English bird life

iteNGU3H

IP Bird lifr

><

SYH- KNIGHT

LIBRARY OF THE

/VV FOR THE -<<\

^ PEOPLE ^

<r FOR ^

^ EDVCATION O

C^ FOR . ■'

O SCIENCE ^

V

^%7V^^^

ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

LOXG-EARED OWL WITH FIELD-MOUSE

English Bird Life

H. KNIGHT HORSFIELD

MEMBER OF THE BRITISH ORNITHOLOGISTS' UNION,

.AUTHOR OF 'in the GUN-ROOM,'

ETC., ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY OVER ONE HUNDRED PHOTOGRAPHS
FROM NATURE

T. A. METCALFE AND OTHERS

LONDON

EVERETT & CO.

42 ESSEX STREET, STRAND

TO

N RECOGNITION OF ASSISTANCE AND ADVICE

NOTE

*' And the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England now."

In these pages I have tried to picture something of the Bird
Life in England to-day. At times I have followed the travellers
far afield : to the Scottish Highlands, to Norway, and even to the
ttmdras of Siberia. But my chief aim has been to show in their
haunts and homes : in the woodlands, fields and moorlands : by
river, lake and sea, something of the life of the birds of our own
country : the birds in England, now.

The photographs used as illustrations represent the work of
years spent in observation. In many cases they show phases of
bird-life rarely to be witnessed, and have been obtained under
conditions which may never recur.

CONTENTS

Diurnal Birds of Prey
Birds of the Night
Birds of the Homestead
Birds of the Woodlands
Thrushes

TREE-CLniBING BiRDS

Finches

Crows

Doves

Pheasants and Woodcock

Snipe

Birds of the Field

Birds of the Heath and Common

Birds of the Moorland

Birds of the River

Swallows

Birds of the Marsh and Lake

Birds of the Shores and Mud-flats

Birds of the Sea .

xi

17

37

57
123
140
173
>93
226
236
249
256

313
335
363
379
416

435

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

LOXG-EARED OwL WITH FlELD-MOUSE {Frontispiece)

Kestrel .....

Young Kestrels, Five Weeks Old, in Nest

Merlin on Nest ....

Young Merlin ....

The Haunt of the Merlin

Young Tawny Owls

Young Long-eared Owl . '. .

Barn Owl .....

Nightjar on Nest ....

Young Nightjar Twelve Days Old

Starling at Nesting Hole in Apple-tree

House-Sparrow ....

Hedge-Sparrow on Nest .

Cock 'Redstart at Nesting Hole

Hen Redstart at Nesting Hole .

Whitethroat feeding Young

Lesser Whitethroat on Nest

Garden Warbler on Nest

Wood Warbler at Nest '.

Willow Warbler ....

Unusual Site for a Willow Warbler's Nest —

in a Brick Wall Five Feet from the Ground 89
Nest of Golden-crested Wren — cut from Branch

and placed on the Ground . . .96

xiii

II
II

rS

24
27
32

IS
4i
47
47
66

67
71
75
79
83
83

XIV

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Young Red-backeu Shrikes

Spotted Flycatcher on Nest

Young Spotted Flycatchers

Pied Flycatcher at Nesting Hole

Cuckoo Two Days Old ejecting a Young

Meadow Pipit
Cuckoo Five Days Old, having just ejected

Young Meadow Pipit and Egg
Young Cuckoo

Tree Pipit feeding Young Cuckoo
Mistle Thrush feeding Young .
Fieldfare ....
Young Song Thrushes
The Haunt of the Woodpecker .
Green Woodpecker feeding Young at Nesting

Hole

Great Spotted Woodpecker at Nesting Hole
Tree Creeper

Great Titmouse at Nesting Hole
Blue Titmouse
Young Marsh Tits
Curious Nest of Long-tailed Tit
Bullfinch . . . •

Greenfinches
Young Greenfinches
Chaffinch and Young
Nesting Site of the Raven
Jackdaws
Magpie

Young Magpies
Magpie and Rat
Young Jays .
Jay .
Jx\Y ON Nest

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

XV

Young Wood-pigeon in Nest

Young Turtle-doves

Pheasant's Nest

Woodcock ....

Woodcock's Nest

Typical Nesting Site of the Woodcock

Snipe on Nest

Skylark and Nest .

Tree Pipit entering Nest

Cock Whinchat

Whinchat on Nest

Cock Yellow-hammer feeding Young

Partridge on Nest

Corncrake ....

Corncrake's Nest with Eggs and Young

Grey Linnet and Young .

Lesser Redpoll entering Nest .

Bramblings ....

Young Twites

Wheatear ....

Grasshopper Warbler

Young Grasshopper Warbler

Green Plover on Nest

Golden Plover on Nest .

Curlew's Nest and Eggs .

Curlew on Nest

Cock Ring Ouzel feeding Young

Ring Ouzel on Nest

Common Sandpiper on Nest

Kingfisher on Nest

Kingfisher's Nest and Eggs

Young Kingfishers Twelve Days Old

Young Kingfishers Three Weeks Old

Dipper ....

PAGE
229

243
247
251
257
267
271
271

275
279
283
283
288
289

299

307
307
315
326

329
329
333
333
337
342
343
348
349
353

XVI

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Pied Wagtail feeding Young

357

Swallow on Nest ....

362

Young Swallows Fifteen Days Old

365

House Martin and Nest .

371

Swift on Nest ....

377

Heron .....

381

Little Grebe on Nest

388

Great Crested Grebe's Nest and Eggs .

392

Reed Bunting on Nest

407

Sedge Warbler on Nest .

411

Stone Curlew on Nest

425

Ringed Plover ....

429

Guillemots .....

434

Puffins .....

438

Kittiwakes .....

441

Three Nests of Young Cormorants

447

Gannets .....

455

ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

DIURNAL BIRDS OF PREY

The diurnal birds of prey — the Eagles, the
Falcons and the Hawks — stand at the head of the
feathered races. Born in the purple, accustomed
to Avork their sovereign will upon legions of weaker
subjects, high-handed and intolerant, their ferocity
has at least the fine qualities of courage, strength
and endurance.

The Golden Eagle is a king by nature. En-
throned on inaccessible rock, he brooks no peer.
The trembling serfs below — the lapwing, the cur-
lew and the grouse — crouch to earth at his ap-
proach. They know him to be the lord of life and
death.

To the bird-lover, the pity of it is that the Rap-
tores should be so rare in Great Britain. True,
owing to wise preservation, the Golden Eagle ma}'
now be frequentlv seen in the Scottish Highlands,
soaring in wide circles above his ancestral hills,
and the smaller hawks, and even the Peregrine,
once the pride of British Falconry, are still con-
stantly to be met with. But the fact remains that
of the twenty-two species of Falconid^ which are

included in the British list, some four or five
I

2 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

only can fairly be classed as familiar in our own
country.

The Spotted Eagle owes its place to a few
occurrences only. Of the Greenland and Iceland
Falcons, a specimen, usually immature, drifts occa-
sionally southwards to these islands, but the records
are comparatively rare. Of the Red-footed Falcon
about twenty occurrences since 1830 are noted. The
Goshawk is now extremely rare, and has probably
always been so ; for many of the early references
to this bird apply equally well to the Peregrine
Falcon — in many places, indeed, the name Goose-
hawk is still applied to the Peregrine. The
Harriers, which were at one time fairly plentiful,
have now largely disappeared; and of the Buzzards,
one alone can be described as being fairly well
known.

The Red Kite was once widely distributed in
England, and was so common even in London, that
the Bohemian Schaschek, writing in 1461, regarded
it as one of the features of the British Metropolis.
Speaking of London Bridge, he remarks, " No-
where have I seen so great a number of Kites as
there;" and it is clear from other sources that
this Kite was constantly met with in the London
streets, acting as a most useful scavenger. Now it
may be said to be almost on the verge of extinction.

The inclusion of the Black Kite rests upon one
occurrence in 1866, and that of the Swallow-tailed
Kite upon four or five, mostly doubtful.

The Hobby, again, can hardly be classed as a
familiar English bird. As the Sparrow-hawk fol-
lows the Goshawk in formation, so the Hobby

KESTREL

DIURNAL BIRDS OF PREY 5

may be said to be a Peregrine Falcon in miniature.
It is a summer visitor only, coming in April and
leaving with the Swallows, in October. Its distri-
bution in these islands is very unequal. Yarrell
states that its range in England is somewhat like
that of the Nightingale. The analogy is not strong,
however ; the Nightingale, for example, being very
plentiful in parts of Somerset, where the Hobby is
extremely rare. Then, again, a line drawn through
Yorkshire from Flamborough Head to INIorecambe
Bay may be said roughly to define the northern
range of the Nightingale, whereas the Hobby cer-
tainly occurs as far north as the Isle of Arran. In
Ireland, two occurrences only are noted, and in
Wales it is little known.

