but look at the top, where it receives the
stimulus of life-giving sun ! A mass of white flowers
is there, and the leaves are large and healthy.

The umbelliferous plants are some of the strongest,

88 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

and in the struggle generally win. When once they
have outstripped the grass and have secured more
light and room they very quickly grow, and will
even top the tall nettles ; they resemble miniature
trees, while Whitethroats delight to build in their
shelter, although for some reason the nests are never
placed actually in these large plants, but in the lower
herbage. Here, at all events, these plants are in
the greatest evidence, and the stream bank is a mass
of white from their umbel-like flower heads. Every
now and then one will shake, and a bird will dart
out and flutter above the miniature forest — as it must
seem to them — just stay to catch a fly, and then dart
back again.

If we move some of these plants aside and examine
the ground, we see many small tracks or tunnels
through the dwarf jungle. Most of these are formed
by mice ; and if we exercise a little patience, one of
these quiet brown animals will be seen to run along
its own made pathway. It may even be our good
fortune, while lying hidden amongst this thick cover,
to see these engaging little rodents at play ; or, what
is still prettier, climb about plant stems like tiny
monkeys, whose antics in some measure they seem
to imitate. When wandering about country lanes,
one often hears the mice and shrews squeaking, but
how few people ever take the trouble to find out
whence the curious noises come ! By carefully

90 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

parting the grass and then waiting, one is amply
rewarded for any trouble or patience ; for sooner
or later these interesting animals will appear. The
Kestrel knows all about them ; for when once this
bird of prey has seen a mouse emerge from cover,
and does not catch it at the first attempt, it is
surprising how long the bird will hover over that
spot. Sometimes instead of hovering he will settle
on the ground near the ' run,' and wait until the
mouse shows itself.

Across the stream in the shady depths of the
wood, and sheltered by a green canopy of young
leaves, there are a host of daffodils, which, however,
are now fading. Bluebells— a flower all children
love — help to tint the many-coloured woodland
carpet. In one corner of the orchard the ground
is overspread with yellow, dandelions being the chief
covering, but the lesser celandine, too, is there. When
we come farther into this golden corner a blue tint
is seen to mingle with the yellow. Between the
dandelions are patches of veronica, whose small
flowers of brilliant blue look as though they might
be jewels fallen from some fairy eastern sky, so
chastely brilliant are their petals. The germander
speedwell is one of the most beautiful of our wild
flowers.

In the corner beyond the flowers are many small
hills ; and late in the afternoon the moles, which

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD-SPRING 9:

I once

made them, will often come above ground,
caught one and placed
it on fairly hard ground,
to see whether it could
burrow into it. Several
attempts were made,
and at last the perse-
vering little creature
had to give up the at-
tempt. When placed
on softer ground it
buried itself out of

. 1 . 1 , MOLE.

sight m less than a

minute; and I obtained a photograph of the operation

just as it was disappearing. The mole will sometimes
squeak loudly if dis-
turbed or alarmed. A
few years ago I came
across a large specimen
in this orchard ; and
when I touched it with
a stick, it squealed after
the manner of a pig,
but of course in a minor
ke\'. Then to me it
has been really surpris-
ing to note how rapidly

a worm can move when a mole is in pursuit. One

MOLE BURROWING.

92 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

day I saw several worms rushing out of the ground
at an incredible speed for them, and presently a
mole also came to the surface, showing the cause
of their alarm. I was quite unaware that worms
could move so quickly until I witnessed this demon-
stration of the fact.

In this corner of the orchard the birds are singing
as if each were trying to surpass all the others ;
and one is struck with the beauty and purity of
their voices. No one song can really be heard
separately or distinctly, but there is a harmonious
chorus of Blackbirds, Blackcaps, Whitethroats, Willow-
Wrens, and Thrushes. The tiny brown Wren, too,
joins in this full concert ; he also must take his part.
He sits on a dead stump in the hedge ; and his
song, given with quivering wings and tail bobbing
up and down, can be heard above all of his bigger
comrades. Twice he sings, and then dives into the
thick hedge ; for he has a nest there made of dead
leaves — this being known only to myself and the
occupiers. Another pair of Wrens have their nest
in a gravel pit beyond the orchard boundary ; it is
built into the earth, and much resembles its surround-
ings. Near it are two empty nests built into the
earth in the same way. These extra nests, which
Wrens always build, have long been a mystery as to
the purpose they served. My opinion is, that they
are used by the young to roost in, after the manner

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SPRING 93

of young Moor-hens, which ahvays have sleeping
nests provided for them by their parents. Wrens
as a rule, lay eight eggs, and it would be an
impossibility for eight young to roost in one nest
when nearly full grown. A great many young birds
return at night to their nests to sleep, long after they
are able to provide for themselves.

Swallows sweetly twitter overhead, and skim above
and round about the orchard trees, sometimes resting
on the branches. This umbrageous and fruitful
orchard forms the charming world of hundreds of
Warblers, and of other migratory birds, during their
stay in this country. When the blossom fades,
Garden-Warblers will begin to build in the goose-
berry bushes below the larger trees. Blackcaps
build in the bushes bordering the stream ; White-
throats make their home along the hedgeside, hidden
by hedge-parsley. ^lissel-Thrushes already have
their nests in the trees, and a pair of Hawfinches
have just commenced building in a tree near where
I stand. Blackbirds and Thrushes breed in large
numbers, principally on the ground, some of their
nests being concealed among grass and nettles along-
side the orchard pathway. The majority are to be
found in clumps of rhubarb, however, and this seems
to be a curious place for a nest, but there have they
built and reared broods year after year. A Green-
finch flies past, with some difficult}' carrying a large

94 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

piece of tangled grass ; and I know of a Chafiinch's
nest in yonder hedge, so that the finches are now

all very busy.
Then Moor-hens
on the stream are
already collecUng,^^.. .
f o o d for their
young, or sh own-
ing them where
to find it for
themselves. Just
now 1 saw three
little black balls —
the young Moor-
hens— standing
on the edge of
their nest ; they
were evidently
just hatched, for
they had yet to
learn to hide
themselves as
soon as an in-
truder appeared.
The mother bird
flies away in
great alarm and calls to them, but they— in-
nocent little strangers— look at me and prefer

THRUSH S NEST IN RHl

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SPRING 95

to squeak at each other contentedly and un-
alarmed.

What a world of interest there is to see in an
orchard like this in the days of spring ! Wheresoever
one wanders, or looks, we cannot but be struck with
the exceeding beauty and varied wonders of Nature.
Here and now we see her at her fairest, clothed in
freshest garb, and made charming and melodious by
the love-talk or song of countless birds. We cannot
appreciate all this as we ought, or as we would ; the
mind cannot grasp all the meaning of such marvels.
'''^^lieve'^ yet could write what 1 felt when gazing on
the first primrose of spring, or listening to the first
call of the Chiff-chaff. Look upon this glorious patch
of veronica : one flower, one petal even, is a wonder
of beauty in itself; yet here arc m}'riads. Amidst all
this profusion we cannot concentrate our thoughts
lijlpn one single plant, insect, or bird ; there are such
numbers, and each and all are so wonderful. Every
leaf, or even each blade of grass that we so carelessly
trample upon, is ' a thing of beauty ' ; and we look
around until the mind seems to become bewildered
by the lavishness of Nature's gifts — the handiwork of
an Infinite Creator.

While the pageant of spring is passing before us,
in all the blaze of the midday sun, we cannot admire
everything as we should like to admire it. When
evening shadows fall, and all the earth is still ; when

96 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

flowers are closed and the birds are asleep, we can
more fully realise their meaning and their grandeur,
while we think upon the wonders of such an annual
resurrection. We look back upon each little incident
or scene, and see it again in our mind's eye, and then
we may in measure grasp the lessons that Nature
would teach. It is when the Brown Owl is hooting
in the wood, and the Nightingale warbling his song
of love and passion, that the mind becomes absorbed
with the extreme beauty of the earth. We see the
glorious pageant of spring under the strong rays of
the sun, and admire it ; but it is not until we come
to quieter eventide that we appreciate it most, amid
calmer surroundings.

Round and about a Suburban Orchard
Part IL Summer

THE blossoms have faded and fallen ; the
decayed petals which covered the ground
have disappeared ; the leaves have assumed the
darker green of summer. Numbers of birds are
flying to and fro, carrying food to sitting mates ;
for, although summer has commenced, it is still a
busy time in bird-land. Round and about this
orchard I have known fifty-nine different species
to breed. It is with five only of this number,
however, that I wish to deal — viz., Cuckoo, Lesser
Redpoll, Sky-Lark, Pied Wagtail, and Golden-
crested Wren.

The average date for the Cuckoo to arrive in our
northern suburb, according to my yearly notes, is
April 1 8. Everybody is pleased when the Cuckoo's
pleasantly reassuring note is first heard ; for that
is a true intimation that spring has really come.
We are specially favoured with these birds. I have

98 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

not been able to discover how many frequent our
woods and fields ; but to judge by the constant
calling from different points throughout a summer
day, there must be a good many. One bird more
particularly had a very remarkable note ; this was
the usual cry, but uttered in a much higher pitch.
Not being a musician, I cannot give the key of
this, but it often attracted the attention of persons
curious in such matters. In the afternoon or
evening the Cuckoo calls more frequently than is
the case during earlier hours in the day. I believe
that I hold the record of having heard the Cuckoo
call the greatest number of times in succession.
On June 12, 1900, I listened to one uttering its
cry Cuckoo, or perhaps more correctly, k/ioo-hoo, four
hundred and thirteen times. There were one or
two very short pauses, to take breath, as it were,
but with these exceptions, the bird kept on untiringly
calling for the number of times stated. When I
began to count, he had been at his performance some
time ; when I finished he made a pause of about
a minute, and then recommenced without showing
any symptoms of fatigue.

There is still much to be found out about the
Cuckoo. I regret that I have had so few oppor-
tunities of observing its habits. Although there are
so many individual birds about, nearly every nest
that would be likely to contain one of their eggs

cuckoo's egg in greexfixch's xest (clckoo's egg on the right).

lOO WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

is always robbed, either by an egg-stealing bird,
or by, what is far worse, one of the numerous bands
of loafers who haunt the neighbourhood, and seem
to get their chief pleasure in destroying nests ; or
even in the more brutal pastime of placing unfledged
young on a gatepost or fence and then stoning
the helpless little birds to death — this usually taking
place under the eyes of the distracted parent birds.
Notwithstanding its many genuine pleasures, there
is much of sorrow and pain in bird-land to a
humane naturalist.

Last spring I found a Greenfinch's nest with six
eggs ; it w^as in a well-concealed place, and I hoped
would escape molestation. A few days later a
Cuckoo placed her egg in the nest, at the same
time removing two of the Finch's eggs. After taking
much trouble, I was able to photograph this nest :
the Cuckoo's egg is the one on the right ; this was
of a faint reddish-white ground colour, spotted almost
equally all over with reddish spots, and was as far
removed in resemblance from a Greenfinch's egg
as almost any variety of the Cuckoo's. The nest
was robbed a few days later by a bird, for the empty
shells were still there.

The Cuckoo will sometimes place her egg in a
nest before it contains any others, the usual result
being, that the builders desert their chosen station
when they find an egg in the nest before it is

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SUMMER loi

finished, I am able to give an illustration of a
Pied Wagtail's nest which contains a Cuckoo's egg.

CUCKOO S EGG IN PIED WAGTAIL S NEST.

This was built in ivy growing over a fence, which
is always a favourite nesting-place of Pied Wagtails,

I02 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

It was well concealed among large leaves, a curious
thing being, that it w^as next to a gatepost, and
each time the gate was shut the nest was shaken.
A friend who showed me the nest thought this was
probably the cause of it being deserted. I do not
think the birds would have built the nest if they
had objected to the vibration, as the gate was
constantly being opened and closed while the nest
was being constructed. I rather think it was the
presence of the Cuckoo's egg before the nest was
completed that caused it to be forsaken. While
engaged in building, the Wagtails never flew
directly to the nest, but entered the ivy a little
to the left.

Pied W^agtails more than other birds seem to
know where they are protected, and will build in
suitable places in gardens close to a house. The
nest pictured was near to a window ; and the
pretty habits of the graceful little birds caused a
deal of entertainment to those who watched them.
The Cuckoo's egg had a green ish-\vhite ground
colour, profusely speckled with greenish-brown and
dark brown spots and faint grey undermarkings.
The resemblance to a Pied Wagtail's egg was
very marked, except in size, and this helped to
distinguish it.

Although we have so many Cuckoos in this
district, a young bird of this species is seldom seen.

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SUMMER 103

I myself have never seen one in these parts ; but my
friend Mr. Hanson once saw one sitting on a fence
near my home. He watched it for awhile to see
whether the foster-parents would feed it. Presently a
Robin flew to the fence with a grub in her beak. The
young Cuckoo opened his beak to its fullest extent,
and the Robin then gave up the much wanted, food.
It was a ludicrous picture ; the Cuckoo seeming as if
he might swallow such a foster-mother ; while the
Robin on her part was apparently conscious that her
head might be endangered if care was not taken
while placing food in her hungry youthful protege's
mouth.

The Pied Wagtail, unlike other members of this
family, seems to like the company of man. Several
pairs breed in gardens round and about this
orchard, and also alongside the stream which flows
near. At all times the Pied Wagtail is a bird which
attacts attention by its graceful gait and manners.
They are an ornament to any garden which they
frequent for building ; and if left alone they will
return year after year to the loved and familiar
haunt. In the beautiful garden belonging to my
esteemed friend Mr. Gurlitt of Winchmore Hill a
pair of this species successfully rear two broods in
each successive spring. An ivy-covered arch spans
one of the pathways, and although within a yard
or two of the house, and bordering on a tennis court.

104 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

the birds are always quite at home. When people
are in the garden the elegant little creatures do not
heed them ; they run about on the lawns picking up
food almost at the feet of those who prize them.
I was able to get a good series of pictures of one
of the adult birds. As a rule, when they fed their

young they entered
the arch at quite a
different part from
w4iere the nest was,
and at first I thought
I should not be able
to get a photograph
of them. However,
I fixed a piece of
wood near the nest,
and soon after it
was up they settled
on it before feeding
their young. Both
seemed a little shy
of the camera and
operator at first, but when they saw that neither
would do them harm they would come near, and I
had very little time to wait before exposing a plate.

There are many birds which choose the ground for
a nesting site in the orchard. Blackbirds, Thrushes,
and Robins being among the number. It is not often

PIED WAGTAIL.

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SUMMER 105

that one of these succeeds, owing to labourers and
boys taking the eggs. A Robin did succeed in
hatching her eggs ; but when this was accompHshed
the ground was ploughed and all the young perished.
Sky-Larks try each year to rear a brood, and are more
successful than some other birds. I was the means of
saving one little nest full of young by bribing one
who very much wanted to take the young and sell
them. I made several attempts to photograph the
Lark while sitting, exposing five plates in three days,
only one, however, being satisfactory. Before I took
the photograph I placed a heap of weeds near the
nest and left it there some hours, and then hid the
camera underneath. I stayed in a tree, and waited
three hours : the Lark returned once, but seeing me
flew away before I could take a picture. On the next
day I again put the camera in position, and had one
hundred feet of pneumatic tube attached to the
shutter ; I then left the camera in hiding, and
returned a few hours later to release the shutter
on the chance of the bird being there. I had to
expose the plate from the length of the tubing distant
from the camera, and therefore could not see whether
the bird was on her nest. Still she was not sitting,
however, so that I changed the plate and returned
again later, and exposed another plate, but once more
she left just before the shutter was released. Thus I
had no success that day ; but tried again on the morrow

io6 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

in a similar way, with the result that another plate
was wasted. 1 found that while sitting the bird could
see me approach, and so left the nest before I reached
the pneumatic ball. Finally I put another plate in
the camera, and built a little wall of earth beyond the
nest, so that the Lark should not see my approach ;

SKY-LARK AT HOME.

and then, after a few hours, I again returned, and this
time was successful in getting a photograph which
well repaid all my trouble.

The Sky-Lark is one of our sweetest summer singers,
and is a little bird which we could not do without.
A meadow in springtime without a Lark would have
its crieatest charm missino;. I once watched two

«L -,-<fc, — - ' gSfe-itTS— -r- "w- .'a"!

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SUMMER 107

country yokels with guns. One of them had a large
ten-bore, the other a twelve-bore breechloader. A
Skylark rose near their feet, and began to soar above
them. Both fired their two barrels at the singing
bird ; and, although it was not thirty yards above
them, the singer escaped, and continued his song
through the hail of shot and loud reports.

During winter months flocks of Redpolls frequent
the orchard ; but these leave when spring comes
round. On May 21, 1899, I was delighted in find-
ing that a pair had built in the orchard. While
searching for nests, I found this very welcome one
in a pear tree, and, on climbing up to it, I was glad
indeed to see a Lesser Redpoll sitting in her beautiful
little home. She even allowed me almost to touch
her before she left, to disclose the five eggs. The
photograph shows what a charming nest this was.
It was built in some overhanging branches, being, as
it were, suspended by three drooping boughs. The
exterior was made of small twigs and grasses, the
inside being very neatly lined with willow catkins
and the finest hair. The five eggs were of a pale
greenish-blue ; two had no markings, the others having
one or two reddish-brown spots. Altogether this was
a choice nest, and although made by our smallest
Finch, it was nevertheless the prettiest nest I have
seen in this orchard. In the autumn and winter
Redpolls eat an enormous number of seeds of such

io8 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

troublesome plants to the farmer as the thistle, dan-
delion, groundsel, poppy, etc., etc. The winter habits
of these birds are described elsewhere.

This chapter would not be complete without men-
tion being made of the least of our British birds —
the Golden-crested Wren. I have never found a nest
in this neighbourhood myself, but have seen the birds
in the breeding season in such situations as left no
doubt that they were breeding near, and 1 was once
told of two nests within a mile of this orchard.

There is a certain part in the New Forest, unhappily
known to many collectors, where Goldcrests try to
breed each year. A walk more than a mile long
is bordered on each side by fir trees ; beyond these,
on each side, is an extensive piece of woodland. I
walked up one side and down the other of this
extended avenue, examined every tree, and began
to think my search would be fruitless ; when, at last,
I found a nest on the last tree but three from the
bottom. It was simply a matter of choice which side
I should start searching, and quite naturally the
wrong side was chosen. The photograph of this was
not a success, owing to a rather strong wind which
was blowing. The owners were very tame, and kept
near the nest while it was photographed.

At all times of the year the orchard is a favourite
hunting-ground for Goldcrests. When the leaves
are falling is the best time to see them, for then they

A SUBURBAN ORCHARD— SUMMER 109

are at their tamest. I have stood within a yard of
them and watched them 'digging' into the bark of
a fruit tree with their tiny beaks, after an insect. If
the grub is not got at quickly it seems to annoy the
operators, for they tap more rapidly, hop into a differ-
ent position, and erect at intervals the deep gold
feathers on their head ; and at length, when the food
is swallowed, they try another spot, and call zee-zee-zee,
as they fly to it. Besides this call-note, the Gold-
crest has a pleasing little song. One has to be close
to hear it, however ; for it is, as one would expect
from such a tiny songster, a slight, but still attractive
piece of music.

In early summer, although not so splendidly varied
in colour as in the spring, the orchard is none the less
delightful to a bird lover. When the songsters have
their nests is the best time for observing their ways,
and many a happy hour have I spent hiding among
bushes or trees to watch the habits of the feathered
inhabitants of this charming corner of North Middle-
sex. The orchard is well within the twelve-mile
radius of London ; but it still forms part of one of
the most delightful stretches of Old England. It is
part of the rural paradise which John Evelyn came
down from London to see in the days of Charles II.,
and where he found a tract of country measuring
twenty-five miles in circumference, and which then
contained onlv three houses.

VII
A Woodland Scene in June

THIS is one of the first days of summer, if
judged by warmth and sunshine ; and the
woodland bower in which I am sitting is mantled
with wild roses and winding bines of briony.
^^ As the soft breeze, which, as it were, adds fresh life
to the trees, sways their rustling branches, one may
see something new in the infinite blue expanse
above, and in the white cumulus clouds which float
eastwards now high up over the wood. A thousand
gleam.s of light penetrate the differently tinted
leaves, and seem to dance over the flower-strewn
carpet, forming a maze of glittering gold. Myriads
of swaying flowers also catch the sunbeams and
show a brighter lustre for a moment, and the light
then dances to the grasses.

Hidden among the herbage is a Willow-Warbler ;
she calls pu-i^ pu-i, and in a short time mounts
to the slender branch of a young beech. Pu-i,pii-i
she calls again, and flies on a little farther. There

A WOODLAND SCENE IN JUNE iii

is a rustling among the flowers, and an infant
Willow-Wren emerges, and for the first time in
its little life looks upon the beautiful woodland
home that the Creator has given to birds to fly
and roam about in at will. The young bird
gives a short whistle and then flutters to its
mother. Another rustle among the wild campion
and tangled brambles, and others struggle out —
seven in all.

The mother Warbler, with happy flutterings and
loving w^histles, gives them food, and presently her
mate descends from a tree-top and also feeds his
dependants. All the while, however, they attract
their young farther and farther away from their nest.
The little creatures, not being able to fly far, halt
after each short flight, and while so resting I
endeavoured to photograph them. Young Willow-
Wrens seem to have a strong objection to having
their picture taken, and prefer to hide in the thick
herbage below while a camera is near. However,
after waiting and keeping quiet, one Warbler, bolder
than the others, settled upon a twig, and I was able
to expose a plate. One of the old birds loudly
scolded the fledgeling for being so venturesome as
thus to show itself. If one can imagine expression
in a young Willow- Wren's eyes, let him suppose
the little creature to be looking as if quite ashamed
of itself for thus riskincr its life.

112 woobCand, field, and shore

When a picture had been taken, I caught one of
the young birds and carefully tied it to a small
branch and waited to see if its mother would feed
it, as I wished for a photograph of her doing so.
The parent kept flying round the captive, endeavour-

YOUNG WILLOW-WREN.

ing by all means in her power to induce it to fly ;
but the happy youngster kept on innocently
squeaking, and asking for food. By way of refresh-
ment I offered a few flies ; but the parents showed
such signs of distress and agony at the way I was
treating their little one, that I released it, so as to

A WOODLAND SCENE IN JUNE 113

allow it, if willing, to fly after them. This young
Warbler seemed to prefer my company, however,
and therefore continued to sit close to me and to
cheep at intervals.

From the trees above, and from the bushes beneath
and around, came a concert of fairy-like music.
The sweet air is filled with song. All the birds
are singing. Blackcaps are the loudest, they arc
everywhere, and their pure, wild notes seem perfectly
in harmony with the tangled and matted under-
growth, and the red and yellow flowers amongst
which their slender nests are hidden.