The Falconid^e which mav now be classed as
familiar English birds are thus reduced to three
species — the Sparrow-hawk, Kestrel, and Merlin.

The Sparrow-hawk usually builds in fairlv high
trees, not unfrequently appropriating the abodes
of Crows and IMagpies, and the eggs, four to five in
number, are heavily blotched with brownish-crim-
son on a bluish-white ground. The voung are
covered with a delicate and pure white down. The
species is generally distributed throughout the
United Kingdom, and inhabits every country of
the European continent, as well as many other parts
of the world.

It has been said that the female Sparrow-hawk,
when she has nestlings, is the only bird of prey
that the British gamekeeper has to fear. It is
certain that at this time the mother bird is unusually

6 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

bold and unscrupulous. She will carry off chickens
from the farmyards, and young pheasants from the
edges of the coops, beneath the very eyes of the
watchers. But it is questionable if the damage
done by the smaller hawks amounts to any appre-
ciable sum. Their staple food consists of wild birds,
together with voles, mice and insects, and there is
a certain balance in Nature which they unquestion-
ably help to maintain. Selby states that he found
in one Sparrow-hawk's nest, containing five young
ones, one Lapwing, two Blackbirds, one Thrush,
and two Greenfinches — all species which are fairly
prolific and from which some toll may properly be
taken.

The principle upon which Hawks select their
victims is by no means clear. One constantly sees
the Sparrow-hawk flying unostentatiously through
the woodlands, attended by quite a crowd of small
birds. They are actively mobbing him, almost
touching his wings at times, in their fleeting at-
tacks. If he were at all vindictive he might surely
strike one down, by a mere turn of his talons. But
he suffers all indignity patiently, and appears to
have no aim save to escape from their unwelcome
attentions. At another time, like a streak of light-
ning he strikes a passing bird, and, descending to
some branch, or other point of vantage, tears it to
shreds.

Mr. Metcalfe has an interesting note upon this
species. He states that when the hen is sitting,
the male will bring birds which it has killed, leav-
ing ithem upon the ground near the nest, always
in one particular place.

DIURNAL BIRDS OF PREY 9

The Kestrel is perhaps the commonest of the
hawks in England. The nesting site is usually in
a tree — a fir tree in some narrow belt, or hedgerow^
being often chosen in preference to a wood, and
very commonly the deserted nest of a Crow^ or Mag-
pie is occupied. It also builds in rocks and in the
recesses of steep banks. More rarely, the nest is
found in old towers and ruined buildings, and in
the trunks of hollow trees. Lord Lilford states
that in Spain, where it is extremely abundant, it
is found nesting in almost every church-tower and
ruin in town or country. The eggs are four to five
in number, thickly mottled with dark-brown or red,
varying much in size. The young are hatched
about the end of April, and are covered with
yellowish down.

Like many other birds, the Kestrel increases in
numbers in the south in autumn, whereas in more
northerly districts it either disappears altogether, or
is but seldom seen. It is thus clear that in Eng-
land it partially migrates, whilst in many other
countries it does so absolutely.

The hovering of the Kestrel — the manner in
which it maintains its stationary position in the air
for long spaces of time — has attracted the attention
of many diverse observers. Sir Walter Scott saw it
with a poet's eye alone; to Richard Jefferies it sug-
gested not only poetry — the vision of force sud-
denly turned into watchful ease at the will of its
owner — but it also provided material for curiously
minute observations of the methods of wing-poise,
balance, and susceptibility to air currents, which
may yet make his paper, " The Hovering of the

10 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Kestrel," of no small value to the student of aerial
navigation.

The Kestrel feeds largely upon voles and field-
mice, thereby rendering the farmer efficient aid,
for a plague of voles is by no means an unknown
evil. When hovering, its keen eye searches the
tangled herbage far beneath, and, when it sees the
tiny form moving below amidst the stems, it drops
suddenly upon it — a veritable bolt from the blue.
Sometimes it will descend upon what appears to
be a likely spot — or, more probably, where it has
seen the movement of a mouse — and watch like a
cat for the reappearance of its prey.

The Merlin is distributed rather unequally
throughout England. At one time it was con-
sidered to be merely a winter visitant to the
southern districts, but it is now known to breed in
most English counties; whilst from Yorkshire
northwards to the Shetlands it is of fairly common
occurrence. The nest is placed upon the ground
amidst heather, or in rocks, and on rare occasions
in England, in a tree. The four to six eggs are
deeply mottled with dark red merging into purple.
The bird is found pretty generally throughout
the European continent, and it also visits parts
of India, and occasionallv China. Like the Kes-
trel, the ^Merlin varies its diet with courses of
moths, cockchafers and other insects, but small
birds probably form its staple food. These it hunts
down resolutely, pursuing them into the recesses of
trees and brushwood, where even the Peregrine
himself would forbear to follow. In the palmy days

MERLIN ON NEST

YOUNG MERLIN

DIURNAL BIRDS OF PREY 13

of British Falconry the Merlin found a regular
place in the stud Avith the Peregrine and Goshawk,
when it was flown at Larks, Blackbirds and other
small fowl. It is said to attack Partridges and
Grouse — birds more than double its own weight —
but this, I think, is unusual. It is known on good
authority, however, that a trained Merlin will
follow and bring down a pigeon.

These little hawks readily become tame, and take
kindly to captivity. Lord Lilford, however, who
had an unusually wide experience of wild birds
reclaimed from a state of nature, tells us that they
require great care and skilful management to keep
them in good flying condition. He also throws
some doubt upon the character for pluck and dash
with which they are generally accredited.

J\ly own experience, for what it may be worth,
goes to support popular tradition. An adult Mer-
lin, recently caught, when it came into my posses-
sion, soon lost all fear of its captors, and its reckless
courage far exceeded that of any hawk I have
known. On one occasion, when at large in a room,
it pursued an escaped Greenfinch with the utmost
ferocity, brushing through hanging drapery and
chivying its victim from beneath the heavier furni-
ture, without the slightest regard for the interfer-
ence of the bvstanders. It was only by actually
seizing and holding it that its headlong pursuit
could be checked.

In its mode of cjuest the Merlin differs materially
from the Kestrel, owing, of course, largely to the
different character of its prey ; for though the latter
may now and then take birds, this would appear

14 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

to be by no means its regular habit. Tiie hovering
Kestrel, hanging motionless in the sky, at once
arrests the attention, and is one of the conspicu-
ously interesting features of bird-life. If it be
observed carefully through a field-glass, it will be
seen that the head, always turned to the wind, is
pressed downwards, and that the keen eyes are
scrutinizing the ground beneath. When a mouse
is discovered, the wings suddenly close, and the
lean form, with claws extended, shoots straight
down upon its victim. The Merlin, on the other
hand, rarely hangs upon its wings. Its custom is
to take its w^ay, flying low along the hedgesides, or
amidst the gorse of the common. Then when a
Linnet or Meadow-jDipit crosses its track, it may be
seen to give chase, following the marked bird with
hound-like persistence, and rarely failing to recover
its quarrv. This mode of pursuit is knoAvn in
Falconrv as raking, in contradistinction to the
manner of the Peregrine and others, which rise m
wide circles above their soaring prey, and stoop
down suddenly upon it.

BIRDS OF THE NIGHT

The long summer day draws to a close. A little
while ago a Willow Wren sang faintly in the re-
cesses of the wood, and the Swifts still might be
seen flying high. Now, one by one, the sights
and sounds of Nature die down. The Whitethroats
cease to move restlessly in the brambles by the
hedge, and the Blackbird Avhich flew across the
road, with a scream of defiance, making for the tall
hawthorns beyond, gives no further sign.

In the country it is hard to find a spot so desolate
that it is possible to rest there, even for a few mo-
ments, without some living thing coming within
one's ken. By the riverside, in the open meadow,
in the depths of the wood, wait but a little while
in perfect stillness, and the true owners of the small
domain which falls within the circle of your eye
will resume the work or play which your footstep
has arrested.

But now, just when day and night meet, all ani-
mated Nature has disappeared. In the crannies of
the wall, in the deeps of the mowing grass and of
the corn, in the infinite harbourage of the full-
leafed woods, all the wild life of the countryside
seems to be hidden away in silence.

But only for a little while are the activities of
Nature suspended. Night has her votaries as well
2 17

i8 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

as day. The gathering dusk which closes the petals
of the wild flowers, and stills the song of the Wil-
low Wren and the Lark, is the signal for other eyes
to awaken and alert forms to issue forth.

Standing in the recess of the wood, the shadows
of the great oaks form a pool of blackness on the
grass, but beyond this the eye can easily follow
the light band of the road as it runs through the
darker green of the closely-cropped sward on either
side. The night w-ind stirs the leaves of the trees,
and far away across the valley a single light ap-
pears from some distant farmstead. In the warm,
leafy darkness, a great beetle, his horny wing-
shields raised to give play to the gossamer pinions
beneath, goes humming by on some nameless
errand. Now a faint burr-rr-ing sound reaches the
ear; trembles on the very verge of hearing, as it
seems.

Soon we see clearly the pointed wings of the
Nightjar, turning in the air, swallow-like, to
snap a moth, then vanishing in the dark recess
of the oaks. Now it rests on a bough close at
hand, not standing athwart upon it, after the
manner of other birds, but crouching lengthwise,
with its head depressed lower than its body, and
the burr-rr-ing sound becomes more distinct. In-
deed, it is not certain that this peculiar cry is
ever uttered when the bird is actually upon the
wing.i At one moment one hears it from the
left, then from the right; now it is in front, and
now^ behind, so that one seems to be surrounded by

^ The somewhat startling call- or alarm-note, however, is
heard during the flight.

BIRDS OF THE NIGHT 19

voices, long before a glimpse of the moving figure
can be obtained.

As the darkness deepens, other birds awaken.
The Owls leave their fastnesses and sally forth.
When seen in the daytime, at a high elevation in
the darkest corner of the granary, the Barn Owl
appears to be asleep. For many hours it will re-
main perfectly motionless, its form barely to be
distinguished from a patch of dusty and cobwebbed
plaster. But a little before sundown it grows sud-
denly alert. Like a mere bunch of animated
feathers, yet with swiftness and precision, it drops
to the loophole in the masonry which gives access
to the world beyond. Then it sails into the gloom
of the stackyard, the legs stretched behind as
though to counterbalance the great head, and the
keen eyes scrutinizing every corner and small en-
closure of the fold. Sometimes it appears barely
to skim the earth; then rising, its dim, shadow-like
form disappears over the wall. Now as the gloam-
ing deepens, it pursues its way, skirting the long
dark line of the hedgerow, beating its soundless
course across the meadow, searching the narrow-
track by the wood, and ascending at every obstacle
as though it Avere suddenly upborne by an imper-
ceptible air-current, rather than by the motion of
its wings. Then its flight is arrested; on the in-
stant it drops like a stone in the herbage. Already
the sharp talons have grasped the trembling little
mouse, and in a moment more the Owl, like a grim
air-ship, is sailing back with its freight. When it
reaches the narrow slit in the stone, the prey- is
adroitly slipped from claws to bill, so that the feet

20 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

may be used, and, moving with certain ease in the
inner darkness, the bird regains its haunt.

It is not difficult to see how the Owl family have
become linked with so many popular superstitions.
Their habit of haunting churchyards, their sound-
less movements, the unearthly cries w-ith w hich they
suddenly break the stillness of the summer's night,
alike affect the imagination.

" Out on ye : Owls? Nothing but songs of death."'

But although the Owls may not attend the windows
of dying jDcrsons to bear away their souls, they
are, none the less, mysterious messengers of fate
for many populous communities.

The number of mice and other small creatures
destroyed in regions where Owls are at all plentiful,
may be roughly estimated from the following facts :
After the manner of Haw'ks, the Owls cast up the
bones, fur and feathers of what they devour, and
these "pellets," or "castings," afford data from
which the relative characters and quantities of their
prey may be arrived at. A German naturalist,
quoted by the editor of White's Selborne, collected
these castings at different seasons of the year, for
examination. In 706 castings of the Barn Owl he
found the remains of 16 bats, 3 rats, 237 house-
mice, 693 field-mice, 1590 shrews, i mole and 22
small birds.

The flight of these night-feeding birds is perhaps
their most interesting peculiarity. How is the airy
buoyancy attained which enables them to waft
themselves, soundless as shadows, along the dark
hedgerows and across the gloom-hidden fields? In

BIRDS OF THE NIGHT 21

the Owls, the number of the quill-feathers is equal
to that of birds of the most powerful wing, giving
them the greatest facilities for sustained and rapid
flight. Their noiseless movements are not attained
by any diminution of force. But the texture of the
feathers differs essentially from that of the plumage
of the Falcons and of most other birds. It is of
the downiest softness, and the fibres of the wing-
webs being of unequal length, allow^ a free passage
to the air, and are so pliable that they yield to
the lightest pressure. This is the secret of their
flight.

Then the eyes are so constructed that they gather
in the faintest and few^est rays of light, and the feet
and claws are finely formed for the sudden seizure
of prey, the external toe being versatile. Thus in
the Owl, we see a carefully perfected and delicately
balanced engine of death, framed to survey the in-
tricacies of the herbage in the darkness, to glide
swiftly and silently through the air, and to bring
down the relentless mechanism of foot and talon
upon the quarry. From such a foe there is no safety
for even the tiniest mouse as it steals along, shel-
tered, as it may believe, in the double security of
dense cover and of night.

In the list of British Birds, Yarrell gives ten
species of Owls. Of these, four only can fairly
be described as familiar — the Tawny, Long-eared,
Short-eared and Barn Owls. Of the remaining
six, Tengmalm's Owl is a very rare visitant to
Great Britain. Its inclusion in the British list
rests upon about fourteen occurrences since 18 12

22 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

for England and three for Scotland. In Ireland it
is unknown.

The Eagle Owl, one of the largest species of the
family, is even more rarely met with in these
islands, eight or ten occurrences only having been
noted.

The Snowv Owl, again, is an Arctic form which
has drifted here on some few occasions, and the
appearance of the Scops Owl and the Hawk Owl
is at least equally rare.

Of the Little Owl it is difficult to speak with
certainty, for many of the occurrences are doubtless
those of birds which have escaped, or have been
released from captivity. For example, in 1842,
Waterton describes how he imported and set free
a number of Little Owls at Walton Hall — that once
well-known sanctuary for birds — and subsequently
Mr. St. Ouentin in Yorkshire, and Mr. INIead-
Waldo in Hampshire, introduced many others.
Within comparatively late years Lord Lilford tried
a similar experiment at Lilford Hall in Northamp-
tonshire. That the birds have become acclimatized
is clear, and in certain localities they are now a
fairly familiar species.

Of the four truly British species, the Tawny Owl
is probably the most widely distributed. As it
lives mainlv in dense woods and wooded parks, and
is strictly nocturnal, it is not very commonly seen,
and the Barn Owl, the area of whose habitat is
limited, and usually chosen in the neighbourhood of
human habitations, is more often in evidence. But
if one may judge from the cries at night--the loud,

YOUNG TAWNY OWLS

BIRDS OF THE NIGHT 25

clear hoot — the "Tu-whit — Tu-whoo" of Shake-
speare— which has come to be typical of the family,
startling one as they do in solitudes so widely
spread, it seems fair to assume that the Taw^ny is
by far the most plentiful of the British Owls.

The Tawnv Owl feeds chiefly upon field-mice,
voles, beetles, and occasionally upon birds. When
Pheasants are being reared at the woodside, it fre-
quents the coops, where it is commonly shot by
the keepers. Although it cannot be acquitted of
the charge of destroying game, this is still a ques-
tionable policy, for its visits are most probably
due to the rats which collect about the feeding-pens
at night. These vermin are dangerous neighbours
for the Pheasant poults, and the Owl is the most
efficient rat-catcher in existence. I once placed a
pair of young Tawny Owls in an outdoor aviary
which had become infested with rats and mice. At
intervals through the night one could hear the
thud of the pouncing birds on the wooden floor,
and the terror-stricken squeaks of the victims. As
Owls move through the air with the buoyancy of
thistle-down, I was struck with the violence dis-
played. The birds themselves were probably dis-
concerted by the contact with a hard surface hi
place of the grassv hollows where the descent is
usually made, but it became clear that their airily
light forms are capable of a most fierce and forcible
onslaught.

In common with the Tawny and Barn Owls, the
Long-eared Owl is a resident species in Great
Britain, and in appearance it is one of the most

26 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

striking. Standing on the dark branch of a fir tree,
with its long, slender form perfectly erect, and
watching the intruder with its strangely lustrous
eyes, as though it would peer into his innermost
thoughts, it becomes eas}- to see why the ancients
selected this fowl as the emblem of some occult
wisdom.

Although an inch or two less than the Tawny
Owl, its straight, compact figure gives the impres-
sion of greater length, and this effect is heightened
by the horn-like tufts upon its head, composed of
seven or eight feathers an inch and a half in length,
which the bird can raise and depress at will. The
young have tufts of down where the ears appear,
which fall away when the true feathers begin to
grow. This Owl is with difficulty driven to desert
its breeding site. If the first clutch of eggs be
taken, it will usually la}- a second, and even a
third, at intervals of about three weeks. In the
pairing season, the male bird has a curious habit
of paddling with its feet, ruffling its feathers, and
cooing after the manner of a pigeon.