A plaintive see7is, seens now reaches me from a
tree near, and two . Tree-Creepers are seen running
up a trunk. One has a moth in its beak, and the
other watches me attentively. So close do they
come, and so plaintively do they call, that I think
their nest must be quite near. I walk a little farther
afield, and sure enough there is the nest, near to
where I was sitting, built between a piece of split
bark and the tree. For some minutes I watch them
while taking food to their young. How nimbly
they can ascend the trees, and patiently ' work ' at
a part where an insect is hidden. The Tree-Creeper,
as a rule, is always on the move ; but I once saw,
during a thunderstorm, how one could remain
perfectly still for about three minutes. It was on
the sheltered side of the tree, and perhaps it was

114 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

seeking shelter from the large drops, or it might
have been paralysed by fright when a great clap
of thunder just previously shook the wood. Some
birds certainly do not seem to know what to do

if startled by
sudden noise ;
others will not
even take much
notice of a gun
fired near them.
1 have seen Tits
unconcernedly
feeding during
the firing of a
gun quite close
to them.

On the edge
of a thick bush a
Garden - Warbler
has her nest, and
while leaving she
turned it half
over. Two of the
young fell out : one was killed, but the other had
fallen on somxC soft moss, and the parents were
feeding it. On my going near to pick up the
unfledged bird, and to put the nest straight, both
of the old birds became very restive and angry,

" — ■ — "■ 'Yr'*

--.-y^/^

•'' ■ • '*,

y,'?:

-g

fl -

■i.-*^'

'%J^i2"^

f/-

' -1

f- ,'

•

%' -iMJ^Ml^^ ■ '"''-

SITE OF TREE-CKEEPERS NEST.

A WOODLAND SCENE IN JUNE 115

showing their anxiety in many characteristic ways.
I replaced in the nest the young bird, and also
fastened the nest more securely, so that a disaster
should not happen again. Many birds when startled
while sitting will tip their nests over ; I have known
the VVhitethroat and Garden-Warbler to do so
several times. Three times during incubation have
I fastened a Garden-Warbler's nest in its position
because the sitting bird when leaving tipped it over.
Some of the eggs fell out and were broken, but one
young Warbler was successfully reared.

The scene in the wood at this best time of the
year, is one of tranquillity and enjoyment. Besides
the music of the birds the wood is merry with the
buzzing of thousands of insects. Over the flowers
a bright-coloured fly hovers for a few seconds, and
then disappears, but is seen again a few feet away.
Climbing slowly up a dead flower stem is an Orange-
tip butterfly, just emerged from its chrysalis. Its
wings are opened and closed several times, and then
it launches out on its new flitting life, to live among
the flowers. It is a real resurrection.

In the fir trees Pigeons coo softly one to the other,
and now and then one flies to the ground to search
for food. The majority go to the near-at-hand
orchards to feed on currants which are now ripening.
Turtle Doves piun- in the thick hedge at the end of
the wood, and a great clattering they make when

ii6 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

startled by my passing. Two Coal Tits are feeding
their young ; time after time they visit a hawthorn
bush where a good supply of insects is to be found.
Whatever time of the day we visit the woods we shall
always see the Tits busy. They must destroy an
enormous number of insects. The farmer who desires
to eet rid of destructive insects should encourage

;l-t (iut of t.

Titmice as much as possible. Market gardeners
would find it would pay them to place boxes with
a small hole in the side, in their fruit trees. If
once Titmice can be induced to breed amono- fruit
trees — where insects always abound— the pests will
very soon diminish.

On the woodland border stands an old-time shed,

A WOODLAND SCENE IN JUNE 117

rough but picturesque. A small hole has been made
in one of the tarred boards, and in that crevice
between the outside and the inner boards, a Blue-Tit
has reared her family. I gently pulled the board
away so as to
obtain a better
view of them,
and was sur-
prised to see
one of the old
birds crouch-
i n g in the
farther corner.
My attempting
to touch her
fledglings was
resented by
loud hissing
and by snap-
ping her beak,
so that she
really did all

YOUNG BLUE-TITS IN NEST.

in her power
to protect her brood. She was panting with fright
herself, but would not leave the nest. This shows
what loving care even a small bird can show for her
young. And so it is throughout Nature : however
small or insignificant the animal or bird may seem to

ii8 WOODLAND, PIELD, AND SHORE

us, if we take the trouble to watch their habits, there
will always be seen the presence of a more loving
nature than we may have previously noticed.

Wandering to a more distant part of the wood,
I come upon another scene. On one side rise the
majestic beeches : their great gnarled branches
stretching in all directions, and covered thickly
with leaves, hide the blue canopy above from
my eyes. A Nuthatch runs along a bough and
utters his whistle, tiiwit, and is then lost among
the waving arms of green. Woodpeckers call
and fly from beech to beech ; the loud cry of the
Yaffle or Green Woodpecker sounding among the
giant trees adds to the charming wildness of
the woods at this time. Very little vegetation
thrives in the shade of these trees ; I just catch sight
of a herd of deer scampering away, and when at a
safe distance they stop, turn round, and look at
me, sniff the air and then run on. Beyond the
beeches I reach the dusty road ; going down this a
little way we turn up a hill, and when at the top
a view of the wood can be seen.

A vast green expanse of all shades stretches before
me, and in the hollow nestles a small village. The
red-tiled roofs and white chimneys peep out from
among the trees, and away to the right stands a
disused windmill. The brown thatching of the old
stacks, and the new one, half finished, with the men

A WOODLAND SCENE IN JUNE 119

RED-AD.MIKAL BUTTEKFLY

at work on it, help to make the scene more homely.

Still farther, beyond

the hamlet, stretches

the wood, trees beyond

trees, green and fresh,

gently swaying in the

glorious sunlight ; and

then far beyond these,

dim, remote and blend-
ing in with the hazy

summer sky, lie a

chain of hills.

All of these sylvan

scenes make up a series of contrasts which are

charmingly beautiful ; the small hazy hills, the red

roofs of the villagers'
homes among the trees,
and the varied tints of
the latter, from fresh
green oak leaves to
the grey colour of the
willows near the farm-
house. These are
beautiful, it is true ;
but there is something
which adds a crreater

RED-AD.MIRAL AT REST. ^

charm to the whole
scene. In a thick bush on the hot roadside a

I20 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

Blackcap sings his wild notes, and a Chiffchaff
calls from a higher tree. Ring Doves fly swiftly
over the tree tops, and the air is filled w^ith the

best of harmony
— the music of
the birds. Down
the road flutters
a Red-admiral
Butterfly, it
settles on the
dust for a mo-
ment and then
flits on. A
rustling by the
roadside, and a
squirrel runs
out, crosses the
road and runs
up a tree, A
thousand -and -
one other little
incidents are al-
ways happening
in the countryside, and all make the woods more
than mere trees and flowers, grass and birds, and
the dry dusty roads more joyful.

* .

HUMBLE BEE ON THISTLE FLOWER.

VIII
Harvest-Time in Hertfordshire

I AM standing in the midst of golden-coloured
shocks of sheaves, for it is harvest-time in a
favourite county. The sun looks down on us in
glorious splendour from a sky of deepest blue ; his
hot rays are thrown on to the ripe corn, which
seems to reflect them and to increase the seasonable
warmth. How many tints of yellow are here !
yonder the deep copper of wheat contrasts with
the lighter silver- yellow of barley ; while oat straws
drooping modestly have their own peculiar hue. But
the tints change when a cloud glides up to shade
the sun ; the shadow is but for a few moments, the
scene again alters to what it was when the glistening
shadow-waves of gold played over the surface of
the fields.

Over the corn a Sparrow-Hawk is sailing ; a
Corn-Bunting flies from the wheat ; but the large
bird above makes an ominous movement, and the
Bunting, scenting an enemy, darts back to the shelter

122 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

of the corn, and remains there until the threatening
Hawk is far away.

The greensward of the sides of the otherwise
dusty Great North Road is one mass of blue. Field
scabious grows thick almost everywhere ; while the
prettier and more delicate harebell fills up spaces
where the former is more scant. Higher up on the
wayside bank a thick growth of yellow meets the eye
— bird's-foot trefoil grows here luxuriantly. If we
turn up the thick grass, this plant is still seen trailing
over the ground.

Leaving the high road, and taking a side turning
to the left, we pass through a hamlet consisting of
half a dozen white cottages and the inevitable beer-
shop. Round about the houses, and up and down
the narrow street, Martins are flying. Under the
eaves of the low dwellings they have their nests ;
and each time a bird returns with supplies two
little heads pop out of the nest and two eager
little beaks are opened wide, expectantly awaiting
their meal. Just beyond the hamlet is a way-
side pond with several Ducks lazily enjoying the
water, and ashore are two clamouring Geese
strutting about as if they were masters of land
and water alike. One cottage nestles amongst
a garden of fruits and flowers, and then we are
in a wild, lonely lane.

Hertfordshire lanes are of perennial interest to me.

HARVEST-TIME IN HERTS 123

I love them and never could tire of wandering
between their flowery hedgerows. Not only are
there flowers and birds here : the glorious sense of
wildness and liberty which they inspire charms and
stimulates. Take the scene now looked upon. Down
the gently sloping lane Swallows glide about, until
lost sight of round the curve. Two Pied Wagtails
fly up when startled by footfalls, and then again
settle farther afield. These are feeding on flies,
which are attracted by an abundance of flowers. But
the most delightful parts of the lane are the
hedges which bound it. These natural fences are
not the regular primly kept hedges of suburban
road sides ; they are real wild growths which look
as if they might be counterparts of hedges in
fairy tales.

Wild clematis hangs in festoons, and the lane on
each side is tinted white with the innumerable small
flowers. Here and there are pink and white blossoms
of the dewberry and blackberry. Some of the
berries are just turning from red to black. Where
the bushes are not hidden by clematis, nuts are
visible ; but these, like the blackberries, are still
unripe, and need two weeks more of this harvest
sun. Round the curve the scene again alters. Briony
takes the place of clematis for some distance, and
bunches of red berries hang in clusters. The road-
side sward is wider here, and red poppies outnumber

124 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

the harebells. Charlock and shepherd's purse also
flourish ; and Finches will have a good feed in
autumn when the plaintain seeds are ripe. Wild
parsnips thrive in the ditch, the yellow umbelliferous
flowers stand high above the grass, and in some
places nearly top the hedge. Some of the taller
plants are almost hidden by masses of wild' convol-
vulus, which in some places seems to threaten to
bind almost everything with its bonds, showing by
way of recompense beautiful white flowers.

The commonest birds here are undoubtedly Yellow
Hammers. Upon every tree, or higher part of the
hedge, one is to be seen unceasingly uttering its
song che-cJie-cJie-cJie-cJie-cJie-che-swee-e-e-tey. The banks
on each side of the road are the places in which the
Yellow Hammer loves to hide its nest ; and judging
by the number of young birds great numbers must
be reared. Now and then Whitethroats pop out of
the flower-covered roadside, hover a second to catch
a fly, and then disappear as silently as they came.
When summer was younger they caught insects in the
same manner, but then they uttered a short jerky
song as they fluttered over the hedge-top.

We leave the lane and enter a cornfield. A
reaping machine at work quickly makes the great
square of standing corn less and less. As the
machine passes along, a flock of Swallows follow,
some keeping quite near to the horses to pick up

HARVEST-TIME IN HERTS 125

flies which are roused from the ground ; but the
greater number fly backwards and forwards, just
over the windmill-like arms of the reaper, for there
they get insects which fly from the falling straw.

Narrow tracks, like miniature footpaths, wind about
amongst the standing wheat. These are made by
hares, and occasionally one dashes out, and bolts
across the field where the corn is cut ; for as the
area of standing straw becomes smaller, they make
their escape one by one, though many fall victims
to sportsmen, who are in waiting. Hares are different
from rabbits in this respect, for the latter, when in
a field which is being cut, crowd together until they
find themselves in the centre, and then when the
reaping machine gets close they all bolt together.
Several large and promising cove\'s of Partridges
rise as we pass along ; others are young and as yet
weak on the wing. We even discover a nest of
young just out of their eggs. What pretty fluffy
little birds they are ! — and although only just hatched
they are quite capable of looking after themselves ;
for they will run off in different directions to hide,
and in a very short time not one is to be seen.
The old birds do their level best to attract an
intruder away by interesting little dodges, such as
feigning lameness or a broken wing. Wood-Pigeons
frequent these corn-fields, and settling on the shocks,
they look like great birds as they rise ; for they are

126 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

so intent on procuring food as not to notice us until
quite near. With them are small flocks of Turtle
Doves, which in some respects are favoured birds ;
for many sportsmen consider it unlucky to shoot
them. What a good thing it would be for our rarest
birds if they were considered sacred — as indeed, in
this sense, they ought to be.

Where the corn has been cut for some days,
poppies spring up in great profusion ; certain fields
having the appearance of being carpeted with scarlet.
At some distance is a flock of Rooks eating corn ;
the shocks being surrounded by a sea of red poppies,
some of the birds being nearly concealed as they
search for grain among stubble and waning flowers.
Others stand on the sheaves and help themselves
plentifully. Suddenly there is a startling gun report
from that direction : the Rooks rise, cawing loudly,
and ascend in circles to a great height, and then
fly in straggling parties to another quarter. Dotted
about among the poppies are patches of veronica ;
this was in flower when the corn was young, and
its lovely blue petals will still win admiration. As
a harbinger of spring, the germander speedwell is
always gladly welcomed ; and when early autumn
tints the landscape with gold, it still flowers and
remains to see summer fade away.

Reaping is now generally done by machine ; one
or two farms, however, still use the more old-fashioned

HARVEST-TIME IN HERTS 127

hook or sickle. In one field on our left, reapers
can be seen at their labours in the hot sun ; and
though the work may look to be slow and easy,
any one who has tried it for a day would have
all doubts removed regarding its being very hard
task-work. A main part of the binding is now also
done by machine. As the reaping and binding
machine passes along, the ground is left perfectly
clear ; not a stalk of straw is seen lying among
the dry stubble. This is a great advantage to the
farmer ; but poor gleaners cry out against having
privileges curtailed which usage from time immemorial
has apparently established as a right.

Leaving the fields, we again take to the road, and
ascend a hill, on the summit of which another sylvan
scene is looked upon. It is now evening, and "the
golden-tressed sun," in his retinue of copper and
red clouds, slowly sinks behind hills covered with
ripe corn. There are two distinct rows of hills, and
beyond these a higher range. When the sun is
low down, and seeming, as it were, almost to touch
the ridges of the hills, a yellow efflorescence hides
the intervening country. The sun passes from view,
and the haze disappears, and we can discern more
perfectly the characteristics of the landscape. A
village lies amongst the trees towards the west ;
but a house or two and the church spire alone can
be seen. The musical tones of the bells of the church

128 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

clock can be faintly heard as their sound travels up
the hill-side. At the stroke of eight all harvest
workers leave the fields, and many pass up the hill.
Boys in charge of horses sing merrily as they home-
ward go, astride the great well-kept animals. The
procession of workpeople slowly files down the
opposite side of the hill until lost sight of in the
valley.

Twilight quickly comes on ; the breeze drops ;
perfect stillness seems to settle on the land, and a
blue mist rises over the more low-lying fields. This
is the time, however, fully to realise the charm and
beauty of Old Hertfordshire. Everything has
apparently yielded to evening calm ; we stand and
commune with Nature ; we are conscious of being
fascinated in a way it is impossible to describe.
Would that I could more often roam about these
wild lanes, lonely woods, and fruitful fields ! The
time spent in doing so always seems to be too short ;
the days fly by too quickly.

The fields and woods, as seen by day, are made
musical by the many voices and sounds of the
countryside. At night these are not heard ; but
still the meadows and dark figures of trees seem
to softly speak of things which belong alone to peace
and solitude. So do also the now dimly seen fields
of standing corn, or those where there are long rows
of wheat shocks. Above all this solitude there hangs

HARVEST-TIME IN HERTS 129

the still more mysteriously silent canopy of heaven,
tenanted with its thousands of stars. It is not until
we fix our eyes on these, that we realise the majesty
and greatness of Nature — the works of God.

Away yonder, over the darkening woodland, the
moon is rising, to shed another kind of light on
everything. Long shadows pass across road and
field ; the rows of wheat shocks are now made even
weird by their own stretching shadows thrown across
the stubble. But as the moon rises higher, a new
world seems to open to us. We see that, although
the country is so silent at night, it is nevertheless very
full of life. Not far away there is a hare : it stands
long to look at a human intruder ; but by remaining
perfectly motionless the animal gains confidence and
comes onward, passes through a gap in the hedge,
crosses the road, and enters a field of standing corn.
Any one who has wandered about the open country
at night will have noticed how lightly all birds and
animals sleep. Partridges are calling now, as they
were earlier in the evening, and ever and anon the
cry of a startled Lapwing comes from a neighbouring
field. A dark form slinks along in the shadow of a
hedge. When closer, this is seen to be a fox ; he has
something in his mouth. A slight movement brings
Reynard to a stand ; but only for a moment, for,
without hesitation, he turns and seems to fade away
in the shade beyond. Some rabbits are playing in

I30 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

the moonlight ; their white scuts are just visible as
they skip about. A loud hissing is heard above ;
and, looking up, a White Owl is seen to enter a corn-
field, and slowly 'beat' between the rows of sheaves,
and at last it settles to wait a long time for its prey.
Although light is dim, we can just see the Owl.
Then suddenly there is a rapid movement ; he settles
on the ground ; there is a loud, sharp, short squeak,
followed by an ominous fluttering, and the Barn-Owl
flies away with his prey.

IX
Late September in Dorsetshire

THE sighing wind, as it plays among trees and
hedges in the valley, rises to the green
hill-tops in a musical undertone. On the hills the
pines receive the fitful autumn breeze and pass it
on to where it searches all parts of the beech wood
still higher up, causing squirrels to pause every now
and then in their scamper over the still leafy
branches. A large flock of Sea-gulls feeding in
a newly ploughed field lazily rise when they see
an intruder, and slowdy fly to ground a little farther
on. Linnets twitter from the hedges, which have
a heavy crop of very fine luscious ripe blackberries.
No one need travel hungry in these Dorsetshire
lanes during the latter half of September, for
bushes are overladen with quantities of fruit, w-hich
in the main goes to waste, although many a town
housewife would be glad to have some of the spoil
for winter use.

Three Goldfinches fly past and settle on a hedge

132 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

lower down ; a few liquid notes are uttered, and they
flutter onward. Nuts hang in bushes on the hazel
stems, and sloes diversify the hedgerow in places with
their purple-blue tint. Clouded-yellow butterflies fly
on before along the lane, accompanied by Painted-

TORTOISESHELL BUTTERFLY.

ladies, Tortoiseshells, Red-admirals, and Blues. Round
and about a rick-yard by the roadside, a covey of
Partridges are feeding ; they rise altogether, their loud
flight scaring a company of Peewits. In this out-of-
the-way West country the stacks of corn are built
in or near the fields where it grew, and not close to

LATE SEPTEMBER IN DORSET 133

the homestead, as is the case on smaller farms. In
different parts of the vast landscape, as seen from our
commanding coign, rows of golden-coloured ricks
can be descried, some of them containing seven or
eight stacks. Partridges dearly love to feed about
these ricks, and nearly every one we pass seems to
have its covey.

The roadsides are lined with drifted thistledown
and 'old man's beard ' from the wild clematis. The
effect from a short distance is as if the greensward
was covered with hoar-frost. Some of the spots in
the fruit-laden hedges are white with snowberries, and
although it is quite a hot day, in places one might
imagine we were looking on a winter scene. Over-
head floating stars of brightest silver are drifting
along, these being thistle seeds on their travels ; some
are high aloft, others low down. Most, if not all, of
these have come from the other side of the valley,
thus showing what a long distance, seed from a thistle
will travel. The highest seem as if they might drift
for hours, and it would be no exaggeration to say
that many seeds grown in one county will find their
growing site in another many miles away.

On the thatched roof of what was once a dwelling-
house, but is now a broken-down shanty, there sits a
Yellow Wagtail ; he darts hither and thither and all
over the thatch, picking up flies as quickly as thought ;
sometimes he ' hawks ' for them in the air, turning all

134 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

sorts of queer somersaults before he returns to the
thatch. Then a Spotted Flycatcher, which has
nested near, considers that this old house is his own
preserve ; but he does not seem to object to the
Wagtail's presence, providing this interloper docs not
approach too closely. When another Flycatcher
settles on the roof, however, he is immediately
attacked by the other. Flycatchers fight in an
interesting manner ; one does not do much damage
to its opponent ; each combatant rather contents
itself by raising its wings above its back to their
fullest extent, and uttering a few angry notes of
defiance. Time after time this intruding Flycatcher
flies to the roof, but is always driven away by the
one in possession.

A Red-admiral Butterfly floats along the hcdgeside,
and while admiring its graceful, buoyant flight, I hear
a Redshank calling. Thinking it rather strange to
hear such a bird on a high hill, I tried to discover its
whereabouts. Although the cry tJieu-li tJieu-li
continued, I could not see a Redshank ; but at last I
spied a Starling on the roof of a barn : it was this
bird giving forth this mimic call, the notes being
so perfectly given that they thoroughly deceived me.
The Starling can repeat any notes of other birds.
I have heard them imitating the Swallows' song
among many others ; but the most curious example
I ever met with was one which frequented a wood at

^"S--

-^ >>>' %

STARLING S XEST.

136 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

Winchmore Hill, and which used actually to quack.
There were some Ducks which had strayed on to a
stream near, and this entertaining Starling, evidently
thinking that their language was too attractive to be
quite ignored, took up the notes quickly and correctly.
As I reach the hill-top, the greensward on the
roadside gradually widens until the whole road is
covered with grass ; so that what was once a
frequented road is now a green track a little worn
by farm waggons. A few harebells stand among
the long grass ; their pretty blue bell-shaped flowers
nod to the passing breeze. Harts-tongue ferns grow
in abundance on banks below the hedges. Field
scabious and red campion are seen in what was
once the high road ; both of these plants are small
and stunted, some of the former stand only two
inches high. Among the blackberries are many
flowers, the ripe fruit and blossoms in some cases
being on one stem together. A gate across the
road stops further progress in this direction. Beyond
is a large meadow containing a flock of sheep. A
Magpie flies across the field from one copse to
another, and a Jay follows in his path. A great
flock of Starlings suddenly rise from different parts ;
but all of these at once congregate together. Then
they perform those strange evolutions peculiar to
this species. No drilled army could excel them in
the beauty of their combined movements. A flight

LATE SEPTEMBER IN DORSET 137

forward is made, then a sudden turn to the right,
the manoeuvre being executed so exactly in point
of time-keeping, that only a very thin line is seen.
Now they look like a compact square as they dash
upwards, and again some wonderful turns and twists
are performed, each bird doing his part as perfectly
as though it had enjoyed years of training. In the
middle of one exercise it seems as if a sudden word
of command was given, for instantly the whole flock
opens out in extended order and drops down to
the ground, some settling — the majority, however,
preferring to rest on the backs of the sheep. These
marvellous evolutions are to me one of the most
striking phenomena of the bird world.