The Long-eared Owl does not hoot and is usually
silent, save for a short, snapping sound, which is
also uttered when the bird is on the wing. Strictly
nocturnal, it spends the day in deep woods, espe-
cially in fir-woods. In suitable localities, where
deserted nests are easily found, many pairs may be
discovered nesting in close proximity.

The Short-eared Owl is mainly migratory. Large
numbers visit these islands in October, availing
themselves, it would appear, of the same atmo-

VOi:XG LONG-EARED OWL

BIRDS OF THE NIGHT 29

spheric conditions as the Woodcocks do, which
they usually precede. They are thus known to
sportsmen as the Woodcock Owls. But although
the Short-eared Owl is a true migrant, some pairs
still remain in this country to breed, and it is be-
lieved that, before the draining of certain of the
fen districts in the East of England, their nests
were comparatively common. As the Raven is one
of the earliest birds to breed in England, so the
Short-eared Owl is one of the latest; young birds,
unable to fly, being found in mid-August.

The distribution of the Short-eared Owl is very
wide. It occurs in varying numbers in every county
in Great Britain, and, at one season or another,
inhabits the whole continent of Europe and the
greater part of Asia.

The food of the Short-eared Owl consists chiefly
of field-mice and beetles, and occasionally, like
others of its family, it takes small birds. One of
the matters of marvel in Nature is the way in which
birds are attracted to distant areas in which the
food-supply has become suddenly and unexpectedly
augmented. The case of the Vulture is well known.
In the trackless desert some worn-out beast of
burden falls dying in the sand. A moment before
the vast sky-space might have been swept vainly
for the sight of any living thing. Now, almost
before the trappings can be torn from the stricken
beast, a dark speck is seen in the far-distant hori-
zon, followed by another, and yet another, and in a
little while the air is filled with the wheeling wings
of the Vultures waiting for their feast. Again,
amidst the hills of Sutherland, one mav fish for half

30 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

a summer's day, and the lonely loch is deserted save
for some wandering Diver, or Sandpiper, flitting
from stone to stone. But at luncheon-time one
chances to throw a few pieces of biscuit into the
still water at one's feet. Soon, far over the hills, a
tinv gull is seen. It sails over the surface of the
loch, steering a straight course, and, after a few
preliminary circles, it descends upon the food. It
is followed by others of its clan, and, in a little
while, half-a-dozen, or more, are clamouring m the
air.

By what power, occult or otherwise, the birds are
guided it is impossible to guess. It certainly seems
that any explanation based upon the ordinary facul-
ties, of sight and smell, is untenable. The pheno-
menon is repeated in the case of the Short-eared
Owls. From time to time, certain serious inroads
of field-voles occur. As far back as 1580 and 1581,
there is a record of "a sore plague of strange
mice," which devastated a whole countryside in
Kent and Essex. . The same thing happened in
Norfolk, and later in Gloucestershire. Quite re-
cently, an irruption of these small pests, ruinous
to the farmer, occurred in Dumfriesshire. Mr.
Richard Bell, of Castle O'Er, gives a graphic ac-
count of the advent of the strange invaders; how
they swarmed in field, bank and hedgerow, destroy-
ing every blade of vegetation in their course. Bur
here, too, came the Owls, in numbers never before
known, to do the work which all the available
shepherds and their dogs were quite unable to
effect.

One peculiarity of the Short-eared Owl, it is

BARN OWI.

BIRDS OF THE NIGHT 33

said, is that it is rarely known to perch on trees.
I think this statement must be taken with some
quaUfication. That the bird prefers open spaces,
and does not systematically take to the woods, is
true. It is commonly flushed from rough bent-
grass, and even from turnips, and year by year,
when Grouse-shooting, I have seen it rise from
the open heather. But often, when the wooded
ravines in the sea-cliffs near Flamborough are
beaten for Woodcock, this Owl is found in the
trees. On one occasion I saw^ three driven out, one
of which, after taking its desultory course over the
tree-tops, alighted on the bough of a low ash.

Owing to its conspicuous colouring, and to the
fact that it lives in or about places occupied by
man, the Barn Owl is perhaps the most familiar
of its race. In addition to farm-buildings, it some-
times affects hollow trees and clefts in rocks or
walls, but it has won its sombre reputation, in
poetry especially, by reason of its affection for
ancient, ivy-covered belfries and deserted ruins
generally. Here, with its nocturnal flight and
weird, eldritch shriek — the Barn Owl rarely hoots
—it supplies the touch of living mystery which the
poet instinctively feels to be fitting. The moping
Owl which complained to the moon in Gray's
Elegy was probably a Tawny.

The Nightjar is the only truly British represent-
ative of its family, although two other species —
the Red-necked and the Egyptian^are said to have
occurred in this country.
3

34 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Except for its nocturnal habit, it has little kin-
ship with the Owls. It is a late migrant from
Africa, rarelv reaching England before the middle
of May. Its eggs, two in number, and mottled
with brown on a white ground, are laid upon the
bare heath, and, as the illustration shows, there is
little or no nest of any kind. What virtue the
Nightjar finds in the particular spot which it selects
would be hard to discover ; yet, none the less, it
returns year after year, if undisturbed, to rear its
young on the same featureless patch. When scared
from its eggs, it flies but a little way and drops to
the ground, where its variegated dead-fern-like
plumage harmonizes so completely with the dry
vegetation around that it becomes w^ell-nigh in-
visible.

A true fly-catcher, it is armed with curious bristles
at either side of the bill, which aid it in arresting
the flight of insects on the wing.

XIC.HTJAK OX NEST

YOUNG NIGHTJAR TWELVE DAYS OLD

BIRDS OF THE HO.MESTEAD

The little white house stands back from the road,
and may easily be passed by unobserved. Even
from the hill it is not readily made out, for it is set
in thickly-growing trees, and in summer only the
red tiles of the roof can be caught through the
leaves. It is remote from other dwellings, but
from the knoll amidst the beeches one can see the
blue smoke rising from the village, and, here and
there, gain a glimpse of the river as it winds
through the valley. On the trellised face of the
house Mrginian creepers, which turn to a deep red
in autumn, grow freely, and a climbing rose-bush
overhangs the door. In front the lawn, deeply
shaded by big trees, is skirted with banks of old-
time flowers — snapdragon, mignonette and musk —
which grow in tangled masses untended from year
to year. At first sight, these appear to limit the
little domain, but one may wander far on the mossy
paths, even through forest trees where bluebells
and daffodils grow wild in the long grass, before a
boundary is reached.

The birds are never molested here, and a cat is
treated with the scant courtesy which the shepherd
accords to the ravening wolf, so that the more
familiar races have come to regard it as a home, and
even the wilder or rarer species relax something of

38 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

their circumspection when they approach its pre-
cincts. Summer by summer, the Spotted Fl_v-
catchers nest in the trelUs, and dart from their perch
on the raihngs of the lawn. Blackbirds and
Thrushes rear their young in the untrimmed hedges
or in the great tree-like clusters of rhododendrons.
In the broken, mossy wall which skirts the orchard,
the Titmice and the Robin build, and from morning
to night the Chaffinches and the Willow^ Wrens are
to be heard singing in the fruit trees.

Behind the house the ancient barns are roofed
with turf, where moss and various grasses spring,
amidst which the Pied Wagtails run, snapping
flies, as in a field. The trees fall back here, and
the little farmstead, with the stackyard beyond,
lies open to the sun. In April the Swallows come,
their glossy plumage shining as they dart through
the half-opened door into the dim interior of the
shed, and a colony of ^Martins have a well-nigh
unbroken row of nests beneath the southern eaves.

But all these are the more familiar guests, and
a deeper interest is aroused when the barred plumes
of a Spotted Woodpecker can be caught amidst the
taller trees, or a Nuthatch be seen moving spirally
about the lower bole of the beech. Then to the little
kitchen garden, hedged around with thick haw-
thorns, the wary Hawfinch steals at times, and the
Bullfinches come regularly to feed and to build
their small nest in the sprays of holly in the fence.

In early spring the belt of fir-trees which shelters
the garden from the road, appears black in contrast
with the light, vivid green of the occasional larches
in their midst, and here, tempted by the seclusion — •

BIRDS OF THE HOMESTEAD 39

for he is by no means a homestead-loving bird — the
Tree-sparrow appears at times. He may be distin-
guished at once from the common form bv his
smaller size and by his chestnut head and black-
and-white cheek and throat, alike in both sexes. He
has nothing of the confident manner which marks
the House-sparrow. Although an active, lively
bird, he is rarely seen apart from the dense plumes
of the topmost fir-branches, and, wherever he may
be, he seems to shrink instinctively from observation.

In England the Tree-sparrow usually nests in the
hole of some remote tree, but, curiously enough, in
France it appears to have adopted the House-spar-
row's habit of frequenting human domiciles and
building beneath their eaves. Mr. W. P. Pvcraft
recently put forward a theory that at one time all
birds nested in trees, supporting this view by the
statement that the oldest known fossil-bird — the
Archoeopteryx— was a tree-builder, and suggesting
that the first cause of birds nesting elsewhere was
overcrowding.

Even if not altogether borne out by the facts
this is an interesting speculation, and there is
certainlv reason to believe that nest-building is in a
state of evolution. The case of the Sparrows seems
to bear upon this point. It may fairly be inferred
that at one time, when human habitations were few,
the House-sparrow constantly built in trees, a habit
by no means abandoned to-day; that by degrees
houses and other buildings were seen to provide
more suitable sites, and that, as the ages went b}^
these were more and more resorted to, until at
length they became, as we find them to-day, the

40 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

birds' more habitual nesting-places. The Tree-
sparrow would appear to be following these evolu-
tionary lines more slowly; still maintaining the
ancient tree-building habit in England, but adopt-
ing the more modern method on the Continent.

In the corner of the orchard, just through the
gate, is an old gnarled apple-tree. There is a large
hole in the upper trunk, which for many years has
been taken possession of by the Starlings. Here
they come in the early spring to chatter in the sun-
shine on the dead boughs above the hole, or upon
the rim of the chimney-pot, when the notes of many
familiar birds are introduced; the plaintive cry of
the Golden Plover, or the clear bell-like " L^-chru —
U-chru," of the Great Tit, the sounds being accom-
panied with a castanet-like rattling of the wings.
When the hen is sitting upon the four or five pale-
blue eggs laid in the dark recess, there is silence for
a little time, soon to be broken by the incessant
clamours of the young. Now, from earliest dawn
to eventide the parents labour without a moment's
respite. So regular are they in their movements,
to and fro, that their flight appears to create a
straight black line ruled in the air, and along this
they beat their way, appearing and disappearing
above the topmost sprays of the apple-trees at
exactly the same place. There are meadows with
long, lush grass near at hand, and the active,
dark forms can be seen threading the herbage
here, or, indeed, busily moving upon the lawn
itself. Now they go much further afield for their
food, and from the little summit by the beeches
one can easily trace them through the glasses,

/:

'^■-

STARLIXCx AT NESTING HOLE IN APPLE-TREE

I31RDS OF THE HOMESTEAD 43

a quarter of a mile away, steadily making a bee-
line for the apple-trees. But so great is their dis-
patch that, however far they may travel, one or
other of the parents is seen once in every five
minutes at the side of the nesting hole, to be
greeted by hungry welcomes from beneath.

The Starlings are the noisiest of birds, making
not the slightest effort to conceal the whereabouts
of their family; indeed, the loud " spate, spate " of
the old birds at the moment when they alight, and
the vociferous responses of the young, render the
nest a thing impossible to be overlooked.

Fortunately for the Starlings, the recess selected
is constantly beneath the eaves of houses, and in
rocks and old castles, as well as in decayed trees,
and so the eggs and nestlings are beyond the reach
of prying hands. This, taken in conjunction with
the fact that the bird is double-brooded — a circum-
stance often questioned, but which is certainly
true in many cases — has probably helped to render
the Starling one of the most abundant birds in
England.

The families amalgamate in the late autumn, and
at these times the flocks amount to incredible num-
bers; some observers stating that at their roosting-
grounds in reed-beds and evergreen plantations,
they have been known to assemble in millions,
breaking down and destroying, by their crowding
weight, the boughs or stems upon which they seek
to rest.

In addition to the many familiar places, the
Starling often builds in the bases of Rooks' nests,
in the deserted homes of Magpies, and, more rarely.

44 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

in rabbit-burrows. One instance is recorded of a
nest built quite in the open, against the trunk of
a small fir tree.

England is sometimes visited by a race of Star-
lings on migration which differ largely from the
commoner type. These birds are distinguished by
the hues of the head and neck, and are known as
Purple-headed Starlings.

As the winds bare the branches of the apple-
trees and the hawthorns, and autumn sinks into
winter, the bird-life about the little homestead
changes day by day. The Swallows and Warblers
are gone, and the hard rattle of the Fieldfare is
heard in their place, as the birds cross the frozen
valley to alight on the black boughs of the beeches.

About the snowy stackyard, the Yellowhammers
and Greenfinches come to join with the ubiquitous
Sparrows in wresting a scanty meal from the clear-
ings w^here grain may have fallen.

The Hedge-sparrow, too, true to the homestead in
winter and summer alike, is never far away, and in
the snow-time may always be seen flitting about
the stick-heap, or, aloof from the ruder finches,
moving modestly amidst the beaten straw.

This little bird shares with the Robin, Stonechat
and Golden-crested Wren the distinction of being
one of the few members of the Sylviid^ which are
resident in England throughout the year. Still,
observation shows that even this species — the most
domesticated and restful of all — is driven by the
strange migratory instinct to venture forth across
perilous seas, upon a journey which, season by
season, proves fatal to countless myriads of the

BIRDS OF THE HOMESTEAD 45

feathered tribes. Although so many Hedge-spar-
rows are with us in summer and winter aUke, and
may be seen at any season moving unobtrusively
in lowly places about the homestead, with that
slight characteristic shuffle of wing from which one
of their many local names is derived, they are none
the less migrants, and in September and October
vast numbers arrive on the East Coast annually,
especially on the shores of Yorkshire and of
Lincolnshire.

The plumage of the Hedge-sparrow is of the
soberest hue. Even in the nuptial season, when all
Nature arrays herself in her best, the male Hedge-
sparrow merely adds a touch of blue and silver to
his grey side-plumes; so faint, indeed, that it is
only on the closest inspection that they may be
observed at all.

The Hedge-sparrow is one of the earliest birds to
build. Its nest is placed in a still leafless hedge,
or in the recesses of a stick-heap in some neglected
corner of the cottage garden. It is one of the de-
lights of early spring to peer through the interstices
of the black, lifeless boughs, and to see, gleaming
below, the clear, delicate blue, unmarred by spot
or stain, of the eggs which the little Hedge-sparrow
has laid undeterred by its wintry surroundings.

In habit, as well as in plumage, the Hedge-spar-
row is one of the least obtrusive of birds. Al-
though, unlike the Sedge Warbler or the Wood
Wren, it never avoids the presence of man, nor
shrinks hastily into the thicket, or the recesses of
the wood, at his approach, it is none the less reluct-
ant to court observation. It sidles modestly about

46 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

the cottage door, or on the moist earth amidst the
gooseberry-bushes, picking up its imperceptible
food, and, when alarmed by some disturbance, it
flies but a little way, soon returning to its homely
feast. Rarely, in its most reckless outburst, w'ill
it aspire much higher than the gate-post; or, if it
ascends to the lower branches of a tree, there to
pour out its little love-song, it almost immediately
drops down to the hedge where its mate is moving,
mouse-like, as though quite surprised at its own
audacity. Never, in my experience, has a Hedge-
sparrow ascended to the topmost bough of any tree
whose height could be deemed at all considerable.
Many of the older writers regard the Hedge-
sparrow's nest as the one most commonly selected
by the Cuckoo for the foisting of her egg. So far
as my knowledge goes, the Meadow-pipit ^ is far
more frequently forced to become the foster-parent
of this monstrous charge. Still, the Cuckoo's egg
is constantly found in the Hedge-sparrow's nest,
and the little brown birds may be seen in active
attendance on their abnormal nestling. The rear-
ing of a young Cuckoo is a severe strain upon these
small warblers, and they appear to grow thin and
worn when engaged in their inappropriate labour,
even although they escape the fate attributed to
them by King Lear :

" The Hedge-sparrow fed the Cuckoo so long,
That it had its head bit off by its young."'

1 Mr. G. W. Murdoch, the naturalist Editor of the Yorkshire
Weekly Post^ to whom I am indebted for the revision of these
pages, has, however, records extending over forty years, and
these show a great preponderance for the Hedge-sparrow.

HOUSE-SPARROW

HEDGE-SPARROW 0\ NEST

BIRDS OF THE HOMESTEAD 49

Shakespeare, too, is one of the authorities who has
assisted, in other passages, in fastening the most
unfitting title Sparrow upon a bird which is quite
without any of the qualities of the " avian rat."
Recent writers have attempted, in justice to an in-
offensive bird, to remove an epithet which, in view
of the hostility that the true Sparrow brings down
upon himself, must be regarded as injurious, in the
same way that the name " rat " is hurtful to that
most harmless vegetarian, the water-vole. They
have suggested that the word Sparrow^ should be
replaced by Accentor. This affix, in its turn, has
been challenged on the ground that the bird is not
an Accentor, and so this most un-sparrow-like
warbler remains the victim of an old-time mis-
nomer, which science appears to lack either the
courage or the power to rectify.