Retracing my steps and taking a side turning,
the valley is reached, and another and much higher
hill is on ahead. After a long but interesting climb,
I find myself on the summit, the view being one
which well repays for any toil in climbing. Far
away in the south, almost hidden by haze, lies the
town of Dorchester. It looks like a small village
among the trees ; while real villages look like mere
dots in the wide extending landscape. A white
patch gleams in the sun in the east, and through
a field-glass this turns out to be the white cliffs of
the Hampshire coast, although the sea-line cannot
be distinguished, being blended with the sky. The
smoke of a steamer far out at sea can be seen.

138 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

Looking across several lower hills and neighbouring
valleys, the tops of the Somersetshire Quantock hills
can be discerned, while in another direction a part
of Devonshire shows itself between two hills. Thus
we can gaze into four of the most beautiful of English
counties from this hill, — truly a magnificent view !

'--

.- '%-'\--;a'--... -■

■ __

^jJ^^BL > iHb

^a.

jJHhH

H^^HH

^^^^HK

I^^^IH^^H

^^^^^|e '^

.g\: .'iiMBHBiMI

^HHHH

ZSH

-DORSETSHIRE.

I spoke to a rustic on the beauty of the scene, and
was struck with his reply : ' Well, zir, there ain't
much to zee hereabouts, nawthin' 'cept rabbits.'
This also proves that familiarity breeds contempt.

Again descending the hill I enter a valley contain-
ing a long, straggling village. The thatched barns
and cottages give splendid nesting-sites for Swifts.

LATE SEPTEMBER IN DORSET 139

Although these birds have now left the village for
their southern homes, many of their old nests can
be found, and I was told that great numbers breed
thereabouts. House-Martins on some of the cottages
still had young birds in their nests (September 23rd).
This seemed rem.arkably late, yet there were many
nests with young that looked as though they had
not long been hatched.

Most of the cottages are built on one side of the
road only. For some distance a steep bank rises
from the roadway, and Sand-Martins' old nesting-
holes are here and there bored into the sand slope.
My photograph was obtained in the New Forest,
where there are several very fine retreats suitable
for these birds. In the picture only a small part of
the sand cliff shows ; but there must have been
over a thousand holes tenanted by Sand-Martins,
in addition to many occupied by Sparrows and
Starlings. When I visited this colony most of the
birds had young, and it was a busy scene that I
looked upon. Hundreds and hundreds of Sand-
Martins were flying overhead, carrying food to their
nests; it seemed remarkable how they knew their
respective holes. With their harsh twittering, and
the whistling Stai-lings and chattering Sparrows,
there was a deal of bird-talk to be heard.

To return to Dorsetshire. Over the valley a flock
of Swallows and Martins is flying. Before leaving

I40 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

this country the old birds and their young flock
together and perform many aerial evolutions. They
often settle on the single telegraph wire ; there must
be over a hundred in a row ; some are preening their
feathers ; the younger birds seem to have a difficulty
in keeping their balance.

« *

» ." ~ ' n r '

•>. - rj. .. ♦ >

" -•

::■ ^^ - ,j:_-. ; .... . . . L_ -3^.

SAND-MARTINS NESTING-HOLES.

This part of the country is rich in Roman earth-
works, especially round Dorchester. The ' old
folks' ' works, some of the natives call them. I was
standing on one of these ancient mounds on the
summit of a hill near Dorchester in the quiet autumn
evening. After sunset flock after flock of Lapwings

LATE SEPTEMBER IN DORSET 141

passed overhead ; the light was so deceiving that
the birds looked as large as Herons, and indeed
I thought they were such at first sight. Over the
glowing western sky a great flock of Starlings
were performing their w'onderful manoeuvres.

In the great plain and valley below^ three villages
could be seen. Cows and sheep w^ere grazing in the
fresh-looking meadows alongside the winding river
Frome. The cattle appeared to be no larger than
ants as they wandered about. Now and then the
bleating of a sheep came faintly from the hillside.
And so the daylight faded, the river resembling a
streak of silver shining from amongst its dark
surroundings. But even evening and night are
cheerful when we homeward go with sunny memories
of a day spent with wild Nature in the beautiful
West.

Autumn in Bird-Land

DEAD leaves strew the ground on all sides,
making a yellow carpet, reminding one as
they come down that summer does not die without
leaving a still beautiful reminder of her late
ascendency. All the trees of the wood seem as if
they were making one supreme united effort to
rival the charm of past and fresher seasons of the
circling year by giving one gorgeous many-tinted
display before they finally part with their now dying
foliage. It is as if the beauty of summer's dress were
concentrated in each small leaf, — yet here are millions,
and each one is a varied coloured gem. Each tree is
a Nature picture painted with delicate tints of russet,
red and yellow, and here and there spotted with the
addition of deep crimson. No human artist's pencil
could adequately depict this outlook. The half-bare
branches speak of past sunny days ; they revive
memories of summer and of the still brighter days
of spring.

AUTUMN IN BIRD-LAND 143

How much has happened in this wood since these
faUing leaves first opened to the beams of spring
sunshine ! Seeds have germinated and brought forth
flowers, and these in their turn have produced seeds
which are now hidden under decaying foliage where
they will rest until that mysterious life resurrection
again takes place. Birds have come from foreign
lands ; they have made their nests, reared their
young, and have returned with these across those
thousands of miles which separate their summer
home and their winter retreat. Millions of insects
have passed through their prescribed stages, have
done their part in life and passed away. Each tree,
bush, as well as every square yard of ground, has
been a world in itself, and a home for countless tiny
creatures. Myriads of insects are now searching for
warm or sheltered places in which to pass the winter
months while in that mysterious state we call
hibernation. Thousands more will sleep in the
chrysalis state until the landscape is again dressed
in its mantle of green, and the warmer days and
sunshine of spring transform a sleeping world into
one of active life and wonderful beauty.

Wherever we may now turn in the wood, we come
upon a bush or a tree which seems to be more
variously coloured than those around. Of certain
individual examples it is difficult to tell which is the
most beautiful. For delicacy of tints I think the

144 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

elms more than hold their own ; but these are of one
colour only — a pale yellow. Birches are the most
pleasing to look upon ; for among their changing
leaves we seem to see the three seasons reflected.
There are, as it were, the fresh green tints of spring ;
the darker green of summer ; the gold russet or
bronze of autumn.

Standing out here and there are one or two small
clumps showing the deepest possible golden hues.
Some of the larger birches were cut down, leaving
the roots in the ground, and numerous offshoots
have appeared on these stumps, the leaves being of
the richest colour in the wood. Acorns, and especially
oak leaves, strew every part of the ground ; and it
is impossible for any bird to hop about without
being heard. Perfect stillness reigns among the
trees ; not a leaf moves on the boughs, some are
shaken down by birds. One can even tell where
the birds are by falling leaves. Titmice searching
for food also cause many to fall ; and when a larger
bird settles in a tree its weight may cause quite a
little shower of leaves to come down, to float
slowly away and then to settle and help to cover
the woodland path.

Occasionally it seems as if footsteps are approaching;
but this rustling is caused by Blackbirds moving
about under bushes, where they scratch the leaves
away, clear a space, and then pick up insects. I have

AUTUMN IN BIRD-LAND 145

seen a Coal Tit acting in a similar manner; but
instead of scratching, each leaf was removed with its
beak until a space was cleared, and after completing
this rather tedious work for such a small bird, it fed
on insects which had been in hiding underneath.
Cock Blackbirds repeatedly leave the shelter of
bushes and bring their numerous followers into the
open spaces ; several hens sometimes follow their
mates, and the latter look well after their lighter
coloured companions, and if needful they will fight
to protect them. When almost dark we still hear
them in the hedgerows q.2^\x\^ pick-pick to each other ;
and if disturbed, they will utter their loud alarm
notes, without flying away, as they do when it is
lighter.

The bracken still affords shelter for rabbits, which
will lie until almost trodden upon, but will then dash
out and hie away at full speed. The tall fern-like
leaves are many-coloured, making up a picture of
beauty that defies description ; dark and light green,
gold, russet, and white, pale yellow, and red, all
blend together and form one soft harmonious whole.
The eye cannot long confine itself to one single spot ;
w^e have to look at the scene as a whole, with the
exception of places here and there, where a tall plant
stands out which is of a deeper bronze or a more
striking crimson. Beyond the bracken is the moor,
covered with purple heather. It is relieved by a

146 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

yellow tree here, and three russet-garbed oaks
yonder, and then is interspread with patches of
lovely bracken.

Peewits are flying low and settling beyond the
furze bushes. A Snipe rises at my feet and darts
away, and presently is out of sight. Above, a Lark
sings his simple but sweet song. What a glorious
landscape all of this must appear to be from his lofty
point of view ! no wonder, therefore, that he sings !
The notes are not so loud as they were in the spring ;
and although he is at no great height, they are not
very distinct. A Magpie leaves the wood and ' drops '
across to the oaks, ' chucking ' as he flies. Cock
Pheasants are calling defiantly, and from the heather
the notes of a solitary Partridge that has escaped
the guns can also be heard.

In the wood there is suddenly a great commotion.
Two squirrels are playing among the trees. They
do not see me, and I am able to get closer, and then,
while in hiding, I wait and watch their gymnastic
exercises. They are in a pine tree ; one is on each
side of the stout trunk clinging to the wood about
a yard from the ground. Each is in a state of
expectant excitement, and often peeps round to see
whether its playmate is visible. One moves its tail,
the other sees the movement, and rushes round the
tree, but does not succeed in catching it. Round
and round they go, tearing off pieces of bark in their

AUTUMN IN BIRD-LAND 147

wild scamper ; then they rush up one side of the
tree and down the other. One then runs along the
ground, frisks about, and still eludes its playmate ;
then again he runs up the tree and waits, looking
down at the other below. For a moment the latter
seems to wonder where the other may be ; but
suddenly seeing it, he leaps on to the tree and nearly
succeeds in catching the one aloft. Again both
return to the ground, and roll over and over in
playful ardour, and then again rush up the trunk,
their tails seeming to float behind them as they leap
from branch to branch. A Starling settles near, but
takes no notice of these interesting frolics. And so
the squirrels keep on until I move, the effect being
almost magical. Casting just a glance in my direction,
they both hasten up the tree, run along the topmost
branches, leap to the next tree, and so on until I can
see them disappearing along their leafy pathway.

So silent is the wood after this seasonable perform-
ance that the leaves can be heard rustling as they
fall. A heavy dew is settling on everything ; drops
of water hang on the leaves, and slowly dropping
they cause other leaves to fall. Several holly bushes
stand in a distant corner, and hundreds of Sparrows
have chosen this for their roosting place, and as each
one is cJieeping, the noise is deafening for a short time.

When the yellow light from the setting sun gives
place to dull grey twilight. Sparrows cease their calls,

t4B WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

and the brown Wren utters his last rattling song.
Then it is that silence reigns over woodland and
moor alike. Not the more cheerful hush of an
evening in spring, but rather a sad, cold stillness,
more in keeping with a dying day of the shortening
year. It is also quite different from the silence of
a summer evening, when Nature seems to be lightly
sleeping. Everything around is now grey ; night's
ghostly shadows creep on to envelope the coloured
landscape of day in a more sombre mantle. At last
deathlike silence hangs about the trees, and the drop
of a falling acorn is startling. Everything seems
dead ; Nature is waiting for a revival.

A few more days pass and the trees are altogether
bare. The bracken has lost its beauty ; the woodland
floor is deeply strewn with rotting leaves. The cold
north wind comes through the naked branches.
Later in the evening a flake of snow falls, and a
few minutes later this harbinger of winter is followed
by others. A lonely Robin heralds the approaching
harder times with a few plaintive notes — an apology
for a song — and memories of golden autumn seem to
fade away with his strain. For the time being more
sunny seasons seem to lie buried under the snow
which now covers the ground.

XI
Birds in the Snow

IN some respects the best time of the, circling year
for observing and photographing certain kinds
of birds is when the ground is covered with a mantle
of snow. Hunger subdues the wildest of animals
into tameness, and this is especially true of the
feathered tribes. By using due caution, in hard
weather a field naturalist can closely approach even
such a wary bird as the Carrion-Crow or Kestrel ;
while others more sociable, such as Robins, will even
come to the open window, or actually feed from
one's hand.

During the winter of' 1899-1900, I gave much
attention to photographing birds in the snow ; I
obtained many pictures and watched the birds' habits
in what were their hard times. There is fascinating
interest in taking careful notice of these wild birds
in their homes, and in observing what I call their
manners and customs, especially when the little
creatures themselves are not conscious that they are

149

ISO WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

being watched. When a bird knows of our presence,
it always behaves differently from what would be

the case if no one was near ; so that when naturalists
or others take their ornithological notes, or notice

BIRDS IN THE SNOW 151

the habits of any wild creature, I always think that
they should be unobserved, otherwise the behaviour
of the bird or wild animal is not natural, and does
not correctly show their everyday habits. Of course
this remark applies to the camera ; and sometimes
there is considerable difficulty in concealing from a
bird such a formidable-looking machine. Most of
the pictures accompanying this chapter were obtained
in a suburban garden within the London ten-mile
radius. In one corner of the grounds was a quantity
of rubbish, bricks, pieces of wood, etc., and the camera
was hidden underneath, the whole being then covered
with a la}'er of frozen snow. The small opening
left for the lens was a matter of some disquietude
to a Robin, which would sit on the covering carefully
to examine it before venturing to touch the food,
which was placed near to attract such unsuspecting
visitors.

Of all outdoor winter friends Robins are perhaps
the most interesting. They are very pugnacious,
and when winter quarters are chosen, which usually
will be a garden, they fight desperately with others
of their own species which may dare to intrude into
the chosen domain, and will at times even drive away
birds larger than themselves. It was exceedingly
amusing to watch one little monarch of the garden,
as he might have been called, whose delight was
to eat all the food he could, and then to perch on

152 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

some prominent object and survey the grounds.
Any other birds that approached would be angrily
driven away ; the only intruders which dared to
dispute his sway were some Starlings ; and when
these came down in force their quarrelsome chattering
evidently frightened Cock-Robin. This Redbreast

\I.L HE SL'KVEVS.

gave about as good an illustration of greediness as
it would be possible to find in the bird world. When
he had eaten all he could, he would remain on the
spot to prevent other hungry birds from touching
the food that remained. In the picture taken, he
will be seen on a mound of snow thus on guard.
Another Robin would approach, sit for a time on

BIRDS IN THE SNOW 153

a fence and call plaintively. If the other saw this
trespasser he would be on the alert, and sometimes
would actually hide in a thick evergreen hedge, so
that just as the hungry one was on the point of taking
a piece of bread, the other would make a dash and
drive him far from the garden.

One morning I put my camera in position and
focussed a dead branch, on which a piece of fat
was fastened in hope of attracting Titmice. I was
making an attempt to photograph a Great-Tit, but
had this vicious Robin to contend with, and feared
he would baffle my endeavours. He would insist
on sitting on the bi-anch to guard the food, of which
he had himself eaten his fill. Another Robin in a
neighbouring tree had been watching its greedy
relation for some few minutes, and at last this one
made a bold move, first settling higher up on the
branch. I squeezed the pneumatic ball and released
the shutter just at the right moment ; and thus
readers will be able to see these two Robins in a
very characteristic attitude, — each, as it were, pausing
for a moment and taking stock of its antagonist
before actually coming to blows. I was only just
in time, however, for they were instantly inextricably
mixed up, and it seemed as if their duel would be
a fight to the death. I could not find out which
came off as victor ; for they both left the garden
still fighting ; but in due time one of the combatants

■JBLIC ,

BIRDS IN THE SNOW 155

reappeared, and, as became him, very much subdued
by such a tragic adventure.

Not long after the above little incident I saw
two Robins in a road, each sitting on a fence.
Their feathers were ruffled, and both appeared to
be cold and hungry. I threw a small piece of meat
on to the ground to see what the result would be.
The whole appearance of both birds immediately
changed ; both flew to the food, which, however,
neither dared to touch, and there they stood, with
heads bent down and wings slightly opened, in
an attitude of defiance, every few seconds each
uttering a short cry — seejis, sceiis. It was a suggestive
picture, these two pugnacious little creatures, one
facing the other in a fighting attitude ; each daring
its opponent to touch the food. They did not seem
to take the slightest notice of me, so intent were
they on their prize ; and it was not until I almost
touched them that they flew away. I picked up
the meat and put it down again in two pieces, when
each bird pounced upon its share and carried it
off well satisfied. I have seen Robins fighting
furiously in a large snow-covered field for no
apparent reason except jealousy of one finding
better supplies than the other.

Other frequent visitors to the garden were Titmice.
I had some difficulty in obtaining photographs of
these, owing to the fighting Robin ; but there were

GREAT TIT.

■R^^

BIRDS IN THE SNOW 157

times when he was away. Once a Great Tit boldly-
attacked him, and drove him from the ground, so that
I got a picture of the Tit sitting on the topmost
point of the dead branch. In the photograph the
Great Tit appears to be quiet and contented ; but
this does not do it justice, for Tits are always on
the move, and some of their attitudes, when feeding,
are very interesting. They will hang head down-
wards, or in any position that is most convenient for
them while feeding.

In the woods in winter large parties of Titmice are
seen all industriously ' working ' the under branches
of trees. The Blue Tit is the commonest ; and any
one living near a wood or orchard can attract these
pretty birds by hanging a piece of fat in a tree. If
the food is hung by a piece of string so much the
better ; for then one will be enabled to see the
curious actions of Titmice in perfection : as the food
sways with their weight we are entertained by all
kinds of gymnastic feats. It sometimes happens that
dead birds are found in the winter, literally starved
to death ; if one of these is placed near the Blue Tits
it will be seen what little cannibals they are. With-
out much ceremony they commence to make a hole
in the dead bird's skull ; and then, when that is done,
they eat the brains.

As soon as the food was placed in the garden, hosts
of Sparrows, Starlings, and Finches, would become

158 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

attracted. I selected meat bones for Starlings, — these
kept these noisy birds fully employed, so that other
smaller birds had a chance. In great contrast to
Robins were the Hedge-Sparrows. These are at all
times of a quiet and unobtrusive turn, and although,
no doubt, as hungry as their bolder companions, they
would wait until all others had finished, and then
content themselves by picking up any tiny crumbs
left behind.

Starlings are always quarrelsome among themselves,
whether in winter snow or summer sunshine. As
soon as one succeeded in pulling a piece of meat
from a bone others less fortunate would fight for
it. Their manner of fighting is extremely curious ;
for as soon as one is attacked it mounts about
a foot above ground, the other does the same, and
then both ' spar ' at each other in the air. When
a flock of Starlings is in a meadow, every now and
then two will be seen harmlessly pecking at each
other in this way. Starlings — which, by the way,
are the best friends of the farmer — suffer more
than others in a severe winter. Grubs and worms,
which they feed on, are not to be found, and
hundreds inevitably perish. I have found them
dead at such times, and have even seen one fall
while flying, to die of exhaustion brought on by
hunger.

Sparrows were the most numerous of my feathered

BIRDS IN THE SNOW

159

visitors in the snow-covered garden. There must
have been at least a hundred at times ; and they
very quickly devoured all the supplies which I placed
for them. Blackbirds were the shyest ; it was very
seldom that one would show itself; they kept in the
shadow of a hedge, and only ran out to snatch up

BLACKBIRD (hE\).

a piece of food now and then. By waiting many
hours I was at last able to expose a plate on a hen ;
her mate, however, kept in the hedge, and towards
evening, when it was becoming almost too dark for
photography, he flew out, just settled on the food
tied on to the branch on which he was sitting and
then quickly returned to the hedge. A cock Black-

i6o WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

bird, when in the snow, is really a handsome bird ;
his brilliant sable plumage is shown off to the very-
best advantage. I tried many dodges to allure one
out from the hedge to photograph him in the snow,

but was not
successful.
The most
troublesome
'sitters' of
all were
Thrushes.
There were
plenty of
them, but
they behaved
somewhat
after the
manner of the
Robins. If
one was feed-
ing it would
drive others
away ; but it
nearly always happened that the one engaged in
feeding would always keep just out of the part
focussed. I did manage to expose one plate — to
obtain only half the bird, however ; but as this is
somewhat unique as a photograph it is reproduced

BLACKBIRD (mALe).

BIRDS IN THE SNOW. i6i

here. The food which the hungry bird is swallowing
can just be seen disappearing down the wide-opened
beak. It is to be regretted that the whole bird
does not show, but this was my only chance of
getting a picture of a Thrush.

In the evenings, when smaller birds had retired to
roost, an Owl visited the garden. It would hover in
front of the ivy covering the house, until it heard
a movement of one of the sleeping Sparrows. To
judge by the number of times this Owl entered the
ivy, he must have found this mode of getting food
very successful. I tried for a photograph by
flashlight, but did not succeed.

It is a matter for wonder to many people whither
the birds of the woods and fields go during winter.
They are still to be seen by the diligent observer.
A thick hedgerow at the side of a wood
or deep ditch will harbour a large
number of birds ; Partridges*
Aloor-hens, Blackbirds, and
many others can be seen

r searching for food among
dead leaves. The
snow round about
f . • . ^ oak trees, if not
'-\ '. -. *'''W-"*f*^ - too deep, will be
^^^ found to be

SONG THRLSH FEEDING. SCratCneU

1 1

i62 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

away by hungry Rooks and Pigeons in the hope of
finding stray acorns. Smaller birds such as Wrens,
Goldcrests, and Titmice keep to the thick shelter of
fir trees. P'inches resort to a stream-side or railway
embankment, and live on seeds of such dead plants
as show above the snow\ Pollarded willows will
also be well worked by Tree-Creepers and other

insect-feeding
birds.

Those who wan-
der about the
country lanes and
woods throughout
the year will no-
tice what affection
birds have for their
homes. By their
homes I mean the
immediate neigh-
bourhood in which

*S^

lifAy

\:/--ag&i».*

lOOR-HENS FEEDING IN A SNOW-
COVERED MEADOW.

they first had their
nest. Hedge-Sparrows in the coldest weather will
still be seen where they were in the brighter days
of spring. Robins that have bred far from an
inhabited dwelling stay near their breeding-haunts
all through the coldest weather of winter. Perhaps
the greatest affection for their special haunts is seen
in our larger birds. Carrion-Crows will remain in

BIRDS IN THE SNOW,

163

the wood they have chosen for their home although
greatly persecuted. It is the young birds of the year

SPARROWS.

that come in such great numbers to the houses in the
hard times of winter.