One peculiarity of the Hedge-sparrow, noted by
Yarrell and others, is that it is liable to a singular
disease, consisting of a tubercular excrescence upon
the eyelids, about the base of the bill and on the
feet. This fact is worthy of consideration, for any
external disorder is rare in the case of wild birds,
although by no means uncommon in poultry,
pigeons and other domesticated species.

The \\>en, too, is a bird of the homestead. Not
only is it familiar for its way of flitting, with a
sharp little cry, from one's feet, to alight pertly
with cocked tail and bowing breast, upon the first
coign of vantage, but it also attracts attention by
its habit of singing freely in the very depth of
winter. Although it may remain about the garden
4

50 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

and the stackyard throughout the year, few birds
have less regard for locaHty in their choice of a
haunt. The Wren was long included with the
warblers, but it has no exclusive preference for
woodland and coppice. Indeed, it may be found
anywhere. About the farmstead, or in the deeps
of the ravine; at the cottage door, or amidst
desolate rocks by the sea; starting before the
setter's nose on an Argyleshire mountain, or flit-
ting from stone to stone on a south-country trout-
stream ; no matter what its environment may be,
the Wren appears perfectly contented and at home.
The nesting habits of the Wren have afforded
matter for much discussion. The site is commonly
some mossy wall or bank, but more eccentric places
are often chosen. One photograph, for example,
shows a nest in an old boot. But the interesting
feature is that near the nest occupied by the sitting
bird, a second, less'carefully finished, is frequently
found. Many explanations have been put forward.
The popular belief is that it is the " cock's " nest;
a refuge to which the male bird may betake himself
when the true home is required for the crowded
nestlings. Personally I believe this view to be the
true one. The species appears to be extremely sus-
ceptible to cold. On winter nights, when most
small birds rest comfortably in tree or hedgerow,
Wrens are found, sometimes in considerable num-
bers, huddled together under thatched roofs, and in
the recesses of hay-stacks, plainly for the sake of
warmth. They are also often found roosting in
conservatories and outhouses. It is highly prob-

BIRDS OF THE HOMESTEAD 51

able, therefore, that the male may build a shelter
for himself when the hen is sitting.

Nor is the habit altogether peculiar to the
Wren.^ A pair of House-sparrows once built a nest
in a cork-covered flower-box beneath my window.
In a tree, a few yards away, a second nest was built.
Day by day I saw the cock bird enter it, but never
the hen. Yet the cock would constantly flit across
to the box where the hen was sitting, and, later, he
assisted in rearing the brood.

Like the Redbreast — its traditional mate — the
Wren has been the subject, and often the victim, of
many ancient superstitions. The custom, with
curious formalities attached, of " Hunting the
Wren " upon New Year's Day, which is still ob-
served in certain places, is, says Mr. G. W. Mur-
doch, of purelv Totemistic origin, and carries the
mind back far beyond the pagan rites and the cere-
monial of Druidism.

Two species of Wren are believed, by some
writers, to be found in Great Britain. In St. Kilda,
a form occurs somewhat larger and darker than the
commonly known bird, and to this the distinctive
name, St. Kilda Wren, has been applied. That
the differences, however, of size and plumage
amount to more than a mere modification of the
familiar type, is, to say the least, very doubtful.
Dresser, the joint-author of the great work, Birds
of Etirope, has stated that the supposed points of
difference are all to be found in specimens from

^ The Waterhen also often builds an additional nest in close
proximity to the one finally occupied.

52 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

various parts of Europe, and that the bird is not
worthy of specific rank.

One other bird of the homestead, the most typical
of all, remains.

It may fairly be said that of all birds none is so
well known as the Robin. Go where one will in
England, rest but a little while wherever trees
cluster about the village homestea4s, peer into
stackyard, orchard or garden nook where the pea-
sticks are piled against the ivy-covered wall, and,
sooner or later, the familiar Redbreast will be seen,
as it flits to some prominent perch, often drawing
nearer to the intruder, as though seeking com-
panionship.

But it is not in mere point of numbers, though
few birds are more generously distributed, that the
Robin stands so near to the human race. It is his
sheer friendliness; his obvious desire to be taken
as part of the home-life ; to share with the children
and the chickens something of man's affection and
solicitude, that his name has come to be a house-
hold word. Who can wonder, therefore, that Robin
Redbreast has acquired some familiar domestic
name in nearlv every country in Europe, and that
in lands colonized by Englishmen where he may
not exist, his title should be bestowed upon any
kindly-disposed bird with a red breast which may
come to hand, as a token of loving remembrance ?

Yet although its appearance and its habits are so
well known, the life-history of the Robin presents
problems to the naturalist which are by no means
easy of solution. It has been seen that its numbers

BIRDS OF THE HOMESTEAD 53

vary considerably in many localities at different
periods of the year. The seasonal movements of
any resident species are rarely easy to follow, and
often impossible, in our present state of know-
ledge, to account for. Yarrell states that "to-
wards the end of summer the old birds, for the most
part, withdraw from ordinary observation, betaking
themselves to the shelter and comparative privacy
which the luxuriant foliage of the season affords
them, w^hile, food being plentiful and obtained with
little exertion, these conditions favour their success-
fully undergoing the annual moult — one of the
severest strains to which bird life is exposed. This
process completed, they return towards autumn to
their familiar haunts, which, in the meantime, have
been occupied by their progeny, the young of the
preceding spring. The old birds, then in renewed
vigour, proceed to engage the young, and each
lawn and thicket becomes a battlefield; but, so far
from the vulgar belief (that the young birds destroy
their elders) being well founded, the young, in fact,
are almost invariably worsted, and possession re-
mains with the victorious parents. What becomes
of the defeated is not exactly known, but it may
be plausibly suggested that, driven away from the
place of their birth, they join the numerous bands
of allied species which are then seeking more
southern regions, and help to swell the stream of
migrants then setting forth steadily to warmer
climes."

That many of these birds actually leave Eng-
land is known, and it also seems clear that the
accession and diminution of numbers in given

54 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

places within Great Britain, is also due to the move-
ments of these displaced wanderers. In addition to
this, heavy and long-continued snow drives the
Robin from its more remote haunts, and the birds
then congregate about the homesteads, where food
is more easily to be obtained.

In regard to the conflicts in which Robins engage,
it would be interesting to know the exact extent of
the evidence upon which the high authority just
quoted bases his conclusion that the battles usually
take place between the older and younger birds. It
has lonof been a well-observed fact that Robins
appear to parcel out the countryside into definite
tracts, each division being tenanted by a single pair,
and that the cock bird is always prepared to resent
to the uttermost any encroachment on his territory.
This characteristic may be readily tested by placing
a caged Robin, or even a stuffed specimen, within
the border-line of one of these domains. A single
bird at once appears and attacks the intruder with
the utmost ferocity, beating with rufHed plumes
against the bars, utterly careless of the limed twigs
which the bird-catcher may have set for him. When
the first bird is taken, no other is forthcoming, at
least for a considerable time, when the division
may be presumed to have found a new occupant.
It is therefore highly probable, as Yarrell states,
that a younger generation, seeking a settled loca-
tion, are the more frequent encroachers ; but it is
none the less true that the cock Robin in possession
is often called upon to give battle to a rival, without
any distinction of age.

This habit of attacking an invader of its own

BIRDS OF THE HOMESTEAD 55

species is also noticeable in the Chaffinch, but this
usually occurs in the breeding season only.

The Robin is one of the earliest birds to breed,
and its nest is usually placed in a bank or broken
wall, but more eccentric sites are constantly chosen.
Every season brings an account of nests found in
the pocket of a disused coat hanging in an out-
house, in an old hat, or boot, within the shade of
a broken lamp, and so forth.

The eggs are five to seven in number, and are
streaked and blurred with red on a bluish-white
ground. The young are of a mottled brown hue,
and show little or no trace of the red breast of
adolescence before the first moult.

The distribution of the Robin is general through-
out Europe, but in many countries it is known as
a migrant only. It occurs in the North up to a
latitude of 68°.

The song of the Robin is neither powerful nor
varied, but it has a peculiar sweetness and charm,
which may be partly derived from the circumstances
amidst which it is uttered. On a dreary autumn
day, when the leaves of the dying summer are
drifting to the earth, and a desolate wind is sighing
through the upper branches, already bare; at a time
when all other warblers are silent, or have dis-
appeared with the decay of the season's prosperity,
there, quite alone, sits the little Redbreast, giving
the world what cheer he can, all unresentful of the
days when his plaintive notes were neglected and
overborne in the ringing chorus of the coppice.
Many legends have been woven about him : that,
in pity, he covered the Babes in the Wood with the

56 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

only counterpane he wotted of; that his breast is
dyed eternally with the blood of the Crucified, as
he tried to withdraw the cruel nails. ^ But it is for
his autumn song and for his coming, with bright
eye and cheery bearing, close to the nursery win-
dow, when the ledge is deep in driven snow, to ask
for his reward, that the children love him, and that
his name is uttered with a curious gentleness when-
ever the wayfarer in distant lands speaks of home
and of Christmas.

^ A legend which also refers to the Crossbill.

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS

Warblers

Under this heading may be roughly grouped a
large number of most interesting British birds, it
is chiefly to the warblers that we owe the music
which vibrates through the spring w^oodlands and
renders England, in this respect, favoured beyond
all other lands. American naturalists have claimed
that their native birds, as a whole, rival those of
Great Britain in power and variety of song. Mr.
John Burroughs, for example, draws an interesting
comparison between the songsters of the two
countries. He claims that America possesses thirty-
seven true singing birds as against twenty-three
which he grants to the Old Country. But even he
admits that although in New England the bird-
voices that join in the spring chorus are more
numerous, they are, none the less, more fitful and
intermittent, more confined to certain hours of the
day, and less loud and vivacious. The American
finches, including the Song-sparrows, Indigo Bird,
Purple Finch, Scarlet Tanager, Rose-breasted
Grosbeak and Cardinal Bird, he believes to be
superior to ours, and he lays special stress upon
the music of the Wood and Hermit Thrushes, but
he at once agrees that our Larks and Warblers are
unmatched in the world.

57

58 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Still, even if it be true that the songsters of
America equal those of Great Britain — and few
unbiassed observers would be inclined to admit it —
it is still a noteworthy fact that these tiny islands
compete so successfully wdth vast continents in
providing a home for all that is best and sweetest
in Nature's minstrelsy.

This is not all. Not only have we the pre-eminent
Nightingale, the Skylark, Woodlark, Song Thrush,
Blackbird, Garden Warbler, Blackcap, Sedge
Warbler, Willow Wren, Grey Linnet and a host of
others to scatter their sweet notes broadcast amidst
woods, gardens and gorse-strewn commons alike,
but in this country, nearly all birds of harsh and
discordant voice are, for some reason, absent. The
loud, meaningless chatter and jarring cries which
disturb the glades and forests of so many lands, are
here almost unknown. Whoever would hear the
true music of birds must come to England.

The British Warblers differ from each other in
important respects — in modes of nest-building, in
song, and largely in plumage; but they have all
marked characteristics in common. They are, for
the most part, summer migrants; reaching these
shores chiefly in April and departing before the
leaves have fallen from their beloved trees ; they are
all musical in differing degrees; they are mainly
insectivorous in diet, and they are all harmless; for
the small depredations amongst the fruit bushes,
principally the currant and the raspberry, which can
be laid to the charge of the Garden Warbler and
the Blackcap, cannot be treated seriously.

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 59

The British Hst of the Sylviidae — to give them
their scientific title — includes, according to Yarrell,
thirty species. Many of these are, of course, of
extremely rare occurrence.

The Alpine Accentor, for example, nearly akin
as it is to the familiar Hedge-sparrow, has been
known to appear in Great Britain on about twelve
occasions only. It is a form nc>t uncommon in
Central and Southern Europe, especially in the
Alps and P}Tenees, and is distinguished from the
truly British species by a reddish mark on its sides
resembling that of the Redwing. Unlike the
Hedge-sparrow, it does not perch upon trees or
bushes, but is usually seen upon the ground or on
rocks, and it is remarkable for its constant tameness,
being apparently regardless of man.

The Bluethroat, again, a delightful little warbler,
whose upper breast is of ultramarine blue, with a
light-coloured spot in the centre, is of almost equally
rare occurrence. It is well known in Continental
Europe, but its plumage varies in different localities
— a central red spot appearing upon the blue shield,
in place of the white or bay-coloured one. This
has given rise to the opinion that two or more
species exist. Years ago, the killing of a Blue-
throat upon British soil brought down upon the
vandals implicated a most scathing denunciation
from Ruskin.

The Black Redstart, a dusky variant of the
common English form, although its occurrences are
now too numerous to quote, is still, except in certain
localities — the coasts of Devon, Cornwall and the
Isle of Wight being the most favoured, an extremely

6o ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

rare bir'd. It is well known in various parts of
Europe, and is conspicuously common in Palestine.
It has the distinction of being one of the few
members of the Sylviid^e which are winter visitants
to Great Britain.

The Rufous Warbler can only by courtesy be
treated as a British bird, for the one or two examples
which have been identified were merely wind-driven
waifs from the South. This warbler is, with the
exception of the Great Reed Warbler, the largest
of its race, measuring about seven inches, and is
described as resembling a pale-coloured Nightin-
gale, with white tips and black spots on a broad
fan-shaped tail.

The Icterine Warbler, although it is common on
the Continent almost within sight of our shores,
has only been found in England on about eight
occasions. It resembles the Willow Wren in
appearance, but differs from it entirely in the
manner of nest-building. In place of the dome-
shaped nest secreted in the tangled herbage of the
shrubbery or in the recesses of a mossy bank, the
Icterine Warbler's nest is open and cup-shaped, and
is placed in the branches of a tree at some distance
from the ground. The song of this species is
especially loud and melodious.

The Orphean Warbler in appearance has much
in common with the Blackcap, the upper part of the
head being of a deep black hue. It is, however,
larger in size. The title Orphean w^ould appear to
be a misnomer, for its song is described as slight
and by no means striking. Its distribution on the

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 6i

Continent is erratic, and two or three occurrences
only are recorded for this country.

The Yellow-browed Warbler is also an extremely
rare bird, a few^ isolated appearances only having
been noted for the three kingdoms. It is little known
on the Continent, although Gatke states that it
occurs in small numbers annually on migration in
Heligoland. In appearance it has much of the char-
acter of the Golden-crested W^ren, the distinguish-
ing golden-orange head-band of the latter being
replaced by a light lemon-coloured streak above the
eye. The nesting site and eggs of this species Avere
first discovered by Mr. W. E. Brooke near Gul-
merg in Cashmere, in the spring of 187 1.

The Nightingale is a true summer visitor, the
males reaching England about the middle of April,
ten days before the arrival of the females, and
departing in September. In plumage it is not con-
spicuous. The upper surfaces are of a uniform
brown, and the throat is a greyish-white which
grows darker on the breast. Its length is about six
and a quarter inches.

The nest is built in a hedge or in thick under-
wood, and in England is placed in the lowest
branches or in the tangled grass beneath. In
Spain, Saunders states that he has found it in
cypress and myrtle trees, fully five feet from the
ground. It is loosely constructed of dead leaves and
coarse grass lined with root fibres. The eggs are
from four to six in number and are of a deep olive-
brow^n. If, to use Tennyson's thought, " the music

62 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

of the moon is hidden in the plain eggs of
the Nightingale," it may be worthy of note that the
same plain olive hue is repeated in the shell ^yhich
enshrines the music of the sun ; for in point of
colour the eggs of the Nightingale and of the Sky-
lark are singularly alike.

The young are hatched in June, and from this
time forward, as in the case of so many birds, the
song of the parent practically ceases.

The haunts of this bird in one of the southern
counties are described by Richard Jefferies as
follows : —

" The slender birch and ash poles are hung with
woodbine and wild hops, both growing in profu-
sion. A cream-coloured wall of woodbine in flower
extends in one spot, in another festoons of hops
hang gracefully, and so thick as to hide everything
beyond them. There is scarce a stole without its
woodbine or hops ; many of the poles, though
larger than the arm, are scored with spiral grooves
left by the bines. Under these bushes of woodbine
the Nightingales, when they first arrive in spring,
are fond of searching for food, and dart on a grub
with a low, satisfied ' kurr.' The place is so
favourite a resort that it might well be called Night-
ingale copse. Four or five may be heard singing
at once on a warm May morning, and at least two
may often be seen as well as heard at the same time.
They sometimes sing from the trees as well as from
the bushes; one was singing one morning on an
elm-tree branch which projected over the road, and
under which the van drivers jogged indifferently
along. Sometimes they sing from the dark foliage

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 6

o

of the Scotch firs. As the summer wanes they haunt
the hawthorn hedge by the roadside, leaving the
interior of the copse, and may often be seen on the
dry and dusty sward."

The distribution of the Nightingale in England is
most erratic. That a line drawn across York-
shire should roughly define its northern limit
is not surprising. Climatic and other considera-
tions might be put forward to explain its tendency
to cling to the south. But why are the south-western
counties, the lovely glades and coppices of Corn-
wall and West Devon, for example, rich as they
would seem in all that goes to make the Nightin-
gale's most favoured environment, so severely
tabooed by a bird which arrives in its thousands in
each recurring spring upon so long a line of the
southern coast? This is one of the recurring
problems in avian history, of which no solution,
based either on climatic conditions or on the ever-
convenient food supply, appears to be forthcoming.