Although in a severe winter a large number of the
feathered tribes perish, one seldom sees a dead bird.

i64 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

For the most part, when death is drawing near,
animals will hide themselves in some out-of-lhe-way
spot. Hundreds of little lives could be saved in hard
winter weather if people would only feed them more.

A little food goes a
long way even with
hungry birds. A few
meat bones, pieces
of fat, bread-crumbs,
and other things,
which would other-
wise be wasted, will,
if placed in a garden
— no matter how
near a city or large
town — quickly at-
tract a number of
interesting famishing

feathered

visitors

MUOK-HEN IN THE SNOW,

will give a

which

bird lover genuine entertainment, while he will have
the satisfaction, not only of having done an act of
true charity, but of having saved lives of birds which
will repay a hundredfold when summer warmth and
sunshine return.

XII
A Middlesex Copse

ON the border of that fine stretch of Old England
— Enfield Chase — there is a small copse which
is both picturesque and attractive. It is bounded on
all sides by gently undulating country, well wooded
and fruitful, although as land it may not be of the
richest. From the ridge above the copse an ex-
tensive view is obtained stretching towards Epping
Forest, over part of Middlesex, into Hertfordshire,
Buckinghamshire, and Berkshire ; and in clear weather
it is said that the Kent hills can be seen.

This small woodside copse is held sacred by one
or two ornithologists owing to the fact that Gold-
finches breed there. Summer is well in ^ July having
commenced — when I find myself with my camera
roaming amongst its leafy seclusion. Here and there
are small open spaces with quantities of dead wood
lying on the ground, which is half covered by trailing
brambles and decayed leaves. Tall hollyhocks are
everywhere dotted about, like spires of red towering

i66 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

over the lower bushes ; and in places there are large
groups of these pretty plants, no two being of the
same height, but all are covered thickly at the
bottom with red cone-shaped flowers, while the tops
taper gradually off into buds. The undergrowth
in places is so thick, that it is with difficulty seen
into, while it is impossible to make way through
it. Whitethroats are dodging above these thick
parts, and their young are no doubt in hiding
in them. Garden-Warblers are singing engagingly
from several bushes, and although July is the silent
month as regards the wild woodlands, many birds
have not yet ceased to give forth their notes.
When another fortnight has passed there will hardly
be a bird's song to be heard ; even the Sky-Lark
will then be silent.

Turtle Doves are piirrvig from the thickest corner
of the copse, and a careful search reveals one of
their nests containing two fledgelings ; also a Wood-
Pigeon's containing two eggs ; and a Bullfinch's, all
within a very small radius. After much trouble I
was able to get a photograph of the Wood-Pigeon's
by climbing a tree near and lashing my camera to
the trunk. In this way a very good view of the nest
could be obtained ; but owing to the swaying of the
tree only a very short exposure could be given. One
needs to be very cautious when photographing Turtle
Doves' nests, as the birds will desert their eggs or

A MIDDLESEX COPSE 167

young on the slightest provocation. ]\Iy friend Mr.
R. B. Lodge, who was with me on this occasion,
has known them to leave their young to die of
starvation simply through being frightened from
their nest containing the brood. The Turtle Dove
is the onlv bird which will desert its youno; in this

WOUD-PIGEON S NEST.

way, so far as my experience goes. I succeeded,
after the exercise of much patience, in securing
a picture of two fluff}' \'oungsters, without either of
the parent birds knowing of my presence. Pigeons,
when collecting food for their young, will often be
far away from their nest for more than an hour at
a time ; and there is a good opportunity to photo-
graph the young during such an interval.

i68 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

In a small copse one often comes upon several
species of birds happily breeding in proximity to
each other. Pigeons and Finches in this corner are
living peacefully, and there are signs of young from
other nests having been reared. In a boathouse
in Norfolk I once found a number of Swallows'
nests ; there was a Wren not far away, and I was
anxious to discover whether" he had a nest near
the Swallows. On searching, one was seen to be
actually built inside a Swallow's nest ; the mud used
by the Swallow formed the foundation, and over
this the Wren had placed a dome of moss, and so
had formed a ver}^ comfortable home with only half
her usual labour.

Each succeeding year a pair of Nightjars breed
in this small wood. We searched in the open spaces
hoping to find the sitting bird ; but as she exactly
resembles a piece of decaying or dead wood, this
was no easy matter, as dead leaves and pieces of
wood were everywhere about. At last, when one
of us had our foot nearly on the bird, I discovered
her sitting flat on the ground in the corner of a
small clearing strewn with logs. One needs to see
the Nightjar amid her actual surroundings to realise
what a wonderful resemblance her feathers have in
colour to objects around. The photograph gives an
idea of this protective coloration.

To look at the bird one would think she was

A MIDDLESEX COPSE

169

perfectly oblivious of everything going on, as her
eye is almost closed, as can be clearly seen in the
picture ; but it only needed a sudden movement to

®!^«^-*-*'" .>.s<e^' ^^--k:* 8^4i_.-

1^-

"life ^^^^•^^-^^^

NIGHTJAR AND YOUNG.

send her away. \\'ith patience and care we got
several pictures. It will be noticed that a young
Nightjar is peeping out from beneath its mother's
wing, but this was not noticed until after the

170 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

photograph was developed, so that this alone will
give an idea of their marked resemblance to the
ground about them. When we had exposed enough

:^3>^:^J

YOUNG NIGHTJARS.

plates I approached the bird quietly from behind to
see what the result would be. Putting out my hand
I tried to touch her ; but although apparently asleep
she was wide awake, and very quickly flew away.

A MIDDLESEX COPSE 171

The young were alarmed, and we had some trouble
in taking their picture, as one insisted upon running
away ; and if we lost sight of either one or the
other it would have been impossible to find it again.
The old bird settled on a tree behind, and
squatted lengthwise on a branch, as is usually, but
not always the case ; I have seen them sitting for
long, across the branch like any other bird. I
wanted to obtain a picture on her return, as she
hovered over the young ; but although I waited
some time beneath a bush in a cramped position,
she would not return.

The flight of the Nightjar is as nearly as possible
the perfection of aerial graceful movement. One
needs to be in a place the}' frequent on a light
evening to see them at their best. Some parts of the
New Forest are very favourable for such observation.
I well remember one such night. I was standing on
the side of a hill ; below was a large heath on which
the birds bred ; but it was a little too early for their
eggs, and they were in that state of amorous
excitement which precedes egg-laying. Near by was
a cluster of large birch trees, and it was around these
that the birds were playing. Now one would dive
from a high branch and glide smoothly and noise-
lessly a short distance ; then, suddenly pulling up, he
would execute the most marvellous twists and turns —
and all without a sound ; then slowly rising he would

172 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

again drop to the earth, this time clapping his wings
and uttering a series of sharp cries ; then, when nearly
touching the ground, he would glide along and rise
farther away ; and at last came the most beautiful
movement of all : he slowly descended to a branch
with wings raised over his back, the tips of each not
quite touching. It is perfectly impossible to give
any adequate idea of the extreme gracefulness of the
Nightjar's flight under these conditions, when all is
still and the wood is wrapt in semi-darkness. The
only thing that I can liken it to — but the bird's Right
is really much more beautiful and striking — is the
flight of the Red-Admiral butterfly when sailing over
a bed of flowers and seeming undecided which to
settle on. When one bird had finished, another would
appear and go through similar evolutions ; and
sometimes two or three would join in the exercise,
with loud clapping of wings.

After long continued observation of these birds, I
hold strongly to the opinion that they collect their
food with the mouth wide open — that is, where swarms
of small insects abound. In this way they would
collect large quantities of gnats, etc. The bristles
around the beak would be a great help in collecting
food in this way. There must be a reason for their
having so large a mouth, and bristles at each side ;
and I think it would be out of the question for a bird
of this size to catch small flies separately. This mode

A MIDDLESEX COPSE 173

of feeding might also account for the many wonder-
ful movements in flight while sailing in mid air among
swarms of insects. I also think it is proved by
Mr. Edmund Selous, that the parent birds feed their
young in the same manner as Pigeons, — that is, by
regurgitation (see Zoologist, No. 70 r, November
1899). While trying to photograph a Nightjar as she
w^as squatting on a branch, I heard one or two liquid
notes — lit-it-it, lit-ii, which were at once recognised as
those of the Goldfinch. Looking in the direction, we
saw two birds sitting together on a dead oak branch ;
and after watching them for some time through field-
glasses, they flew away, one dropping into the thick
bushes below. I went towards the spot and
searched the bushes well for their nest without any
success, and then turned attention to the trees. There
were a number of }'oung oaks about standing some
thirty feet high. On the vcr\' first one examined I
saw a little nest about ten or twelve feet up, built
close to the trunk, amongst small thin branches. I
struck the tree with a stick, and to my delight a
Goldfinch flew from the branches. I ascended the
trunk, and there saw one of the most beautiful little
nests it has ever been my lot to look upon, made of
fine green moss, lined with white willow-down, and
containing three eggs. As sometimes happens, when
a good nest is found one is not able to photograph
it owing to no plates being available. It was so in

174 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

this case ; my companion and I had exposed all the

plates we had,
and were many
miles from home,
or from w^here our
stock could be re-
plenished. But it
is always a risk
to put off photo-
graphing a nest
until another day;
many a time have
I re";retted doino;

thi

ino' to the

eggs being taken
by some unscru-
pulous collector, or
by an egg-stealing
bird. However,
there was nothing
for us to do but
to leave this one
until next day,
when we returned
with a supply of
plates.
It was mentioned that the nest was about ten feet
from the ground, on a slender tree, without any

iITE OF.GOLDFIXCHS XEST.

A MIDDLESEX COPSE 175

large branches that would offer support for the
camera. We tried to borrow a ladder from a
farm-house near, but they had not one that was
suitable ; we could get nothing more than a small
pair of steps and some rope, but with these it was
impossible to raise the camera high enough for our
purpose. At a distance of about one hundred yards
was a number of felled trees, and we dragged three of
the smaller ones to the spot and endeavoured to make
an enormous tripod. It was heavy work, but at last
we had the satisfaction of seeing the result of our
labours in a very cumbersome-looking stand. By
moving each leg of our improvised tripod a few
inches at a time we at last got it in position. Then
to our dismay it was not quite tall enough, but we
found by lashing one of our tripods on top of the
large one the camera w ould be raised high enough to
effect our purpose. By means of the steps, which
proved of great use after all, we were able to reach
the camera for focussing. But a worse difficulty
arose : a wind sprang up, and the tree was so slender
that only a slight motion of the air would affect it,
and with a gusty wind it was a difficult matter to
focus a nest which swayed right across the focussing
screen. Occasionally the wind dropped a little, and
we tried to expose plates, but it was feared they
would be failures ; the only one of these which was
a success was one exposed about the twentieth part

176 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

of a second. Luckily towards evening the wind
dropped, and we secured several pictures of this
rare nest, with what result readers will judge for
themselves.

It is but seldom that one finds a nest in a position
easy to photograph, and critics of such photographs
have complained that many look as if they were
'toppling over,' or the ' backgrouiids are out of focus.'
If a nest is photographed on a still, bright day, it is
possible to stop the lens down until the greatest
distance is in focus ; but it is not often the bird
photographer can enjoy such a time. On a windy
day one has to have a large aperture in the lens, so
that quick exposures can be given to prevent move-
ment ; and again, a camera resting upon a moving
branch of a tree is very different from one standing
on the firm ground. Under such conditions quick
exposures must be given, with the consequence that
the near foreground, or distance, has to suffer. I
make it a rule to get every part of the plate sharply
focussed if possible, and when this is not so there is a
very good reason. In regard to many nests looking
as if they were ' toppling over,' let those who complain
try to take a photograph under similar difficult
conditions to those described in connection with the
Goldfinch.

It is to be greatly regretted that such a beautiful
bird as the Goldfinch is so rare in the greater part

GOLDFI.N'CH S NEST.

178 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

of these Islands. Happily it is now slowly but
surely increasing in those districts where the Wild
Birds Protection Act is properly enforced. Last
autumn I spent a few days in a remote Dorsetshire
village, and was delighted to see so many of these
handsome Finches. Notices setting forth the Act
were posted in prominent parts of the village ; and
to judge by the conversation I overheard between
two native women villagers, the paper was not put
up for decorative purposes, as seems to be the case
in some of our London suburbs.

' Have you 'eared abowt old Polly Crane ? She's
a been 'ad up fer ketchin' Goldfinches in 'er gardin.'

' You doan't say so ! '

' Yes, and she's been fined five shillin'.'

xAit this stage the second lady waxed warm in
language more energetic than polite on the oppres-
siveness of the ' Law ' ; and she kept on adding in her
expressive Western patois that a bird was a flyin'
thing, a flyin' abart, and that any one 'ad a right to
ketch of 'um, and the law was a 'rong 'un ; and if
Goldies came into her gardin she considered they
'ad come to be ketched, and she 'ad a right to ketch
of 'um, and what was more would do so : blow the
policeman, the law, or any one else who interfered !
' What say you, master ? ' I tried to impress upon her
that the law was right ; but she could not see eye
to eye with me, and at last gave up the argument,

A MIDDLESEX COPSE 179

muttering that a bird was a flyin' thing to be
ketched.

Not more than four miles from our Middlesex
copse there is a village, the surrounding fields of
which have several notice boards on which are posted
the Wild Birds Protection Act. Almost underneath
these boards, and in the height of the nesting season,
I have seen bird-catchers at work at their cruel trade.
No notice of these people seems to be taken by
the local authorities ; and the bird-catching and
systematic robbery of every nest found goes on,
and will still continue until something is done. If
this is not done quickly it will be too late, as far
as some of our best and rarest local breeding birds
are concerned.

It is not surprising that such an attractive cage-
bird as the Goldfinch should be rare in places where
bird-catching goes on unchecked. To a bird lover
it is most enjoyable to see Goldfinches at close
quarters, as I have done. What a pert little creature
he looks, as he sits on a thistle head ! Just as he
settles, the thistle sways slightly, and then he has
a little difficulty in getting a sure foothold. It is
now that we see him in his most engaging form ;
the handsomely marked wings are fluttering ; his tail
is spread out, and with bent head he angrily * talks ' —
///-/, pii-i. At length he settles and commences to
pull the feathery seeds out of the thistle, not one

i8o WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

at a time, as might be supposed, but in whole
bunches. He now flics to a firmer support, places
the seeds on his perch, and puts one foot on them,
and then separates the seeds from their downy
surroundings.

' Pink, pink:

The notes come from a cock Chaffinch which has
flown to the gound near. It is now that we can
admire the Goldfinch. Raising his wings defiantly
and sitting facing the Chaffinch, and bending forward,
he angrily calls pe-ii-i, pe-21-i. Pink, pink, answers
the larger bird ; but without more ado, the Goldfinch
viciously dashes towards the inoffensive Chaffinch and
drives him away. Returning to the thistle head,
and calling pe-ti-i several times in defiance to other
intruders, he more quietly resumes an interrupted
meal, again pulling out a bunch of silvery seeds,
and using his feet to hold the food with in the
same way as a Hawk might do. His whole manner
is kingly and delightful to watch ; he seems perfectly
conscious that he is of importance, and gives other
larger birds to understand that he is not to be trifled
with. What a pity it is that such Finches are not
more numerous ! They are charming little inhabit-
ants of bird-land, and deserve to be protected ; and
they would be if the Wild Birds Protection Act were
practised as much as it is preached.

The Goldfinch's nest is as beautiful as the bird

A MIDDLESEX COPSE i8i

that constructs it. Fine mosses are used for the
outside, while the interior is beautifully lined with
much finer materials, and soft willow-down, the whole
being a small compact round nest that would win
anybody's admiration. It is sometimes placed as
high as twenty-five feet from the ground ; at other
times low down, but always well concealed. Their
song is very pleasing ; though not loud, it is sweet,
and as good, if not better, than those of other Finches.
I have heard a Goldfinch and Linnet singing close
together, — each, as it were, trying to out-sing a rival ;
the pert Goldfinch being a contrast to the Linnet.
The latter sat quietly on a branch and uttered his
notes in a complacent kind of way. Not so the
other : he could not keep still, and the song was
hurried through and then started again in a louder
pitch, as if he thought it was great impudence on
the Linnet's part to dare to sing near to him.

This Middlesex copse has been the Goldfinches'
home for many years, and let us hope that they will
breed on undisturbed for many generations to come.

' I love to see the little Goldfinch pluck
The groundsel's feathered seed ;
And then, in bower of apple blossoms perch'd,
Trim his gay suit and pay us with a song.
I would not hold him prisoner for the world.'

HURDIS.

XIII
Round and About a Surrey Common

SURREY is one of the most favoured counties
in Eng-land in regard to commons. On old
maps we see that at one time the whole western
part was a series of wild tracts of uncultivated
land. It was possible to travel from Ascot Heath
in Berkshire, thence across Surrey to Bexley Heath,
in Sussex, over common-land the whole distance —
a stretch of thirty miles. Since those days much
of the land has been enclosed, but there are still
thousands of acres

' So wondrous wild, the whole might seem
The scenery of a fairy dream.'

Are Londoners generally aware of the wild beauty
and attractiveness of these commons ? One might
think that they were not ; for one may ramble for
hours without meeting a single human being. Within
a few miles of the greatest city on earth we can
wander at random over broad tracts where the

182

A SURREY COMMON 183

purple heather blooms and the wild strawberry bears
its fruit.

Lovely indeed is the outlook of any one of these
delightful remnants of mediaeval England on a fine
spring morning. Standing on a ridge, I look
across a stretch of wild heath-land that is not sur-
passed by the best scenery of the New Forest.
What a wide undulating expanse of country this
is ! Heather and bracken everywhere, with solitary
trees of greenest tints, and patches of pines in
company, the air being sweetly perfumed with the
odours of wild thyme and other herbs, while Yellow-
Hammers at intervals provide music which is carried
on the breeze. A long deep valley stretches for
miles below ; meadows and coppices, small heaths
and arable land on the sunny slopes remind one of
some wonderful chequered carpet set out with many
harmonising shades. In a distant wood is a cottage ;
one cannot actually discern its arrangements, but
sunbeams reflected in the glass become balls of
light like little suns. Beyond the valley, in the
distance, stands Caterham Church, peeping out from
the thick foliage round about, and nearer still
that of Upper Warlingham. Clouds cast shadows
which travel over field and wood, imparting darker
shades to dale and dell as they float across.
Wood-Pigeons fly out of a copse below on the
valley side ; and although I look down on them

i84 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

they are still high above the earth. A Lark singing
the song which has reminded many a traveller in
distant lands of ' Home, Sweet Home,' poises in its
downward flight. Labourers are at work in the
fields : but it is not easy to distinguish them without
a field-glass ; and there, too, a plough moves slowly
with its team of horses. Patches of chalk gleam in
the sun, and are dazzling to the eye.

A variety of flowers is seen. The fields round
about are sprinkled with the small purple heads of
salad burnet ; in among the grass, and growing
with wild thyme, are the peculiar but beautiful tiny
flowers of milkwort. Seed pods of bush vetch are
nearly ripe, and in a few days will be bursting, the
effect then being a continual cracking noise. Hop
and bird's-foot trefoil trail amongst the grasses on the
hillsides. Near a flowering root of bladder-campion,
a Tree-Pipit rises and discloses its well-hidden nest ;
the bird watching from a small wild rose bush as we
examine the eggs. Alongside the hedges is woody
nightshade, also dog-wood, and in places field-scabious.
Ox-eye daisies and quaking or dodder-grass wave in
the soft summer wind, keeping time with taller grasses.
The Pipit rises a short distance, descends with out-
spread wings, calling see-ar — see-ar — see-ar, and then
returns to the bush.

Across this field, and beyond the heather, is a
steep roadside copse. At regular intervals the loud

A SURREY COMMON 185

song of the Wood- Warbler is here heard. I enter
this leafy enclosure and watch the bird, hoping he
may indicate the site of his nest ; but instead of
doing this he leads the way farther from it. One
might search for days in this leaf-covered ground
for his nest ; and hence it is better to lie hidden by
bracken and to wait. The \\^ood-\\'ren still sings, and
by degrees comes nearer, until he is in a bush close
at hand. Lower and lower he comes, and I hope
he will go to the nest, when suddenly a little bird
flies from the ground close to my face, and thus
discloses her most skilfully hidden six eggs.

The Wood- Warbler is a woodland bird I have long
wished to study more carefully, so that I moved
farther away and watched this pair. While the male
sang, the hen called/?^-/,///-/, and then slowly moved
nearer towards the nest, until she settled on some
bracken directly over the site. Whistling once again,
she quietly dropped into the nest, and was then silent,
while her mate still sang loudly. As it w^as late, 1
could not photograph it, but returned on the following
morning and hid my camera under a heap of dead
bracken. The nest was under a dome of leaves ;
when the hen was sitting she was seen with difficulty,
and in a picture she would have been invisible. I
hoped, however, that before entering, she would settle
on one of the fern stalks growing near. xAfter a careful
examination of the strange pile near her home she

i86 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

flew direct to it and sat on her eggs. I wondered
how I should get a picture, as she did this every
time. At last I roused her from the nest, and
placed a leaf over the entrance; this just covered
the space.

After a while the Wood-Wren again returned, and
seemed to be very much surprised at the leaf fitted
in front of her home. For a moment she looked at
this, then without more ado she managed to pull it
away. I secured a photograph of this interesting
scene ; but the Warbler so closely resembles the
leaves around that it is almost impossible to distin-
guish her, and the picture is not here reproduced
for that reason.

Once again I fastened a leaf over the nest entrance,
and this time more securely. When the hen ap-
proached, several efforts were made to remove the
obstruction, but without success. Pu-i, pii-i, she
called, and her gallant mate came to her assistance.
Then they did what I had waited for during three
hours ; both settled on a piece of bracken near the
nest, and, as it were, held a consultation. 1 pinched
the pneumatic ball, and a strange thing happened.
There was a loud report, like a pistol-shot, and both
birds, of course, flew away. I had in use more
tubing than was necessary, and found that part of
this was under my body ; my weight prevented the
air from passing through the tube, which consequently

WOOD-WREN

i88 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

burst with some noise, which startled me quite as
much as the birds. I quickly mended the tube,
and was only just in time to secure the illustration
now shown. In all I waited four hours hoping to
secure a snapshot of both birds together ; but the
pistol-like report so scared the cock that he did not
again venture near the nest. If the hen remained
off the eggs any length of time her mate attacked
her, and seemingly scolded her for negligence. My
friend Mr. Stanley Boys, who for some years past
has studied bird life among these Surrey hills, had
noticed a similar thing to happen in the case of
other birds when a hen was too long away from
her eggs.

The Wood-Wren's song is very attractive, and
cannot be confounded with that of any other bird.
Owing to their very local habits they are often
overlooked in some districts ; and they never wander
far from their nests. The loud clear whistle, repeated
about twenty times, and such notes as tr-r-i'-r-r-r-i'-eez^
can be heard from a distance on a still day.

Leaving the trees, in which Ring Doves are leisurely
cooing, we will return to the common. Over a group
of furze bushes Linnets are twittering, and many of
their nests are there. It is difficult to photograph
any one of these ; for the wind, although slight, is
strong enough to move the branches. A bird flies
from the base of one of the bushes, and is at once

A SURREY COMMON

189

recognised as a Cirl-Bunting. Although these birds
breed on this common, the nest was not discovered.
They breed sparingly on some of the large moors
of the New Forest, from one of which my photograph
was obtained. The eggs, as a rule, can be distin-
guished from the
Yellow-Hammers' by
their bolder markings
and less hair-like
lines. Without see-
ing the sitting bird,
however, it is rather
hazardous to decide.
Cirl Buntings are
more sociable than
Y e 1 lo w-H a m m e r s ,
and will soon return
to the vicinity of
their nest if one
remains quite still.
Their song resembles
the Yellow-Bunting's,
but lacks the charac-
teristic 110 cJieese at the end. It may be likened to
zee-zee-zee-zee-zee, and is well described by the French
name of the bird — Zizi. The Cirl-Bunting seems to
favour chalky commons in preference to other parts.
Near by is a steep ridge, resembling the side of

ET S NEST.

190 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

a cliff. Forty yards below are several oaks, and one
can overlook their top branches. There are also
many lesser trees and bushes, whence comes the

purring of
Turtle Doves.
The V a 1 1 e }^
winds west-
ward, and then
takes a turn.
All along its
steep sides are
coppices of
beech, in which
hundreds of

Ring Doves
breed. De-
scending the
h i 1 1 - s i d e, we
enter one of
these glades,
but the steep
sides occasion
some difficulty
in walking.
Bullfinches, Greenfinches, and Garden-Warblers fly
out from bushes as we scramble along, all of which
have nests, and many of them are found. Above, a
Turtle Dove is heard, and in a thick hawthorn its

W'^M

A SURREY COMMON

191

nest may be seen. The Dove flies with loud flapping
as it leaves the bush ; the nest contains only one

TURTLE DOVES NEST.

egg, but notwithstanding makes a pretty picture.
In the still hours of evening, Turtle Doves will meet
on certain open spaces in woods and go through

192 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

many manoeuvres. First one bird rises about sixty
feet above the trees, then descends slowly, with
wings raised over its back ; others then take up the
exercise, while those perched in trees cry tr-rr-j-r-i^r-rr,
tr-rr-in'-rr-r7'. It is a pretty performance, especially
when they descend to the ground. The action al-
together is like the Tree- Pipit's flight while singing.

This roadside copse is full of delightful bird music.
Most of the common Warblers are singing ; the
Nightingale gives short bursts of his liquid song.
Everywhere Greenfinches are twittering their love-
talk ; and in one bush the young have left their nest
and arc joining in the chorus. A Jay darts in among
the trees and settles just overhead, but seeing an
intruder utters a startled scream and hurriedly leaves,
but not before the wary bird has unconsciously shown
the site of his well-hidden nest, containing one ^^2^.
It is not often one sees a Jay in the breeding season ;
and I have known them to elude the watchfulness of
the most keen-sighted gamekeepers, and bring up
a nestful of young. Numbers of these fine birds breed
in Epping Forest ; but although I have counted
dozens of their old nests during a day's ramble, when
the trees have been bare, I have seldom found them
in the breeding season. On the Surrey hills they
also' breed in fair numbers ; there are so many wild,
unfrequented woods, that one would expect to meet
with them more often than is the case.

A SURREY COMMON

193

At the end of this small wood much healthful
hcathland still stretches on before. A sprightly little
bird calls cJiak
chak from the yel-
low gorse as he
hops from bush
to bush. His jet
black head and
white collar show
him to be a Stone-
chat. He is essen-
tially a bird of the
heathland, and is
associated in my
mind with the
lonely \' e 1 1 o w
gorse-covered
moors of the Xeu'
Forest. Like the
two birds first
mentioned in
this chapter, the
Stonechat is local
and keeps to the
same breeding- . ■' - -

ground each year. One of the places in Middlesex
where this species breeds, is in a small churchyard
situated in one of the most densely populated districts

194 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

within the twelve-mile radius of London. These are
no doubt descendants of those birds which nested
here when the picturesque ivy-covered church stood
alone, amidst sylvan surroundings of far-stretching
fields, and wild marshes in which the Bittern was wont
to boom. What a contrast is now seen ! But still, the
Stonechat, with that strange love for its ancestral
ground which is found alike in birds and human
beings, rears its young amid the white tombstones.

But to return to our Surrey common. As we get
nearer to the golden furze, the excited Stonechat calls
vehemently and tries to attract us from its home.
It would be almost impossible to find the nest by
searching, but luckily the hen, startled by footsteps,
rises from a grass clump, and there is the site. How
annoyed the cock appears to be ; how he scolds and
hops from bush to bush, while his quieter mate mean-
while anxiously remains ;on a grass stem to watch
wdiile we photograph the eggs. Directly we turn
aside she returns to the nest, but the angry cock leads
us, or, rather, fancies he leads us, from that part of the
common until the gorse is far behind.

A Surrey common in June should fascinate and
instruct anyone, however ignorant of Nature's wonders.
To bird lovers it is a veritable paradise. Especially
is it so at eventide, when the red orb of the sun
sinks beyond the slopes and hillocks of heather,
accompanied, as it were, behind the far distant blue

^^^^^■■'\.'[

• TONECHAT S NEST.

196 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

hills by drifting crimson clouds. Sunset is the signal
for the Fern-Owl to be out and about, and hence
from different directions is heard their 'jarring' or
' churring.' The complement of the summer day is
now enjoyed in the softer silence of approaching
night. A gentle musical sound pervades the flower-
scented air, caused by the faintly perceptible murmur
of the breeze and the hum of countless insects.
Nature is still telling her secrets in the quieter evening
atmosphere. I yearn for deeper insight into her
mysteries, and for more knowledge of her everyday
marvels. I do not refer to the knowledge found in
books, nor to that to be discovered by hard study.
I long to know what a bird's song means. Listen to
the notes of the Nightingale in yonder copse, which
seem to speak of other things than those of earth,
but which we know no more about than we do of
that other great mystery of bird life — Migration. To
be alone with Nature at such a time gives one a
yearning for the unknown which cannot fully be
satisfied. Everything around is so full of mystery,
and of things not to be fathomed.

The loud hoot of a Tawny Owl arouses one from
any reverie, however ; and the stars are now seen to
be shining clear and bright. After a day of rare
enjoyment, reluctantly I turn homeward — to leave the
charms of this Surrey Common to churring Night-
jars and the lonely Nightingale.

XIV
A Middlesex Brook

THE bushes alongside the slowly flowing stream
are already of a faint green tinge, and the
banks are also losing their washed winter appear-
ance; where here and there a primrose brightens
the otherwise still sombre outlook. Autumn left
behind a rough tangle of deca}ing vegetation,
which the winter storms soon swept awa}' ; for
when snow falls heavih^ and then melts, the stream
presently becomes a torrent. During a recent
flood the Moor-hens resorted to adjoining flooded
meadows, and Water-Voles left their brookside
haunts to come inland, hiding by day in ditches,
or under hedges, and feeding by night. Now
that the water has got back to its normal height,
these have returned, and Moor-hens are already
choosing their nesting-places ; some have even
commenced to build.

The holes in which \Vater-\"oles had lived are

filled up by mud and other debris, and their ' runs '

197

198 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

are quite obliterated. Not to be daunted, how-
ever, they are
busily at work

WATER-VOLE.

new homes ;
but as these
are made at
night, it is im-
possible to see
them at their
interesting
labours. It is
so seldom that
one is able to
study the ways
of our British
wild animals,
owing to their
n o c t u r n a 1
habits, that it
is r e a 1 1 >^ a
pleasure to
find oneself in
the company
of s u c ]i an
engaging
He is always

little quadruped as the Water- Vole.

attractive, and is especially so when feeding. Peasants,

A MIDDLESEX BROOK 199

and others as ignorant, call him a 'rat,' and quite
naturally confound him with the common rodents
which infest barns and outhouses. They are as
common on any stream-side as ordinary rats, but
few people can distinguish one from the other. The
Common Rat is grey, and when moving along his
' runs ' he has a clumsy appearance. Not so with
the Vole : he is elegant and graceful in all his
movements, while his colour is a rich dark brown,
and he has not a pointed nose like his grey compeer.
His front teeth are long and curved, and are of a
deep yellow colour ; his ears are hardly visible, which
alone should distinguish him from the Common Rat.
In manners he more resembles a beaver than a rat ;
when the young are able to swim, the skilful
parents make a platform of sticks or reed blades
for the youngsters to rest upon. These are built
on any support that may offer itself in the stream,
such as a submerged branch, or any convenient
object. If the water rises slightly, other materials
are added, so that the nest, as it might be called,
is still kept fairly dry. These platforms are also
used as feeding stations.

The Water-Vole is one of the cleanest of small
animals, and when not feeding is often seen engaged
in attending to its glossy brown fur. As far as I
have been able to observe, their whole diet is a
vegetable one. Many times have I been gratified

200 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

by seeing one sitting at the waterside engaged in
preparing a repast. First they collect the food,
which is often a tiny green plant which grows on
the surface of the water ; this is gathered with one
of the front feet, which are used as hands. On
finding a suitable support they sit on their haunches,
and carry the food to their mouth by one or both of

the front feet, and
in this prettily in-

:i/4^ 'Wif^-A teresting way they

eat. Sometimes a
selected plant is
one growing on
the bank and out
of reach of their
mouth ; but if able
to touch it with
their feet, this is
pulled down so
water-vole's nest in reeds. in at pieces can oe

nibbled off.
At this time of the year (March) males are
sometimes seen fighting. Once, when w^alking by
the brookside, I heard great splashing a little distance
down stream. Very cautiously approaching, and
being almost hidden by bushes, I was able to
observe what was going on without being seen.
One Vole was chasins; another in the water, the one

A MIDDLESEX BROOK 201

attacking the other whenever an opportunity occurred,
and vice-versa. Now both would disappear, only to
be seen again a moment or two after in a different
part. Tumbling, and turning over and over, they
were again lost to sight in the muddy stream. The
water is actually beaten into a foam as these two
determined little creatures swim round and round,
over and under, performing evolutions which would
do credit to an otter. At length the vanquished one
makes a deep dive, and in the dense sand-filled water
manages to elude his pursuer, now rising at a few
yards distance, and then makes away to the best of
his ability. The victor now swims to the bank, and
when there shakes himself, so as to rid himself of
all superfluous water ; but notwithstanding all, he
deservedly presents a sorry half-drowned appearance.
With his front feet he now ' frisks ' the water from
his face, then slowly runs off and enters his hole,
wiser, as one may hope, if not better for his
adventure.

In the spacious reed-beds of Norfolk, and in other
similar spots, where there are few places for Water-
Voles to make holes for living in, nests are made ;
and nearly every large clump contains one of these.
They are domed over, and have a hole at the side
for entrance and exit. I have found Bearded Tits
and Water- Voles living together in several clumps
of reeds as quite friendly neighbours ; this clearly

202 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

showing that the Vole is no enemy of birds, like
the Common Rat.

The chief attraction of the stream at this time,
however, is the Kingfisher. In the breeding time
these birds are shy, and one does not see much of
them ; but later in the year, or about July, it is
possible to observe them more closely, providing one
is thoroughly hidden. Two adult Kingfishers, flying
down stream, followed by four hungry youngsters is
a bird-land scene that few would readily forget. I
have seen such a company, and have followed the
flock to have the pleasure of getting close to the
whole charming family as they sat on some over-
hanging branch by the water side. When rambling
in bird-land one sees many such delightful scenes,
pretty little episodes in our birds' every-day lives.

Last winter (January 1900), the earth was washed
away from the roots of a tree standing by the water ;
it consequently fell across the stream. An attempt
was made to remove it, but this failing, the branches
were cut away, leaving one stump coming out of the
water. This remained in position for the greater
part of the year.

I was wandering leisurely along the brook-side one
day in June, and thought I caught sight of a King-
fisher leaving this stump. I was not certain, however ;
but on the next day I returned with my camera,
and focussed the stump, hiding all apparatus on the

204 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

bank. Some trees were near at hand, and I found
that by climbing to the top of one of these a good
view of the stump could be obtained, while I remained
well concealed. In this position I waited for two
hours. Suddenly I saw a flash of brilliant green
below ; my bird was sitting on the stump. I instantly
pressed the pneumatic ball, releasing the shutter — only
just in time, for the Kingfisher at once flew away.
I descended and hurried home with what I thought
would be a good photograph ; but on developing
I had the mortification of finding that the plate was
hopelessly fogged, and of course useless. All bird
photographers must necessarily have disappointments
at times ; but this was one of the worst I ever
experienced.

The following day I again returned and put my
camera in the same spot, and waited for the King-
fisher. At first it seemed to promise to be a tedious
time, and I was none too comfortable in my lofty
retreat ; but a number of birds visited the tree, and
taking note of these and their ways helped to while
away the hours. Willow-Wrens and Garden-Warblers
perched near, and flew about among the branches
in search of food. At first they always seemed
surprised when they saw me, but as I kept perfectly
-Still they gained confidence, and at times would
almost settle on me.

A Moor-hen which had built her roosting nest

A MIDDLESEX BROOK 205

on the submerged tree-trunk became an object of
interest as she led her young about. Numbers of
birds came to drink at this favourite spot ; at one
time a Nightingale, a Thrush, and a Blackbird were
all close together drinking ; these were all within the
radius covered by my lens, and would have made
a charming picture, but I dared not expose my plate,
because the Kingfisher might appear at any minute.

About twelve o'clock I saw him flying up stream,
and he settled on the stump. I waited a (qw minutes,
hoping he might take up a better position, but as
he showed signs of dozing I exposed a plate. I
wanted to get to the camera to change the plate, but
did not want my presence in the tree to be known
to the bird. I waited for a quarter of an hour, hoping
he might fly on, but he closed his eyes and seemed
to be going to sleep. At last I tried to frighten
him away by throwing things into the water, but
these only caused him to gaze intently at the surface
thus disturbed. Having taken luncheon, I rolled
up the paper in which it had been wrapped,
and then threw that at him, thinking surely this
would be effective ; but he simply looked interested
as this fell, and watched it to the bank, and then
turned his head to see what was coming next. Three
more missiles followed, which only had the effect
of making him look up again. I had a book with
me, and letting this fall flat as near as possible to

2o6 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

him, it made noise enough to frighten almost any
bird ; but even this had no disturbing effect on my
Httle visitor, he not deigning even to look aside or
to seem to be startled. Eventually, after a volley
of more missiles, I descended, and not until I had
almost reached the ground did he fly away.

,. ^ /4ii

^,..-' Ai ■-<- .■

f ** ^'('" ' ■^f'W^ f '■

vr.

' 1

.:, / J;'

UIK Or KINGFISHER

I changed the plate, reasccndcd the tree, and at the
end of another two hours the Kingfisher came back.
I particularly wanted to get a picture of him sitting
with his back to the camera, so as to more effectively
show his beautiful plumage ; but, although I waited
some minutes, he persisted in facing the lens. By

A MIDDLESEX BROOK 207

this time he showed signs of restlessness, by repeatedly
looking behind ; and as he seemed to be about to
leave, I exposed another plate.

The cause of his uneasiness was soon apparent :
his quick ears had told of some one's approach, and
he flew off, looking like a dart of brightest blue
leaving the perch. A rustic trespassing in search
of nests then appeared. I shouted to warn him of
the pneumatic tube, but he was evidently stone deaf ;
for he stumbled and got my apparatus about his feet.
He then spied the rubbish covering the camera, and,
upsetting this, he pulled the camera round. All this
time I had been climbing down the tree, and called to
him to take care what he did, but found that I could
not make him hear. However, the camera and tube
were none the worse for this rough usage. I saw no
more of the Kingfisher on that day, the commotion
having driven him to more distant feeding grounds

The next day I returned to my retreat in the tree,
and waited for four and a half hours. The bird
passed along the stream twice without settling, and
I left without a picture. Other bird visitors helped
to provide entertainment. Redstarts came and fed
their young ; Nightingales did the same. A Sedge-
Warbler cheered me with his chatty song ; and several
species of Titmice hopped round about in the tree.
A Wood-Pigeon sat on the topmost branch of a tree
hard by and cooed. Water- Voles swam about below,

2o8 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

so that I was kept well entertained while watching
all of these birds and animals. People sometimes
remark what a weary occupation it must be waiting
to photograph a bird, — but really the time passes very
quickly ; there are always so many things to attract
and engage one's attention, especially in spring or
summer. During winter months it is more dull, and,
if cold, somewhat more monotonous.

I was determined to get a picture of the Kingfisher
showing his back, if possible. Eventually I succeeded ;
but altogether it cost me twenty-five hours of waiting.
Most of this time I sat aloft in the tree ; the other
part of the time was passed in a much less comfort-
able place on the stream bank, underneath a small
willow tree. While there I got a very passable
photograph ; but divers misadventures seemed to be
against me, for on opening the slide the plate was
broken in three pieces, one of the cracks being right
across the bird's back.

On July 3 I spent seven hours in the tree-top, and
was rewarded for my patience by two Kingfishers
making their appearance and settling on the stump.

I secured two pictures, and then watched their
doings. Just as I had exposed one plate, the second
bird arrived and sat close to its companion. It was
interesting to take notice of the way in which these
bird-fishers caught supplies for a meal. Many
naturalists have described them as sitting perfectly

210 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

still over the water watching for their prey. I found,
however, this not to be the case ; the only time they
were still was when they dozed after a full repast.
Otherwise they were continually on the move, and
appeared to be even restless. The water was
swarming with hundreds of tadpoles, but these were
strictly ignored ; they caught fish alone. Not once
during many hours did they touch one of these,
which I thought to be rather strange, seeing that the
Kingfisher will sometimes take food other than fish ;
but perhaps this is only when hunger becomes more
pressing.

It was seldom that they took fish immediately
underneath where they were sitting. Their eyesight
must be something wonderful ; for, though the water
was far from clear, they made flights of five yards
fro,m their perch to drop into the water, and on each
one of these short excursions never failed to bring up
a fish. One of the birds dived from its perch, and,
strange to say, missed its prey ; it was in the water
only a few seconds, the dive greatly disturbing the
surface. On rising it sat on a twig and gazed
intently at the water, looking a picture of eagerness ;
then a second dive was made, and the diver came up
with his fish, evidently the one which had been missed
the time before. This incident seemed to indicate
that the Kingfisher may probably have some kind of
attractive or fascinating influence over its prey. One

A MIDDLESEX BROOK 211

would have thought that the first dive would have
driven all the fish away ; for a stone dropped into
the water will scatter a swarm of small fish in all
directions, notwithstanding that this makes far less
splashing than the Kingfisher's dive.

On several occasions the birds hovered some inches
over the surface before catching anything ; these
attempts never failed ; and one bird actually settled
in a shallow place, and picked up a fish out of the
water. Another left the stump, flew about five yards
up stream, and settled on a twig a few inches above
the water, at a very dark spot. The bird seemed to
overbalance backwards, and fluttered, hanging back
towards the water ; then it turned completely round
and dived in one action, and brought up a fish.

When a small fish was caught it would be
swallowed at once, and sometimes before the bird
again settled. With larger specimens their method
was quite different : these were violently beaten on
a branch, or on whatever the bird might be sitting,
the blows being distinctly heard by me, twenty feet
above the performance. It was really surprising
to note the quantity which these birds really ate.
Their hunger for their favourite food seemed never
satisfied, and all the time I watched them they were
capturing fish at short intervals, with the exception
of about fifteen minutes, when they sat side by side
on a branch and dozed, a very necessary sequel to

212 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

their heavy meal. This was really a delightful enter-
tainment, and I was extremely sorry when the
Kingfishers left. The day was a very stormy one,
two heavy thunderstorms passing over, — the accom-
panying picture being taken just as a third storm-
cloud obscured the sun. I previously mentioned that
a Moor-hen's nest was built on the trunk ; it is on a
part of this that the bird is seen in the photograph.

Before finishing this chapter I will make some
remarks on the habits of Moor-hens. In my book.
In Bii'd-Land^ with Field-glass and Camera, I referred
to the previously overlooked habit of Moor-hens
making additional nests for their young to roost in.
Last spring (1900) I was able to watch several pairs
of this species, and found that in all cases an
additional nest was added as soon as the young were
hatched. When these grew, more nests were made,
I believe by the young ones themselves. The nest
on the fallen tree, on which the Kingfishers sat,
was one of these roosting-nests, and was used
every day by young Moor-hens, and also by the
parent birds to rest in. Materials such as green
grass, hay, and straw were added each night, and the
nest consequently reached a great size. I saw freshly
gathered green grass in it as late as the beginning of
August, the young being hatched on May 7, so that
one can judge the size of the nest when it was
abandoned in September.

A MIDDLESEX BROOK

213

During July the water sank considerably, and the
nest became smaller. The birds, evidently having
some difficulty in reaching it on account of the height
above the water, were pulling pieces from it and

moor-hen's roosting-xest.

rebuilding lower down ; but on the water rising again
the new one was not finished, and the young con-
tinued using the original one, which was repaired.
One other roosting-nest was built near, this being a

214 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

large loose structure, and was only used for a short
time. Each pair of Moor-hens on the brook made
these roosting-nests for their young last spring, thus
bearing out my belief that these are made for a
purpose, and are not a ' useless waste of time and
labour,' as I have somewhere seen suggested.

Another habit of Moor-hens is worth noting. It
seems to be their general habit, on this Middlesex
brook, to commence sitting as soon as the first egg
is laid, the result being that some young are hatched
before others. The male Moor-hen takes charge of
these, and in some cases begins to construct roosting-
nests before all the brood are hatched.

Seven eggs are about the average number laid ; but
it is surprising how few young reach maturity. I
have never seen more than three nearly full-grown
young with their parents, one, or two beiiig more
often the total. This is the more remarkable because
there are only few enemies to destroy them on this
Middlesex stream. There arc a few rats, and these
probably account for many of those that disappear.
The rats and voles, however, are kept down by
Herons. Occasionally one of these great birds is
seen standing in shallow water waiting for prey.
It was only recently I suddenly came upon one so
occupied.

A short distance from the brook, and connected
with it by a tiny trickling streamlet, is a lake.

A MIDDLESEX BROOK

215

This is always an interesting place, and Herons are
often to be seen on its reed-fringed margins. It is
made more delightful because that sprightly water-
bird, the Dabchick, breeds there. In springtime the

whole surface
covered with

of
a

the lake — about two acres-

-is

growth of water
plants and a kind
of green slime.
This affords an
ideal nesting-place
for such birds.
Many hours have
I spent t li c r c
searching for their
eggs, but always
unsuccessfully.
This is partly
owing to their
habit of covering
their eggs with the
slimy surround-
ings, and to the difficulty of quantins
the weeds. We did manage to move the punt to a
part where the nest might be situated. The former,
however, had seen better days, and was of very little
use ; for when we reached the place it sank, leaving
us to reach shore as best we could. On another

SEARCHING FOR LITTLE GREBE S NEST.

a punt among

2i6 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

day I tried to discover a nest by wading, without
result. In places where the water is free from weeds
these lively birds may be seen sporting on the
surface, darting here, then diving and coming up a
distance away, and again loudly paddling and splash-
ing, but never giving a hint to an eager naturalist
as to where their nest may be found.

HAUNT OF THli LITTLE GKEBii.

XV
A Summer Night in the Woods

SUCH crimson clouds as showed the course of
the setting sun have long since faded into grey.
Birds have ceased their songs and sought their
roosting places in the thick foliage of the trees.
Turtle Doves have ceased purring in the bushes ;
the last homeward-bound Rook has settled by the
side of his nest. Bats, which were dodging about
near the tree-tops, cannot now be seen ; but their
shrill notes can be heard.

Heavy clouds gather overhead ; no rustling wind
breaks the silence among the trees ; and in such a
close, damp atmosphere, the very air seems to remind
one that the oppressive heat of day survives the
departed sun. The night is as dark as it is damp
and close ; but happily under these conditions we
are likely to hear the Nightingale sing in perfection.
I make my way towards the wood, through long
grass and under trees that seem to stand in motion-
less expectancy. As one passes through the thick

2i8 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

undergrowth, many suggestive rustlings are heard.
Now it is a rabbit, then a rat may cross the path.
Now and again a shrill squeaking in the grass
notifies that a frightened shrew is rushing to its hole.

To reach the wood I have to pass across a valley
which is watered by a little stream, and along the
bank of this I wend my way. Here occur a variety
of noises, such as one hears only when darkness
covers the land. Strange sounds indeed are some
of these ; others are recognised as the note of some
night bird, or the cry of an animal. Then there
are noises above ; high up over the trees are heard
curious bird notes, such as I cannot quite account
for. Perhaps these sounds come from a bird on
its passage across the country ; however this may be,
it flies quickly, for now it is heard far away, and at
last dies away in the distance. Young Moor-hens
call from the stream, and much splashing is heard ;
intermingled with this are the cries of several older
Moor-hens. I cangucss what is the cause of this :
a bird from another part of the stream has trespassed
on a stretch belonging to regular occupiers. A fight
ensues, hens helping their gallant mates, and thus the
aggressors are driven oiT. Rats are heard squealing,
and as I move along the bank a *plop' is heard
as one and another of these unseen forms dive into
the dark water, for a moment to break the strange
silence.

A SUMMER NIGHT IN THE WOOD 219

Many moths are out and about ; a white flittering
form dances before one for a second, and is lost in
the darkness. Most moths seem to prefer a damp,
warm night, to the clearer atmosphere of a cooler
evening.

Away in the far distance is an ominous rumbling ;
thunder can be heard, and gradually storm-clouds
come rolling up and add to the gloom. At length
every now and then the firmament is lit with a fitful
glare, as lightning which is still many miles away
flashes on one side of the horizon to illumine the
whole heavens. It is now that grand shapes are
to be seen — huge masses of cloud, one behind another,
which roll onwards, and with each electric flash
seem to change their position. One moment we
see them in a curious shape, perhaps resembling
some material form, and with the next flash this
is changed — covered by another great roll of
vapour, and thus slowly the vast storm clouds roll
onwards.

A large drop of rain strikes a leaf, others follow,
and then the stillness seems to be broken ; but still
the rain is loath to come, and the air, if possible,
seems still more oppressive than before. Taking
shelter in a shed on the edge of the wood, we watch
the approaching tempest. Presently there is a
significant roar in the distance — not of the thunder,
but of the on-coming rain and wind. Bushes and

220 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

trees now swing and rustle gently, and the next
minute the storm is on us. We just hear a cock
Pheasant near cry in defiance, while from the stream
comes the cry of a startled Moor-hen as she calls
her young ; and then minor voices are drowned in
the greater commotion.

With one mighty rush the wind catches the trees,
and in less than a minute the lately dry ground is
receiving the welcome drops of water. A dazzling
flash of lightning shows us the wood for a second —
a picture which is impressed permanently on the
mind. Leaves are flying everywhere, and great
strong trees are bending to the gale. Then thunder
strikes earth and heaven, and the report frightens
all living creatures in the wood. Another blinding
flash, and another picture is seen — -one also to be
lastingly remembered. A little bird is blown from
its perch, and is fluttering and struggling against two
of Nature's mightiest forces — wind and rain.

What a spectacle for poets and painters to look
upon is a woodland storm at night ! Each flash of
lightning reveals a grand picture which is vividly
photographed on the mind. When walking through
these woods in daylight we do not see them as they
are shown by Nature's electric nocturnal light. There
is the winding path— only a track — bordered high
and thick with flowers and nettles. Each tree is
brought out with rare distinctness : curious shapes,

A SUMMER NIGHT IN THE WOOD 221

indeed, do the branches momentarily appear to
assume ; weird black shadows are cast by them,
while the whole wood is illumined with a kind
of ghostly light. The roar and rumbling of the
thunder now drowns all other sounds ; crash
follows crash with supernatural-like force ; it is as
though the forest trees were being split and were
crashing on to the ground. Between these thunder-
claps there is a continual roar, as the echo
comes back from the far-off hills and travels along
the valley.

As the storm increases in force so the lightning
becomes more vivid, and seems to have a bluer
hue. One flash especially lights up the wood and
seems to strike the ground quite near to where I
stand ; the thunder is heard with the flash, and it
is just one short, sharp crack, like the report of a
rifle intensified ten thousand times. A moment
of darkness then follows, but falling branches and
breaking timber add some diversity, and again
lesser sounds are drowned in the returning echo of
the great clap of thunder, which seems to shake the
whole frame of Nature.

Slowly the storm passes ; the lightning somewhat
abates and gradually the vast cloud moves farther
off. Rain still falls heavily, however, and is con-
verting the ground into a swamp. As the clouds
pass on, and the thunder now only rumbles loudly,

222 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

a dim light is seen in the east. The crescent moon
is just rising, and is dimly seen in a break in the
great rolling mass of cloud. The rain falls more
lightly, so that again one is able to hear other sounds
apart from the storm. Away in the west is seen
a star, and as the end of the storm-cloud passes
others appear. The wind drops as quickly as it
rose, and the rain at last ceases. There is only the
drip, drip, as the water falls from the trees and hits
the sodden vegetation below.

What a contrast is the calm now reigning in the
wood to the late tempest ! A Thrush utters some
notes of his song, and this sounds all the more
beautiful after the raging of the elements. Thrushes
and others often sing at night ; sometimes a noise
will set them off, but at other times their practice
is not to be explained. To-night their notes give
a sense of relief, and seem to add charm to the
restored quietness of night in the wood. It might
be likened to a reassuring sign of Nature telling
that the storm is past, and that the solemn stillness
of night has followed.

Leaving our shelter to pass along the woodland
border, we enter the wood higher up, where the
undergrowth is not so thick. After travelling about
three hundred yards under the larger trees we come
to an open space. Near the middle of this is a white
object, which on closer inspection is seen to be a tree

A SUMMER NIGHT IN THE WOOD 223

split to pieces. It was this tree that the Hghtning
struck when at its nearest. Branches are torn off
and converted into splinters, nearly every piece of
bark is stripped from the trunk ; and all lies in a
confused heap. Round and about the base of what is
left of the trunk is a heap of splintered touchwood.
There arc taller trees near, and it is singular that
the lightning should have singled out this pollard
willow.

Farther along the meadow is the Nightingale's
home. The last time that I saw this the mid-
day sun was shining. A cluster of furze bushes
stood around, relieved here and there by small
trees ; brilliant yellow furze blossoms and many
other gay-tinted flowers were to be seen among
the thick matted undergrowth. It is a wild corner,
w^ell secluded, and a place into which intruders
seldom enter^ and is therefore just the abode
which a Nightingale loves.

Midnight has nearly come when he commences
to sing. The first notes ring out loud and clear,
and are carried . far into the wood ; then a long
silence ensues. Is he listening for a rival to strike
up? Nightingales always sing best when another
is near ; and a curious thing is that the best singer
usually continues singing long after all others have
become silent. At last there comes, in this instance,
an answering song from the far distance, which can

224 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

barely be heard, but the little brown bird near at
hand has quicker ears, and commences to reply in
earnest.

Never did I hear a bird sing like this one ; I took
careful notice on the spot of the number of times
some of the notes were repeated. Once the loud,
flute-like whistle was repeated thirty-five times, and
no written words could give any adequate idea of the
beauty of these. The first few notes were short ; but
as they continued, they rose in the most perfect
crescendo until the twenty-fifth note was reached.
Then, still lengthening, they softly died away,
meanwhile sinking to a lower tone. Only once were
they repeated thirty-five times in succession, but
frequently they were uttered twenty-five times. The
shorter whistle was given twenty-nine times, and the
jug-jug that some Nightingale lovers so much admire,
forty times in succession. I have never listened to a
more perfect singer, and to-night, after the thunder-
storm, the performance is more captivating than ever.
The notes are full of pathos, now mournful, then
characterised by silvery liquidness. In each note
there is rare charm, and the whole is a magnificent
triumph, that carries with it an indescribable
fascination. Heard now in this lone, wild spot,
when the wood is silent and sleeping, it soothes our
very soul. There are notes soft enough not to awake
the lightest sleeper, but these swell into a wild rush of

A SUMMER NIGHT IN THE WOOD 225

melody, only to sink again into music which inspires
pensive sadness. The surroundings add to the charm,
and help to make the Nightingale's song what it is.
The clear shining stars, and the bright crescent of the
moon, ever and anon breaking out from among still
straggling thunder-clouds, give out enough light
to make the scene more lonely and to bring out
its seclusion. Trees stand out against the inky sky
in all kinds of weird or fantastic shapes ; and the
silence between the singer's notes can almost be felt.
Hour after hour we listen to Tennyson's

' Wild bird, whose warble liquid sweet,
Rings Eden through the budded quicks.'

The trees now begin slowly to assume their natural
shapes, and the stillness of night seems passing off the
land. The eastern sky becomes lighter ; a chill wind
sweeps over the ground. Heavy, low-hanging mist
hovers about the grass, and the charm of early night
is fast departing ; but the Nightingale still sings.

Suddenly, however, a Blackbird is heard from the
wood heralding the coming dawn : the effect is
magical. It is a signal for all birds that day is
breaking ; and Thrushes and Robins respond in their
own way. A beam of light rises in the east from
behind the clouds, and presently the land is flooded
with a yellow light. Hundreds of Warblers are now
singing, and from the meadow comes a Lark to pour

226 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

out his simple little song of love. The Nightingale
still utters a few straggling notes, but the charm of
his song ended with the last twinkles of the morning
star, when the sun's brighter beams appeared over his
wild home.

The Nightingale is said to cease singing as soon as
its young are hatched ; and this is correct as far as
the louder notes, which we hear while the hen is
sitting, are concerned. The male bird often sings
after the young are hatched, hovv^ever. If readers
will take the trouble, as I have done, of concealing
themselves near a Nightingale's nest when the young
are hatched, they will still hear the cock singing.
Every note wmII be heard — but how different from
what it was ! Instead of being loud, and filling the
wood with its sound, it is now so subdued as to be
scarcely audible at a distance of four yards. These
are not just odd notes repeated at random, but all the
song exactly as repeated earlier in the season, the
only difference being as described. This is an
interesting fact, such as I have not seen mentioned
elsewhere. There is much to learn about the habits
of even our commonest birds. If persons interested
in them would penetrate into the birds' own wild
homes, much would be seen and discovered that
would charm and instruct such observers.

XVI
Buttercup Meadow

BUTTERCUP MEADOW is bordered on one
side by a small wood, at another side by
an orchard which not long ago was clothed with a
mantle of glistening white blossoms, relieved here
and there with patches of pink showing where apple
trees stood among the rest. Along one side of tne
meadow flows a small brook, but large enough
to afford shelter for several pairs of Moor-hens.
Dividing the stream from the meadow is a hedge
covered with the most beautiful of summer wild
roses. At nightfall the air is scented with the
perfume of honeysuckle, the flowers of which hang
in festoons over the water, thus attracting great
numbers of moths.

The meadow is a slightly rising grassy hill, covered
with the yellowest of buttercups. Some are tall,
standing high above the others, and on the stronger
stems Whinchats settle and give forth their song.

Where buttercups are more thinly provided daisies

227

228 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

fill the gap, their white star-like faces being turned
towards the sun. Butterflies — -bluer than the sky —
flit here and there in the sunshine, and Tortoiseshell
butterflies also are about ; and nearer the orchard

Orange-tips are
skimming along.
Just beyond the
hedge, in the wood,
grows a silver pop-
lar, and its leaves
rustle as the wind
turns them up, and
when the sunbeams
catch their under-
side they are as
bright as the wave-
lets on the brook.
Taller grasses, near
the stream, are
constantly sway-
ing as Reed-Bunt-
ings alight on
their slenderstems.'
Already they have
a brood, and are feeding them every few minutes.
Hidden among the daisies, and surrounded by butter-
cups, there is a Sky-Lark's nest with four eggs. The
hen is sitting, and high up over the flowers her mate

REED-BUNTING (hEN) ON REED.

BUTTERCUP MEADOW 229

circles, carolling forth his song of love, making those
who hear it more happy, while adding to the joy of
a radiant spring morning.

As I rest among yellow flowers, listening to his
song and watching butterflies and the antics of tiny
blue dragonflies dancing over the grass, thoughts
wander back to past summers, when the great oak
near the wood w-as younger, but still stood up as
the centre of similar scenes. What would one
not give to look on some of the sights of mediaeval
days which this now rugged weather-worn tree
has stood among. Here Tudor and Stuart kings
hunted the stag, and an old writer, speaking of
Enfield Chase, of w^hich this meadow forms part,
says of it : 'A solitary desert, yet stor'd with
not less than three thousand deere.' ' Desert ' is
a misnomer for a piece of charming wild country
the like of which Middlesex will never possess
again. I can imagine that along this self-same
stream a hunted stag would endeavour to escape
the hounds by putting them off the scent by taking
to the waterway. In such a wild tract there must
have been more birds and a greater variety of
species, for the balance of Nature w^as not checked
as is the case in these days ; now^ if a rare bird
shows itself its life is endangered by powder and
shot. Then the birds were free throughout the year,
and were not persecuted by collectors, as is the case

230 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

at present. Larks sang as sweetly then — and perhaps
more sweetly, for they were left in possession of
favourite grounds, with the limitless expanse of blue
above. My thoughts go back still further ; 1 think
of ancient Druids with their pagan rites cutting
mistletoe from the trees in the ancient wood, and I
try to imagine what it was like to be abroad in the
unenclosed forest in those days. What birds there
must have been, — such birds as English people will
never look upon again, unless the land should once
more become depopulated and go back to its wooded
condition. Our most interesting birds are fast dis-
appearing, and some will soon be extinct as a breeding
species. Unless a bird-loving population takes the
place of the fashionable generation of ' murderous
millinery ' and greedy collecting, a better outlook
may not be expected.

A Carrion-Crow startles me with his loud cry, and
flies over Buttercup Meadow. Such a bird seems to
be out of place among the harmony and many-
coloured scene of this fresh spring day. He settles
on a bare branch of a dead tree and calls again
several times ; long he stays there, and for a time
is not thought about. There are other nests besides
the Lark's in Buttercup Meadow. Alongside the
brook, on the bank, a Yellow-Hammer has built, and
the hen, when I passed, w^as away and the four
beautifully marked eggs could be seen by carefully

BUTTERCUP MEADOW

231

moving aside the thick herbage. In a tree near by
the male keeps on repeating his song, which country-
people understand as, a little bit 0 bread and ?io-o
cheese. When the full complement of eggs are laid
the hen will not leave the nest until practically taken
off. I have heard
of cases in which
the hen has been
killed by a pass-
ing cart-wheel
while she was
faithfully per-
forming the duty
of incubation.

Nearly in the
centre of the
meadow stands
a small bush,
almost hidden
by nettles, grass,
and buttercups.
Here a pair of
Whitethroats

have their home. \\'hen any one approaches, the
hen quietly leaves her eggs and calls angrily, hurr,
kurr, her head- and throat-feathers being erected, and
her whole body showing signs of fear and anger. I
have watched the occupants of this bush without

VOU.N'G WHITETHRUATS

232 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

their knowing, their behaviour then being very dif-
erent. The scene was one of love and happiness.
The male would continually feed his mate with such
choice little pieces of food as he was able to find ;
the hen would return this affection with fluttering
and other prettily captivating signs of pleasure. Once

TKEE-PIPIT S NKST.

or twice during the day she would leave the nest,
when her companion would immediately take her
place. Not far from these Whitethroats is a Tree-
Pipit's nest. One of these would every now and
then alight on the little bush, presently to ascend to
about the height of the oak, singing loudly ; then,
with -outspread wings and calling see-ar, see-ar, see-ar,

BUTTERCUP MEADOW 233

he slowly descends until the bush is again reached.
In this way he spends the hours and days of spring,
breaking off in a song to look for food with which to
feed his brown mate in their neat little home skilfully
hidden in the grass.

The prevailing tint of Buttercup Meadow is, of
course, yellow. Besides buttercups there are dande-
lions with their larger discs, supplemented by paler
cow^slips, growing in clusters, mostly hidden by
buttercups. Trailing among the grass are patches
of bird's-foot trefoil with their 'butterfly' flowers of
brightest yellow. Before all of these flowered, when
spring w^as younger, the lesser celandine and primrose
brightened the hedge-banks and ditches with their
brilliant forms. The one with bright star-like petals
reminded many a passer-by that spring was near
at hand.

The meadow is full of life and music ; in the air
above, in the grass beneath, wherever one looks, there
is some show of joyous life. One becomes enchanted
with the quick-moving pageant of spring. , Lying
among buttercups I can take note of many varied
and charming growths ; and each new object or bird's
song appeals to one, until we are, as it were, trans-
fixed, It is hard to leave such a scene, so deeply
enchanting are its ever-fresh and ever-varying
characteristics.

On grass stems Whinchats swing to and fro and

234 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

cry titick-iitick : in the oak a merry Chiff-chaff calls ;
and Cuckoos cry from the orchard. A blue butterfly
settles on a flower to bathe its azure wings in the

sunshine ; a white
cloud floats be-
fore the sun, and
shadows fall for
a moment on
the meadow ; the
butterfly closes
its wings, and
becomes so like
its surroundings
that it is almost
lost sight of.
What a tiny thing
this butterfly is,
and yet how
perfectly formed
and marked! Al-
though so small,
it enjoys the
sun's warmth;
its wings are now
quickly opened again, and it floats away, happy and
free amongst its own lovely world of scented flowers.
Humble-bees hasten past ; one stops, returns, then
settles on a buttercup ; and, while extracting the sweet

NEST OF BULLFINCH.

BUTTERCUP MEADOW

235

pollen from the flower, the stem bends, and he tumbles
into the tangled grass ; humming loudly, he extracts
himself and flies away. Gaily-coloured beetles cross
the path, and are lost to sight in the thick grass.
From the hedgerow a Greenfinch has called many
times, and now he is feeding in the meadow. The

GREENFINCH S NEST.

Pipit continually soars and sings loudly, and above,
towards the blue sky, there is also harmony ; for high
up, near the clouds, the Lark still sings. Between
the Greenfinch's notes a Wryneck calls ; this now
leaves its nest in an old tree, settles in the meadow,
and is lost sight of among the flow^ers ; and Willow-

236 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

Wrens chime instead, and fill up the pauses in the
other music.

In the honeysuckle hedge a pair of Bullfinches have
their nest, and it is almost hidden by wild roses ; the
hen has just returned from the wood, and her mate,
having taken his time at sitting, now hails her return
by piping from the branches. A Kestrel floats out
from the wood, ' beats ' the meadow, then hovers ;
and shortly its mate appears, and they rise in rings,
each going in an opposite direction, until they appear
to be no bigger than Larks. Kingfishers pass like a
flash, skim over the hedge, and follow the stream.
Two Orange-tip butterflies, having strayed from the
woodside hedge, fl}^ round and round one another,
rise high in the air, and while one goes over the oak,
the other returns and flits along the hedge, just settles
on some red campion, and then floats over the wild
roses. A short distance down stream a rustic bridge
spans the banks, and there is evidence that a pair of
Pied Wagtails have their nest there ; for again and
again one of the birds passes, — shooting, as it were,
through the air with half-closed wings. Finches that
fly past have this same characteristic ; many will
settle, and their song-talk goes on in a never-
ending strain.

The Lark comes dow^n from the clouds and returns
to his mate and nest among the buttercups, but does
not stay long ; again he rises, singing as sweetly as

BUTTERCUP MEADOW

237

before. Missel-Thrushes have been repeatedly calling,
and they now lead out their young to teach them
how to find food for themselves. The old birds
discover the food, then show it with their beaks, and
the youngsters run forward quickly and devour it.
The Carrion-Crow, which for long has been in the

VOrXG SOXG-THRrSH.

old tree, now leaves his perch and enters the meadow

Yonder, far away over the farmhouse, are tiny
specks darting about ; these are Martins, many of
their nests being under the eaves. Great numbers
of Sparrows also build in the ivy growing on the

238 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

walls. Martins are usually shy of places where
Sparrows abound, — no doubt owing to the latter's
fondness for their nests. Swallows build in the barns
beyond, and they repeatedly fly to the lower meadow-
land and return later with supplies for their mates.
The snap of their beak can be heard when they catch
a fly, and often an insect can be seen flying swiftly
in order to dodge its pursuer.

Buttercup Meadow is full of tokens of love. Birds
caring for their young, others feeding their mates ,
Wood-Pigeons' notes, which themselves seem to
speak of love, ever and anon reach one from woodland
bowers. Finches' songs are really love-talk ; so also
are those of Willow-Wrens and twittering Swallows.
Reed-Buntings swinging on grass stems also utter
their love-songs ; while butterflies seem attracted to
the flowers by love. The varied petals, though only
flowers, are to me more than mere spring growths ;
they speak of happiness, and seem full of beautiful
spring. The whole meadow-land is overflowing with
joy ; the air is filled with the love-notes of birds.

But suddenly this harmony is broken. From the
direction of the Lark's nest there is a loud angry
note — Jiai'rr ! I spring up, and see that the nest has
been robbed by the Carrion-Crow. Round and round
flutters the smaller bird, uttering plaintive cries,
and when I reach the site she too flies away. There
were two broken eggs, another was smashed, one lay

BUTTERCUP MEx^DOW 239

outside, the other was gone. The Lark above has
stopped singing. Descending quickly, he settles in
another part of the meadow, his sorrowful mate flying
thence to join him.

I return still to rest among the buttercups.
Whinchats rest on flower stalks, and Swallows sail
overhead. Butterflies flit about, and humble-bees
buzz past. The Kingfishers return and dart down
the stream ; their gay colours look more sombre than
before. Finches call and twitter ; Willow-Wrens
utter their undulating notes ; but it seems as though
sadness now enters into their songs. Was it fancy,
or do the birds also know that, amid all this spring
sunshine in Buttercup Meadow, there had come
gloom ; for a pair of its most gay and hopeful inhabi-
tants were distressed by the spoliation of their little
home by an enemy which haunted the foliage and the
flowers ?

STAG BEETLE.

xvn

A Suburban Park

BIRDS very readily discover places where they
are protected. In one or two instances which
have come under my notice, a surprising and varied
number of species have taken up their abode in such
favoured spots. Although the birds in our suburban
park were, strictly speaking, not really protected,
no one was allowed to molest them to any great
extent, which amounted to much the same thing
as protection.

The Park itself consists of what may be described
as an extensive field, surrounded by a fringe of
ornamental trees. A border of thick bushes grew
at their base, and then there was a high untrimmed
hedge. Inside this wide circle one was completely
shut off from the outside world — the border being so
dense that nothing of the woods and fields beyond
could be seen. A stream ran through the park,
dividing the greensward into two fields in which
sheep and cattle were contentedly grazing. One or

A SUBURBAN PARK 241

two clusters of magnificent elms stood at different
points, and cows were reclining in the cooler air of
the shadows cast by the trees.

The grass in places slopes gradually to the green
bank of the stream ; in other parts the brook sides
are steep and covered with many flowers. A pair
of Kingfishers have their home here ; they can
be seen at certain times on their ' stands.' These
birds have favourite perches, and return to them
very punctually at the same time each day. Bull-
finches breed each year in the hedge surrounding
the park. It is just the kind of hedge they prefer,
being high and thick. Two Redstarts dodge here
and there, and have their nest near ; while Chiff-
chaffs call loudly from different points. A giant
tree still lies as it fell, having been blown down
some years ago during a winter storm. The bark
is now stripping, leaving bare white boughs, on
which Flycatchers sit between their eager excursion
flights after flies.

During last spring (1900) I had seen a pair of
Kestrels day after day, but was unable for some
time to discover their nest. Eventually I found that
they had appropriated a Crow's deserted nest, built
in an elm in this park. The nest was at the top
of one of the tallest trees in a group of six. It
had been unoccupied for two years ; probably
the Kestrels restored the work to some extent, as

242 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

it was in very good condition when they had

possession.

I was in the park one morning, photographing

a Tree-Sparrow's nest, and while focussing this I

heard strange
noises overhead.
Looking up-
ward, I saw one
of the Kestrels
and a Carrion
Crow fighting in
mid air over the
nest which the
Kestrels now
occupied, but
which at one
time belonged
to this now in-
censed Crow.
Each combatant
was endeavour-

H(.)]\IE OF THE KESTKEL.

ing to get above
the other by
ascending in circles. The Crow, in attacking, made
desperate attempts to strike at the Hawk. The
Kestrel, however, with far superior power of wing,
eluded these onslaughts, and got above his enemy.
Each time the Crow dashed at him, the Hawk made

A SUBURBAN PARK 243

a fine upward swoop, without any visible movement
of his wings. Now they were both low dow^n ; then
a few seconds later they were high up. The Kestrel
was leading the Crow, and waiting for a favourable
opportunity to strike. At last this came : the Hawk
had made a rapid upward swoop, the Crow was
following, when instantly the Hawk turned and
caught his opponent unawares. When one looks
on some panoramic scene there are always certain
things that attract more attention than others ; they
seem to live in the memory, and can always be re-
called to mind. It was so with this aerial combat.
The Kestrel stopped in his flight, turned, faced the
Crow, and then struck while the latter was coming
on. The Hawk was a picture of fierceness ; he
flapped his wings rapidly, with tail feathers spread
out and head bent forward, while his feet were raised
facing the Crow, the claws being ready for striking.
The Crow waited a moment and faced the Kestrel in
a similar way. It was a picture of fierce passions
having vent such as one seldom sees in Nature's
everyday life. The Hawk finally made another
majestic sweep downwards, then he was up again
above the Crow. All this time the angry Kestrel
was uttering defiant notes, check, check, while the
other responded in short and still harsher cries.
They got near and yet nearer to the nest, and at
last the fight was going on immediately overhead.

244 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

Upward went the Kestrel once more, higher and
higher, the Crow eagerly following ; but suddenly the
latter dropped like a stone towards the tree wherein
the nest was built. With angry cries the Kestrel
then followed, like a brown dart falling from the
clouds. But the Crow had reckoned without taking
account of his opponent's mate, which was guarding
the nest, so that when he neared the group of elms
the hen Kestrel dashed out to meet the enemy, who
was now between two fires. Acting on the principle
that discretion is the better part of valour, the
defeated Crow made his escape from his two furious
antagonists. Tlie hen returned to her nest, while her
mate sailed round and about the park, a harsh kraar
being heard, showing that the Crow^ was still watching
for his opportunity ; but I did not see any further
attack.

I am pleased to be able to say that the Kestrels
eggs were hatched, and the young were reared, and
gave me many hours' enjoyment in watching their
interesting actions. One attempt was made by
.some one to reach the nest and take the young, but
happily it proved unsuccessful. When the bird-spoiler
was half way up the high elm, a timely blizzard of
rain and wind came on. It was all the man could
do to hold on to the branches while the storm lasted ;
and when it ceased he descended, somewhat cowed,
and I hope a wiser man. I offered bribes to persons

A SUBURBAN PARK 245

who knew of the nest to prevent their taking the
young birds, and where bribes were ineffective I
reminded them of the Wild Birds' Protection Acts
and the penalties that would be inflicted if the
fledgelings were molested. Indebted both to threaten-
ings and bribes, the young Kestrels left their nest,
although then the new danger of powder and shot
threatened them. By further reminders of the laws
of P^ngland, the birds for many weeks lived in safety,
although I believe that two are now in a glass case
while one was trapped. The other I have not seen,
or been able to trace. The old birds still frequent
the park, and will, I hope, return to the nest this
spring.

I made many attempts to photograph these birds,
and waited in the park for three days, hoping to
do so. Most of this time was spent in hiding in
a tree, and in none too comfortable a position. It
was a long time to wait, and served no good purpose,
as I was unable to expose a single plate. However,
the time was not quite wasted ; for although I did
not get a picture, the Kestrels afforded much
entertainment. Perhaps the most interesting thing
was one of the parent Hawks giving lessons in flying
to the youngsters. x\ steady breeze was blowing
from the south-west ; the day was hot and almost
cloudless. The Kestrels were in one of the tallest
trees in the park, and at the top were some bare

246 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

branches, which made it better for observation. The
old Kestrel flew out facing the wind, then made a
wide half-circle to the opposite side of the tree, and
then sailed against the wind with outspread wings
and settled on the branch she had left. Then one of
the young would make a similar attempt, to succeed
tolerably well, until in trying to settle, it missed the
perch and had to circle round again as if to regain
confidence. Another young bird also tried to imitate
its daring comrade, but both missed their foothold
in a most amusing way. When at last these two
were successful, the others tried their best, and kept
on sailing against the wind until they were apparently
perfected in this practice. In the afternoon the flying
lesson was repeated ; but the young had so quickly
learnt this art that more tuition was hardly necessary.
The parents were constantly bringing food to their
young. I lost sight of the latter at times ; but
whenever the older birds returned one could easily
know of their whereabouts. Before the Kestrel with
the food could reach the tree in which the young
were, all four would fly forward to take the expected
meal, and would cluster round calling plee-e-e-e^
plee-ai% plee-ar, plee-ar, plee-ar, plee-ar. The first note
was slightly the longest, the others being rapidly
uttered. It is a musical cry, and can be heard at
a great distance. I think that plee-ar presents the
sound as near as it is possible to give bird language

A SUBURBAN PARK 247

on paper. I heard the notes many hundred times
during my long wait ; at times the young settled in
the very tree in which I was concealed.

When food was brought in the way described, the
young birds tried to take it from their mother while
on the wing ; but she always preferred to settle first.
Whether it was divided equally between all I cannot
say. It must be no small matter to collect supplies
for four hungry youngsters, such as any one who has
kept Hawks in confinement can testify the young
ones to be.

At all times the flight of Kestrels is particularly
graceful and buoyant, whether they are ' beating '
arable land, hovering over a meadow, or soaring.
The last is the most beautiful— and is even wonderful.
Day after day during one spring I was able to
watch two Kestrels going through this exercise.
It is necessary to watch a pair to see the soaring
performance to the best advantage. Two were
flying round about my home, when one commenced
to soar in small circles without any noticeable
movement of w ing ; the other joined, and went in an
opposite direction. I stood immediately underneath,
and so could observe the perfect spiral circles which
were made as they constantly crossed each other's
course. At last they were like dots in the sky and
were lost to view.

For many weeks, at three oclock in the afternoon

248 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

one of the Kestrels could al^^'ays be seen hovering
in the same place. Several times I waited with
my gun-camera among some fruit trees to try to
photograph the bird in the act of hovering. Once
I was able to get the image of the bird in the finder
of my gun-camera, and focussed it ; but before
exposure waited a second hoping to have a nearer
view ; instead the Kestrel got farther away, and
an opportunity did not occur again,

It is to be regretted that Kestrels are persecuted
in the w-ay they are by farmers and gamekeepers
who are ignorant of their habits. The number of
mice and grain-eating birds, such as Sparrows
and other Finches, which they destroy can hardly
be exaggerated ; and if they do sometimes take a
young chicken, surely they repay for the privilege
by the good they otherwise do. When other food
is plentiful I have proved that they will not molest
poultry. I procured two small white chickens — most
attractive from a Kestrel's standpoint — and then
allowed them to run about in the field when the
young Kestrels were leaving their nest, at the stage
when they require most food ; but although the old
Kestrels several times flew near to the lively white
birds they did not attempt to molest them. I left
them in the field for nearly thirty hours in all,
so that I think I had proof that Kestrels are not
such black birds as they are painted by unthinking

.EST DISCLOSED.

250 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

people. Underneath the tree in which they nested
were the remains of Sparrows and many other small
birds, and in their castings were the remains of mice
and beetles.

The Carrion-Crow that fought the Kestrel had a
nest near and brought up a brood, but 1 was unable
to find the site. If these came near the Kestrels
they were always driven away. A number of Missel-
Thrushes fed in the field, and often drove off the
Hawks if they came too close. Wood-Pigeons,
Spotted-Flycatchers, and Titmice bred near without
being touched ; so that, altogether, the park contained
a great variety of bird life.

I give here two photographs of a Great-Tit's nest
built in a very curious position. The flower-pot stood
at the side of a pathway in a garden on the boundary
of the park. Two eggs were laid, and then the birds
deserted it, owing to the pot being constantly lifted.
The whole of the space at the bottom of the inverted
pot was filled up with moss to the depth of about
two inches ; the diameter of this platform of moss
and hair was eight inches, but only a small cup-
shaped depression, measuring two and a half inches
across, was used for the nest proper. I have found
Tits' nests in a great variety of situations, but I think
this is the most remarkable.

What affection a bird has for a certain nesting
site is often noticed. In this park I have known

A SUBURBAN PARK

a pair of Tree-Sparrows to build in the same
crevice in a tree for ten years, and a photograph
is here reproduced of this site. Not many yards
away was another site chosen by one of the same
species, and this
has been used
yearly for the
same length of
time. \\'hen I
photographed
the latter the
young were just
leaving, and I
w^as able to ex-
pose a plate on
one of them. In
the park was
also another old
tree, with a long
horizontal hole
in one of the
branches ; this
too has con-
tained a Tree-Sparrow's nest for ten consecutive years
to my knowledge. Whether they are the same three
pairs of birds that have occupied these holes it would
be impossible to say. If not actually the same pair
year after year, they are probably descendants, or

SITE OF tree-sparrow's NEST, X = ENTRANCE.

252 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

most likely follow in the same lines as the L'ish wit's
celebrated cricket bat, which first had a new handle
and after a while a new blade, and was called by its
owner the same bat. If one bird is destroyed, or dies,

the one remain-
ing quickly gets
another com-
panion. In
Morris's British
Birds we read
of a Magpie that
had six mates
during one nest-
ing season ; one
after the other
these were de-
stroyed, the last
one sitting on
the eggs laid by
the first.

The Tree-
Sparrow can be
distinguished
from the House-
Sparrow at a distance by its habit of jerking its tail
sideways every few seconds ; and also by its note,
which is something like the House-Sparrow's, but
a little more refined ; both notes are difficult to put

YOUNG TREE-SPARROW AT ENTRANCE TO
NESTING-HOLE.

A SUBURBAN PARK 253

on paper. With a field-glass its red head serves to
distinguish it from the House-Sparrow. About April,
numbers of Tree-Sparrows haunt the arable land of
North London suburbs, and congregate with other
Finches. Their nests are fairly common in this
district, holes in pollarded willows being favourite
places. Before nesting operations begin, they roost
together in the bushes fringing a stream. I was
standing near these one evening in April, when one
settled within a yard, and stayed there for about
fifteen minutes. There was an uninterupted space
between us, and I thought it rather strange that it
should remain in such a position, but silence and
stillness will win the confidence of almost any wild
creature.

Tawny Owls breed in this favoured park ; no
egg-collector as yet having found their well-hidden
nesting-sites, nor do I think they will do so. The
young of each }xar are to be seen abroad at dusk,
soon after they leave their nest. INIost country
dwellers are familiar with the musical hoot of these
Owls. It is very easy to imitate by clasping the two
hands together, and b}' blowing into them between
the thumbs. I was in the park one evening, and
called the whole family to within a few yards of me
in this way. One of the young birds, more
inquisitive than the rest, came quite close, and had it
not been for the warning cry of its elders, which spied

254 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

me in hiding, I believe it would have come quite up
to me. Some of our wildest birds can be attracted by
imitating their calls. Naturalists are aware of the
wary habits of the Lapwing in the nesting season, yet
I have called even one of these within photographing
distance by imitating its call-note— /^^-z£//V. Each
call was answered by me in the same way as the bird
called. Sometimes it only cried pce-e-e, then gave a
lengthened /t'^-^-^-zc/V. Every time I answered it ran
a few yards nearer, and then stood perfectly still and
listened. If there had not been a long, but narrow
pond separating us, the bird might have approached
even up to the thick hedge in which I was concealed.
Another Lapwingjoined in ; and both seemed terribly
surprised when I jumped up and showed myself. A
very short period of time then sufficed to separate us
by a mile or so. My feathered friends were evidently
suffering from that uncomfortable feeling of having
been ' done.'

XVJII
Nature on the Kent Coast

ON its eastern horizon the December morning
sky is ablaze with an increasing redness. A
ray of deep crimson rises from behind the foam-lashed
sea, and then the red orb of the rising sun seems to
rise out of the waves. The line of red increases to a
broad band of a deeper colour, widening as it touches
the shore, and ending with a halo round the sun.
The whole surface of the sea is now tinted with red,
producing a beautiful effect. The waves in the path
of the sun are most wonderful to look at, for when
the furious wind drives them on the black rocks, their
spray seems to be turned into blood, while the water
is forced high up on the shingle to fade into a paler
colour, until it falls back and is caught by another
crimson wave.

Black - headed Gulls, clothed in their winter
plumage, slowly sailing in the teeth of the gale,
have their snow-white plumage transformed into the
prevailing tint ; fishing-boats also assume the same

256 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

colour. The few clouds above now have the deep

red reflected on their ever-changing forms. Slowly

the sun rises, soon to be concealed among a mass
of drifting clouds.

BLACK-HEADED GULLS (WINTER PLUMAGE).

At a given signal, as it were, the whole appearance
of the water is now changed. The spray is again
white ; the waves are again green, except near the
clear horizon, where they remain red. With a seeming
rush, three gigantic beams of carmine shoot from
behind the lowest clouds and travel over the sky. In
a moment they too have gone, and the sun reappears,

NATURE ON THE KENT COxAST 257

bathed in a mist of brightest yellow. The crimson
has gone, and we look upon a sea of gold. Clouds
float away from before the sun, and in a few minutes
the sea, sky, and land present the ordinary outlook of
a cold December morning.

The tide is going out, and a Pied-Wagtail is busily
running about the fringe of seaweed left at high-water
mark. Food is so plentiful that he cannot spare time
to notice intruders, and I am thus able to get quite

A FLIGHT ROrXD.
BLACK-HEADED GULLS (WINTER PLL^L\GE).

close. On the low grass-covered chalk cliffs a Rock-
Pipit is calling pcct, peet. After a long search with
a field-glass I can just see this before it leaves the
cliff for the water's edge. Many of the small rocks
are uncovered ; between them are patches of sand
sparingly covered with shells and various-sized stones.
Little pools containing shrimps, crabs, and other kinds
of fish lie here and there among the rocks. Green-

2s8 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

finches and Sparrows, which have been waiting on

the cUffs, now fly to the
sand to feed. Finches
are now in their gayest
plumage, some of the
males being extremely
handsome, and vie with
Stonechats in showing
the brightest feathers
of any birds of the
coast.

Black-headed Gulls
are ' beating ' up and
down the shore just
waves ; larger Herring-Gulls
are standing on the sand. A Common Gull in
the mottled plumage of its first year picks up a
small starfish, and instead of eating this where it
was found, flies to a more secluded spot. Others
follow and try to take the food away, all calling
squeet, squeet ; but the owner, amid the noise and
confusion, gets clear away, and flies over the Herring-
Gulls. One of the latter quickly gives chase, and
soon overtakes the smaller bird. The two circle
round and round, hardly taking the slightest notice
where they go ; sometimes they are close to me, then
high up overhead. The Black-headed Gull makes a
dart downwards, and while so doing the Herring-Gull

A NECK-AND-NECK RACE.
BLACK-HEADED GULLS.

above the breaking

NATURE ON THE KENT COAST 259

snatches the starfish from its beak and descends to
the sand, and leisurely
enjoys its stolen re-
past. Wherever many
Gulls are together
there is always much
fighting-, the larger
and stronger birds
feeding at the ex-
pense of the smaller.

The chalk cliffs rise
higher as I walk along
the beach. In places

GOING DOWN' WIND.
BLACK-HEADED GULLS.

where the water
touches, they are fast

wearing and falling. A green growth shows the
height to which the sea reaches. Here are several
small caves, which are filled with water at high tide ;
while great blocks of chalk above them look as if
a touch would bring them down ; but such is not the
case — they are all firmly fixed. The rocks nearest
the cliffs are covered with green seaweed ; those a
little distance out are black ; while those near low-
water-mark are brown. In the pools, seaweeds of
many beautiful forms and colours can be found ; but
when taken from the water they resemble so many
pieces of mere wet rag. It seems to me that these
lovely things should have a better name than seaweed.

26o WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

The heaps of what some people call rubbish on the
seashore really contain some of the most beautiful
and instructive growths. There are small bunches
of seaweed of the most delightful and delicate tints :
white, brown, and green fern-shaped stems as fine as
feathers ; transparent pieces resembling the various
shapes of a piece of coral ; lovely red streamers of
hair-like textures ; and a hundred other varieties.
Some are fixed to shells or pieces of stones. Those
in the larger pools are the best, for their shapes are
shown to perfection, as they branch out from the
rocks and float in the crystal water.

' Call us not Weeds — we are flowers of the Sea ;
For lovely, and bright, and gay-tinted are we ;
Our blush is as deep as the rose of thy bowers :
Then call us not Weeds— we are Ocean's gay Flowers.'

' Not nursed like the plants of a summer parterre,
When gales are but sighs of an evening air ;
Our exquisite, fragile, and delicate forms
Are nursed by the ocean and rocked by its storms.'

Flocks of shore birds are flying in a southerly
direction along the beach ; a few miles away the cliffs
give place to a far- extending flat sandy shore, leading
on to marshy fields and reed-bordered meadows.
When one reaches this expanse it is to look upon
a busy scene. The whole of this extensive marsh
is dotted with hundreds of birds. It is almost
impossible to get near them, the weather not being

262 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

frosty and food being plentiful. However, many
large flocks pass quite near overhead, and they fly
towards the distant water, the tide to-day having
gone out for at least a mile.

A wedge-shaped flock of Ducks come along the
shore ; I thought they would settle, but instead of
doing that they fly steadily onward, and as they near
me the leader drops behind and one of the others
takes his place. There is a swish of wings as twenty
Curlew dash past ; they fly low down in single file,
and alight near a large flock of Dunlin. The latter
rise all together, after the manner of Starlings, and
fly round in a large circle. As they turn, their white
undersides gleam in the sun, and they drop to the
sand, and in so doing they from a distance appear like
hundreds of pieces of white paper floating dow^n.

Redshanks are uttering their musical whistle as
they run round and about the pools ; the Curlew^s
enter the water and probe for food with their long
sensitive beaks. With a field-glass I can distinctly
see all their movements. Some of the birds so much
resemble the sand in colour that they are not seen
until the shallow water near which they feed shows
their reflection. Several Cormorants fly across the
bay, and are followed by more Ducks. The numerous
Gulls feeding in this mixed colony are the most
noisy and quarrelsome ; for whenever one obtains
food, others invariably attack the finder and take

BLACK-HEADED GULL HOVERIIsG.

NATURE ON THE KENT COAST 263

away the prize. The thousands of birds here devour

anenormous

amount of food

at each fall of the

tide. Lug-worms

have thrown up

their castings all

over the sand ;

there must be

millions here.

This is the worm

that fishermen

use so much for

bait. It is not very handsome to look at when dug

out of the sand ; but if placed in a bottle of clear

water we see the differ-
ence. Its sides have
a number of purple
and red tufts ; these
are its gills, with which
it is supplied with
oxygen from the
water. The tunnel
which the creature
makes is full of interest.
The worm secretes a
sticky substance with
This hardens the sides

BLACK-HEADED GULLS LEAVING THE WATEJ?

which to line its borings.

264 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

of the tunnel, which will sometimes descend to a
considerable distance below the surface. On each
side of the lug-worm are several pairs of bristle-like
feet ; these serve as a fulcrum to aid it in making
its tunnel.

I walk across the sand to the water ; the whole
surface, which is flooded at high tide, is now
covered with birds' footprints, and the smaller marks

BLACK-HEADED CULLS (\VL\TER PLUMAGE'* WALriNG FOR BREAKFAST.

made by Dunlins predominate. There is also a
great number of Redshanks', Gulls', and Curlews'
footsteps. The sea is calmer and the wind is
dropping ; but, notwithstanding, each wave is driven
a long way over the level sand. As the water runs
back some of the Redshanks follow, and then dart
quickly inland again when another wave breaks over
the sand. The little Dunlins, however, are the most

NATURE ON THE KENT COAST 265

graceful in their actions ; they run here and there
rapidly, then jump up and skim over a breaking
wave, looking like a handful of lighter spray. From
a distance the birds might be supposed to form part
of the drifting foam.

The day wears on, and the sun in the clear

BLACK-HEADED GULLS (WINTER PLU.MAGE).

December sky has begun to sink towards the deep
green meadows, and the tide is returning. Curlews
and Redshanks, giving out their clear whistles, are
driven closer to the fields. One by one the flocks
of snowy-breasted Dunlins fly along the coast, and
are presently lost to sight. The larger birds are
leaving, and as the sand beach becomes smaller only

266 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

a few noisy Gulls are left : and presently these, too,
at last go off, and the deep, moaning sea again slowly
creeps up to the grassy banks of the meadows. Far
out from land there is a bird on the water ; it dives
and comes up closer to the shore ; then again it goes

FLYING AGAINST THE WIND.
BI.ACK-HEADED GULLS (WINTER I'LUMAGE).

under, and I becjin to think it will not acrain show
itself nearer, as it remains out of sight so long.
However, it rises only about one hundred yards
away, and I think it is the Red-necked Grebe, but
it does not stay long enough for me to make sure
on this point. Some Gulls are gracefully riding on
the rolling waves, waiting and watching for food.

NATURE ON THE KENT COAST 267

With the faihng h"ght Ducks, flying in pairs, drop
to the saltings in the fields ; they are a long distance
down the shore, and it is impossible to approach them.

When the sun has completed his course a grey
cold mist drifts from the sea, and passes over the
marshy ground, seeming to penetrate to our bones.
The tall dry grasses rustle ominously as it passes,
and a bird is startled from the reeds as I walk by.
W^ith a swish it is gone. Some Meadow-Pipits call
their plaintive iveet, zveet, but I cannot see them. As
the cold green waves come over the shore, they seem
to have a deeper note than when the sun shone on
them ; perhaps it is because their deep toning is the
only sound now to be heard. In this dull twilight
objects look twice their real size. Thus a small Gull
flying by is at first mistaken for a Heron, and some
of the objects on land look remarkable. The day
dies quickly, and as if sadly, in December ; but,
although it becomes dark during my walk homewards,
many interesting bird-land sounds are still heard.
Curlews are whistling, and I hear many other notes
of night-feeding birds, all of which sound strange,
or even weird, when one is walking alone on this
wild Kent coast at nia;ht.

XIX
A Plea for the Birds

THE imprisoned Sky-Lark looked through the
bars of his cage over a garden enlivened
with spring flowers. Beyond the honeysuckle hedge
were fields yellow with buttercups, and scented with
the aroma of meadow-grass. Still farther on there
stretched a valley which resounded with bird songs.

All through the livelong spring day Larks in the
meadows poured out their notes, — and all this time
the caged bird was a listener. Many times he tried
to beat away the wire with his feeble wings ; often
he endeavoured to soar, only to find how the ugly
prison roof of his cage checked such aspirations. A
dozen times a Lark near the garden ascended to the
clouds and returned to his nest ; and once only did
the caged bird attempt to answer. Only a few
notes were given, and these were so unutterably sad,
so pleading and pathetic, that I knew he was thinking
of his little nest in a meadow near which he had
been caught. The innocent bird could not under-

A PLEA FOR THE BIRDS

269

stand why he should be deprived of the liberty he
loved and longed for so ardently.

HEDGE-SPARROW FEEDING YOUNG.

Soon after midday the sunbeams made his cage
brighter, and again there was a flutter and a struggle
to reach the wide expanse of blue above ; but after

270 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

beating the wires and trying to squeeze through the
bars, he settled down on the floor of the cage panting,
and listened to the songs of birds which were abroad
in the free open air.

It is now evening, and the sun is seeming to touch
the distant ridge of pines. The most beautiful part
of a sunset is when the great ball has sunk behind
distant trees. The sky nearest the horizon is green,
above which is a long cloud graduating to a point
in the north : the upper side is nearly black, under-
neath it shows deepest crimson ; small patches drift
from the northerly point, and keep their colour for
some minutes. Higher up, divided by another band
of green, is a similar cloud partly hidden by floating
balls of fleecy yellow vapour, and above these is the
sky, its blue being made deeper by contrast with
the crimson.

The scene changes. More clouds pass across the
west, showing different colours. Plve large dark
beams shoot upwards from openings in a lower cloud
and glide over many lovely tints. If possible some
of the crimson clouds are turned into a deeper red,
and now have a lining of coppery-gold. Orange tints
take the place of others, and all move slowly past
in one grand pageant. In the north is a great red
glare, and this moves round to the east. A Wild
Duck, flying fast, goes by, and some straggling
Rooks are also going homewards. However striking

A PLEA FOR THE BIRDS 271

a sunset may be, it is never complete to me without
the additional charm which hom.e-returning birds
add to it. Before the last of these have come and
gone the colours fade and turn to grey.

The caged Lark had been looking out on this
declining spring day. It flew angrily about the small
cage, then uttered a plaintive cry, once more fluttered
to the roof, and fell to the floor of its prison home.
This time it was dead !

I thought of the little nest hidden among the
daisies in the meadow, and the bright buttercups and
other flowers growing there. I remembered the blue
sky and the bird that sang there. My thoughts went
back to that first day of spring, when Sky-Larks with
their loving songs seemed to awake all things to a
knowledge of returning life. This bird, w^hich had
been cruelly worried to death by an unnatural
captivity, had told many people that spring had
come ; yet, in preference to being reconciled to prison
life, it had died, and would thus no more herald the
rising sun, or soar towards the blue sky amid the
surroundings of Nature which had been loved so well.

Such a fate is practically what happens every year
to large numbers of our sweetest song birds ; but
people still encourage prowling bird-catchers by
buying English-caught singers.

During the month of May the woods are as a rule
full of wild-bird harmony, but in a certain Surrey

272 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

game preserve I visited there was hardly a note to
be heard. There was a rare stock of Pheasants, but,
with the exception of a soHtary Bullfinch which piped
from a thorn hedge, there were few other birds to be
seen. The Warblers had been frightened from the
wood by too frequent reports of the keepers' guns.
All birds had been shot that were likely to interfere
with the production of game, as well as many others
which were quite innocent of any egg-stealing.
Surely this is carrying game preserving more than
a little too far ! But happily such instances are few.
The greater number of the woods in which Pheasants
are bred are so strictly looked after in regard to
trespassers, that thousands of the smaller species of
birds are able to build and to rear their young
quite unmolested. I was sorry to see a wood which
was so thickly stocked with game so empty of other
bird life. It could only be through the ignorance
of keepers that such a thing would occur. There are
some foolish, or rather ignorant, gamekeepers who
will destroy numbers of Finches, Woodpeckers, Tit-
mice, etc., for no intelligible reason. Fortunately,
however, the head-keepers are now beginning to find
out that to allow Hawks and Owls in moderation in
their coverts really does more good than harm.
Especially is this found to be the case in Hertford-
shire. During a recent visit I was pleased to see that
numbers of Barn-Owls were about after dusk. One

A PLEA FOR THE BIRDS 273

of these useful birds flew immediately over a keeper
who carried a loaded gun, and although a tempting
shot, no attempt was made to destroy it.

In the more wild country lanes and open fields
birds are able to breed unmolested year after year.
It is near large towns that the destruction of bird
life complained of goes on. Round and about my
own home it is really pitiable to notice what a struggle
even commoner-place birds have to keep up in order
to rear their young. It is no exaggeration to say
that only one in twenty of the nests which come
under my notice during each season are allowed to
remain until the young are able to fly. The first
clutches of eggs of nearly every nest built in many
miles of hedges are always taken, and so likewise are
the second laying ; if the eggs do happen to escape
notice, the young birds are taken, and I have known
boys visit nests each morning, until the young are
just ready to fly, and then take them, nest and all,
and sell them to London dealers for a few pence.
Numbers of young Garden-Warblers, Nightingales,
Thrushes, Sky-Larks and Blackbirds are in this way
taken away from their native fields to die a miserable
death in the shops of London bird dealers. At the
end of June and beginning of Jul}', I often find
many new nests, — and these belong to birds which have
been robbed earlier in the season ; this is their last
chance, and is mostly successful, as the loafers and

274 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

boys who ' work ' the hedges usually give up their
practice in June.

Losing their eggs and young in this shameful way
is not the only danger which common birds have to
incur. On Sunday mornings bird-catchers come from
London with decoy birds in trap cages. These are
placed near the nest of a Chaffinch, a Nightingale, or
one corresponding to the species of the decoy bird ;
and in this way our best song birds are being gradually
driven farther from London. When there are young
in the nests, these are either taken or left to starve ;
often they are put on the ground and pounded to
death with stones. I have actually found these men
catching birds in this w^ay within sight of two
notice-boards setting forth the provisions and penalties
of the Wild Birds Protection Act.

In our Northern Suburb we have a comparatively
short but very charming brook. During each nesting
season a pair of Kingfishers take up their quarters on
this stream. Every winter, for as many years as I
remember, bird-catchers come to this brook and have
caught these lovely birds. A few^ weeks ago the
Kingfishers, which are pictured in this volume, were
caught in a net placed across the stream. I did all I
could to protect them, but single-handed this is no
easy matter, as one cannot ahvays be watching. I
found the net just too late to save the birds' lives, and
I was hoping they would be unmolested, but such

CHAFFINCH S NEST.

276 WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

was not the case. The men got away with the birds,
and the interesting Kingfishers will not be seen on
the banks of this brook for some time to come, or
until another pair arrive next spring. It almost
makes me wish they would not come ; for I know
the fate that awaits them.

I consider that such persistent extermination of a
species that is far from common, is a disgrace to the
county. It could readily be stopped if the authorities
were more vigilant and m.ore firm in punishing
offenders. One or two local gentlemen are making
strenuous efforts to stop this bird-catching ; but one
asked me what was he to do when even the nests in his
garden were found and robbed ? A police-constable
in plain clothes, in every parish in the outer suburbs
should be appointed as a guardian of the birds.

A Kestrel is soaring outside the window while I
write ; he is before a background of dark woodland,
and the winter sun brings out the beautiful markings
and hues of his feathers to perfection. I am doing
my best to protect this useful bird ; but on every
occasion that I look upon him I fear it is for the
last time.

With the exception of the Kingfishers I have only
referred to the destruction of our common birds. In
regard to the rarer kinds of breeding birds, I have
found during my short experience that it will not
only be a shame but an irreparable loss if their eggs

A PLEA FOR THE BIRDS 277

should continue to be so persistently taken. In an
uncivilised country birds on the whole enjoy a
glorious kind of freedom, but in these advanced
Islands, where they are supposed to be protected,
their lot is truly a shameful one. The Wild Birds
Protection Act is a dead letter as far as all the more
rare birds are concerned. With the exception of
those privately protected — as for example in certain
northern breeding haunts of sea-birds — the eggs of
scarce kinds are systematically taken year after year,
or until the birds become extinct, or almost so, as a
breeding species. Something practical ought to be
done by Parliament on behalf of the Nation. Merely
posting up printed notices in fields, at railway
stations, and in other places, is altogether very
ineffective. Indeed, many of the kinds mentioned
need no protection, and others are never likely to
be seen again in the districts where such notices are
placed. One cannot severely blame those who take
the eggs : for these are in many cases mere poor
rustics, to whom the large reward offered by collectors
is a windfall. Some of the marauders do not even
know that there is a law forbidding them to take
the eggs.

Certain professional naturalists and their agents
are the chief offenders. I heard of one dealer who
wrote to a man living near one of the haunts of that
now most rare British-breeding species — the Kentish

^7^ WOODLAND, FIELD, AND SHORE

Plover, — offering a substantial sum for every clutch
of these eggs that the fisherman might be able to
send. When it is realised that only about twenty-five
pairs of these Plovers breed in the whole of England
during each year, and that this man would have been
able to discover nearly every nest, he acted right nobly
when he refused to respond in any sense to the
proposal. A more unscrupulous person might have
realised a good sum of money at the cost of helping
to drive away these rare birds from almost their last
breeding haunt.

If dealers and collectors will still continue to offer
sums of money which tempt the simple country folk
to do wrong, it is not surprising that a dozen or more
of our rarest species of birds are ceasing to build and
breed in the country. If the present state of things
continues, only a few years will need to pass and then
some of the most charming birds which were once
common will cease to be seen or heard in England.
Is this not a thing to be averted ?

In the event of Parliament declining to interfere, I
would like to see our British ornithologists, and all
other bird-lovers, combine to form a society for the
protection of these rarer birds to which I refer. For
an inconsiderable sum of money reliable watchers
could be sent to the nesting grounds of at least
twenty of the rarest species. If publicity was given
to such a proposal, I am sure subscriptions would be

A PLEA FOR THE BIRDS

279

forthcoming from English naturalists and from private
persons. Birds are quick in finding that they are
protected, so that the good result would soon be seen.
In the meantime, I appeal to all landowners, and
bird-lovers throughout the country, to do w^hat they
can for the feathered species, and to remember that it
is the birds which largely make the lanes, woods, and
fields of this country of ours what they are. The
charms of Nature will decline in proportion as the
birds are diminished.

ITTLE TERN SITTING.

INDEX

Autumn in Bird-land

Back-stays
Bird-catchers .
Birdsfoot Trefoil .
Birds, affection for homes
,, and camera .
,, destruction of

extermination of .
,, feeding

,, ,, on sea-shore

, , , , in winter .

killing young
in London .
, , in orchard .

Birds in the Snow

Blackbird

Blackbird's singing

Blackcap's song

Black-headed Gulls

Bluebells

Blue Tit, bravery of

,, Tit's note
Bracken, beauty of.
Bullfinch
Bush Vetch .
Buttercup Meadow .
Butterfly, Common Blue
,, Orange-Tip .

Painted Lady
, , Peacock

Red Admiral .

Tortoiseshell .

Carrion Crow's note
Chickweed
Cirl Bunting .
Coal Tit.
Common Tern

>AGE

142

28
274
184
162
151
273
276

64
262
164
100

93
149
158

2, 258

117

14s

6, 236

184

227

132

120

132

189

145

Cottages, old .

Covenanters .

Cuckoo ....
and Greenfinch .
,, and Pied Wagtail
,, and young.

Cuckoo's egg .
,, note

Dabchick
Dorset hill, A.
lanes .
Duck shooting
Dunlin ....

PAGE

100

lOI

103
102

215
T-37
133

37
262, 264

Early morning in a wood
Early Spring in a Middle

sex Wood.
Eggs laid on stones
Electric shutters
Enfield Chase . . 165,

Exposures

Fieldfare
Fieldfare's note
Field glasses .

,, mice
Fishermen's children and eggs
Fox
Fruit blossom .

Game preserving .
Garden Warbler

Warbler's nest
Goldcre.st's nest
r;ote
Goldfinch

feeding .
photographing nest

225

229

57
59
24
88

129

272
80

115
108
60
173
179
175

28Q

INDEX

281

PAGE

Goldfinch's song- .

181

:Magpie .... 146, 252

Goldfinches, catching

178

Meadow Pipit's note

Great Tit

250

Middlesex Brook, A

197

Greenfinch

235

Copse, A .

165

Green Plover .

Military Camp

Gun

Missel Thrushes and voung

237

Gun -cam era .

Mole . . . ' .
Moor-hen and young

91
94

Hares

125

Moor-hens, habits of

214

Harvest time in Hert-

,, roosting nests

212

fordshire

121

Murderous millinery

230

Hertfordshire hamlet, A

122

lanes

123

Nature ox the Kex'i

by night .

129

Coast

255

sunset, A

127

Nature's gifts .

Hips and haws

secrets

196

Hoar-frost

Night photography

Humble Bee .

Nightingale's habits
home

226
223

Jackdaw's note
Jay . . .
Jolly Fisherman

67
192

song.
Nightjar.
Nightjar's flight
Norfolk Plover

224
168
171

Kentish Plover . 28,

Plover's eggs
Kestrel .

38, 43
90

278

41
241

Plover's eggs .
,, ,, note
Nuthatch's note

118

and Crow .

242

Partridges

125

, , soaring

247

Passing of Wixter, The

56
t

103

268

and young .
Kestrel's nest
note
Kingfisher

Kingfishers, destruction
and food
kiUing fish

of '.

245
244
246
202

274
210

Photographing in diflficul

positions .
Photographing in trees .
Pied Wagtail .
Plates ....
Plea for the Birds, A

211

Pneumatic Tube .

17
86

, , photograph

Primrose

204

208

,, in winter

Rabbits ....
and Weasel

68
70

Lapwing

Reaping Machine and Birds

125

attracting

254

Red-necked Grebe .

266

Late September in

DOR-

Redpoll . . . .

107

SETSHIRE .

131

, , engaging habits of

Lenses .

Redpoll's note

Lighthouses .

Redshank

Lilliput .

Redshank's note .

134

Little Grebe .

215

Redwing

,, Tern .

Reed-Bunting

228

,, Tern's eggs .

Ringed Plover

,, Terns, photographing .

Robins ....

152

Lug-worm

263

,, fighting

153

282

INDEX

PAGE

Robins and food

15s

Suburban Park, A

240

,, nest .

Sunrise off coast .

255

Rock-Pipit ....

257

Sunset ....

270

Rook's note ....

Surrey common, beauty of

183

Rook's Parliament .

Round and about a Sur-

Taw^ny Owl .

253

BURBAN Orchard. Part

Telegraph wires and birds

I., Sprhtg ....

Terns, colony of .

Round and about a Sur-

and Herrin; Gull

.46

burban Orchard. Part

Thiush and Snail .

II., Sumvier

photographing .

160

Round and about a Surrey

Thunder-storm at night .

219

Common . .

182

Titmice and Insects

116

in winter .

157

Salad Burnet

184

Tree-Creeper .

113

Sand-Martins ....

139

Tree-Pipit

232

Sea-Swallows . . . • .

Tree-Sparrows

251

Seaweed ....

260

Turtle-Dove . . .11

5, 192

Shingle-beach

Shrew

Violets ....

Shutter, Focal-plane

Time and Inst. .

Water-Vole . . .

198

Skylark

105

Weasel ....

in cage

268

Wheatear

photographing .

106

Whitethroat ...

231

shooting at

107

Wild Birds Protection Acts

277

and spring.

Willow-Wren . . 8

4. no

Skylark's nest robbed .

238

young

III

Snipe

Woodcock

Some Birds of the Shore .

Woodland Scene in June

Sparrows roosting .

147

A . . . .

Sparrow-Hawk

122

Woodpeckers

74- 85

Sport, love for . . .

Woodpecker's tongue

Spring .....

Wood-Pigeon's nest

166

Squirrels at play

146

Wood Warbler

185

Starlings . . 63, 137

158

Warbler's song .

188

imitating bird notes.

134

Woody Nightshade

184

Stonechat ....

193

Wren ....

Stone-Curlew ....

,, and Swallow

168

Struggle for existence

Summer Night in the

Yellow-Hammer's note .

124

Woods, A .

217

Yellow Wagtail

134

Printed by Hasell, Watson, &= Fincy, Ld., London and Aylesbury.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

SECOND EDITION.
A Book for NATURALISTS, PHOTOGRAPHERS, and ths General Reader.

Croivn Sc'O, cloth gilt, 280 pp., ds.

In Bird=Land with
Field=Qlass and Camera.

Illiisiraled with a Photogravure Frontispiece and 82 Photographs of

Birds, Nests, Eggs, and Young in their Natural situations and

surroundings, from photographs by the Author.

THE SCOTSMAN.

' There are some charming pictures here of cosy, well-hidden nests of young
fledglings snap-shotted in interesting positions, and of bird-life in general. . . .
'J he book as a whole is calculated to fulfil the object of the writer, to add a new
phase to the enjoyment of the lover of nature, and especially of the lover of birds,
and to apply the camera to a comparatively new field. It is a book which no one
with any sympathy with country life will fail to enjoy.'

LLOYD'S NEWS.

'To lovers of birds — indeed, to all who have any love for animals — this book
will be a delight. Mr. Pike has seen the feathered things as they live their lives
when unconscious that they are watched, and has recorded his experiences in a
fresh and attractive style that reminds one of that lost nature-lover, Richard
Jefferies. . . . The volume is not only a valuable contribution to natural history,
but one that affords high entertainment for the general reader.'

AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER.
'Written in that pleasant style which made Mr. Jesse's works so popular fifty
years ago, and with the rare advantage of being illustrated with over eighty
photographs. . . . All photographers who are interested in wild birds should
obtain Mr. Pike's charming and also practical book, and in complimenting the
author on his remarkable success in photographing difficult subjects, we hardly
know what to select for special mention."

ST, JAMES'S GAZETTE.
'His photographs will delight everyone who has ever birds-nested. . . . To
have obtained a picture of a Montagu Harrier's nest, too, is something of an
achievement, since this harrier is only an occasional visitor to England. "In
Bird-Land" is a charming book ; we hope Mr. Pike is still getting up before the
sun and standing about in the rain, so that he may soon give us another like it.'

THE CITY PRESS.

' Beyond all question this is one of the most charming works of its class that
we have had the fortune to meet with for a long while, its author is a true lover
of bird life, and has for years made a study of the habits of the feathered songsters
that are more or less familiar to all of us. In addition, he is gifted with a facile
pen, and his pages give us a glimpse of natural history that is only seldom to be
enjoyed.'

THE ECHO.

' This is really one of the most delightful books that we have read for many a
day— a book that ro lover of the throbbing and melodious life of field and woodland
could resist, having once dipped into its paees.'

London: T. FISHER UNWIN, Paternoster Square, E.G.

Advertisements of Interest to Bird Phototirapfiers.

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Mr. OLIVER PIKE, the Author of this book, says that lie has
oblamed perfect negatives of birds flying with the

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BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY

3^9999 06563 713 2

Boston Public Library
Central Library, Copley Square

Division of
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The Date Due Card in the pocket indi-
cates the date on or before which thjs
hook should be returned to the Library,

Please do not remove cards from this
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