That the Nightingale has some deep-seated reason
for its constancy to certain localities and its neglect
of others, finds confirmation in the failure of all
attempts to extend its range. It is recorded that
Mr. T. Penrice obtained many birds from Norfolk
which he liberated in his woods near Swansea, and
Sir John Sinclair, in Caithness, succeeded in rear-
ing large numbers, by placing the eggs procured
from Surrey in the nests of Robins. In all cases
the birds disappeared in September, never to return.

In Continental Europe the Nightingale is
unequally diffused, being abundant in some local-
ities, notably in parts of France and Spain, and

64 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

practically unknown in others. Its northern breed-
ing range is limited — the neighbourhood of Copen-
hagen being given as the highest latitude at which
eggs have been found.

It is not easy to speak soberly of the song of
the Nightingale. In all questions relating to art,
unanimous opinion is rare. The characters of taste
are so diverse that they find of necessity matter for
admiration in widely different objects. The supre-
macy which binds every critic, great and small
alike, helpless to its chariot wheels, is obviously of
the highest. It is the final test, and this test the
song of the Nightingale has long survived. In the
mind of the world it stands alone.

There is a mystery in the music of birds, a
mystery which transcends all merely technical laws
of harmony, which ceases to be a mere matter of
volume and quality of note. Nature's appeals, her
sunrises, snow-clad peaks, springing meadows and
hushed woodland recesses, are made constantly
through the single channel of the eye. As we
listen to the Nightingale, we feel that another line
of communication has been opened.

" Lord, what musick hast Thou provided for the
saints in Heaven, when Thou affordest bad men
such musick on earth."

Izaak Walton's enthusiasm for " the airy creature
which breathes such sweet sounds out of her little
instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to
think that miracles had not ceased," is an all-
pervading sentiment. It is possessed by poet and
by ploughman alike.

'^4V

St.-, v Ji JxiJk--

COCK REDSTART AT NESTING HOLE

HEX REDSTART AT NESTING E10LE

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 69

Like the Nightingale, the Redstart appears to
shun certain counties in the south-\vest of England.
In West Devonshire and Cornwall, for example, it
must be classed as a very rare bird. In plumage
the male is one of the most beautiful of the warbler
group. The bright ash-grey of the head and back
when contrasted with the jetty blackness of the
throat, renders the bird at once conspicuous. After
the manner of the Robin, Spotted Flycatcher and
others, the Redstart often chooses unconventional
nesting places. A photograph shows a nest in
a derelict tin bottle.

The Redstart is known in most countries in Con-
tinental Europe, and it breeds in high northern
latitudes even as far as the North Cape. In Fin-
land it is said to be the commonest of all the warblers.
These birds are true summer visitants, arriving in
England in mid-April and returning southwards in
August or early September. The young are said to
leave before the old. The song of the male is sweet,
and forms a welcome addition to the woodland
chorus, but is short and of no great power. It is
usually uttered from some commanding position,
the dead branch of a tall tree being often chosen.

In spring, when the opening leaves have spread
a veil of green over the forest trees, and the earliest
Swallows are skimming across the meadow, the
attention is attracted by the flicker of a red tail as a
small bird flits across the path through the wood.
Unlike the Wood Wren, he does not instantly dive
into the tangled recesses of the nearest thicket, as
though fearing that a human eye should rest upon
him even for a moment. Indeed, there is something

70 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

of the Robin in his manner, akhough he will by
no means allow so near an approach. As he alights
on the dead, drooping branch which overhangs the
way, the full beauty of his black and ashen-grey
plumage is clearly defined against the background
of the wood. When he reaches his perch, however,
he does not bend forw^ard with the jerkv mov^ement
characteristic of the Robin and the Wren. He
remains motionless save for his tail, which quivers
restlessly, moving horizontally like that of a dog,
and in this respect he differs, I think, from all other
birds. Sometimes he may be seen to dart from his
bough and seize a fly in mid-air; but more often he
drops quietly to the ground, where, amidst the
herbage of the hedgeside, or at the feet of the trees,
he finds the insects on which he chiefly feeds.

The number of caterpillars, flies, spiders, ants and
flving and creeping things which the warblers con-
sume, especially in the nestling season, must amount
to a vast sum. At this time the parent birds do not
content themselves with picking up a single insect
at a time; they continue to take them as they
occur, until the bill is filled, when they bear them
away to the hungry brood. Sometimes a single
fly, or several, will be held for a long time, whilst
others are being sought for. The manner of
arranging the insects in the bill is well shown in
the photograph.

Of the two Whitethroats which frequent Eng-
land, the Greater is by far the more common.
Although it is a bird by no means conspicuous in
plumage, and shuns observation when approached,

WniTETHKOAT FEEDING YOUNG

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 73

it usually makes its presence known, either by its
eccentric movements in the air or by its loud and
somewhat jarring song. The general colouring of
the back and w-ings is reddish-brown, which merges
into smoke-grey on the head and neck. As its
name implies, the throat is pure white. The nest
is usually placed in the depths of the tangled
undergrow^th which skirts hedgerows, in low-
bushes and amidst long grass and rankly growing
weeds .

A true summer visitor, the Greater Whitethroat
iS; perhaps with the exception of the Willow Wren,
the most familiar of the warblers from across the
seas. Few^ birds are more intimately bound up
with the summer life of green English lanes than
the Nettle-creeper. In the gorse by the w^ayside,
in the little nook by the wood, in the neglected
hedges where the lush grasses, springing high,
interlace w-ith drooping bramble and honeysuckle,
transforming the dank ditch into a leafy sanctuary
through which the fiercest sunbeams barely pene-
trate; here in this little green world of his own,
the Whitethroat lives. At first one is attracted
by the quick, jerky note coming from the deeps
of the hedge, but soon, as the eye searches the
interstices, a glimpse of brown is seen moving
furtively in the tangle of bough and leaf. But the
small singer is too restless to remain long concealed.
In a moment more, as though in a violent hurry, he
bustles to the topmost spray, his crest raised and his
snowy throat swelling with irrepressible song. Even
now, swaying on the topmost pinnacle of spray, with
every fibre of his being vibrating with the joy of

74 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

summer, his exuberance demands further expres-
sion. With a mad gambol, he tosses himself into
the air still singing, and then drops back to the
hedge, where the eye, still directed by protesting
chirps and gurgling sounds, may follow him a little
way, until at length he is lost in the endless laby-
rinth of leaf. Here, following the rule that when
a bird's song is at its cheeriest incubation is in
progress, the nest may be looked for. It is not easy
to find, but as one proceeds to press back tiie rank
vegetation, his little brown mate slips silently away
almost from beneath the hand. I4ere is the nest
somewhat loosely woven amidst the lower stems,
and in its deep recess the stone-coloured eggs with
their dusky freckling may be dimly seen.

It mav be noted here that although the AMiite-
throat constantlv uses the branches of the umbel-
liferous plants for a resting place, in my experience
it shares with all other birds in a dislike for them as
supports for the nest.

The Lesser Whitethroat may be distinguished
from the preceding species not only by its smaller
size, but by the distinct dark patch which extends
about the eve. In place of the rufous hue, the head,
neck and back are of a greyish-brown. The nest,
too, is shallower, and is usually placed at a some-
what higher elevation. The eggs, four to five in
number, are whiter than those of the Greater White-
throat, and are boldly spotted with deep olive-brown.
This bird is also a true summer visitor, and in
general habits resembles its larger congener, the
chief distinction being that it frequents the tops of

LESSER VVHITETHROAT ON NEST

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 77

lofty trees, whereas the Greater is essentially a
hedge-loving bird. Its song, too, is much softer,
and has little of the insistent quality which compels
attention. It is generally believed to sing later in
the year than any of the summer warblers.

The Garden Warbler is another true summer
visitor. After wintering in Cape Colony it travels
through Northern Africa and Asia Minor, and
reaches our shores somewhat later than most of its
congeners, rarely appearing before the end of April.
Like the Nightingale and others of the group, the
males usually arrive from ten to twelve days before
the females. In common with other great singers,
the plumage of the Garden Warbler is inconspicu-
ous. The whole of the upper surfaces are of a
uniformlv delicate brown, faintly rufous, save that
certain of the wing-feathers are of darker hue
margined with white. Above the eye is a lightish
streak, and the throat and breast are of yellowish-
white. The bill is comparatively short and thick,
and in this respect it differs from all other birds
with which it is closely allied.

The Garden Warbler is pretty generally dis-
tributed throughout England, although in common
with certain other warblers it appears to shun the
south-western counties, Cornwall in particular.

The nest is usually placed in low brushwood or in
any tall and tangled vegetation to be found about
the garden and shrubberies, as, for instance, amidst
the peas and pea-sticks, and more rarely in the ivy
of a wall.

As a musician the Garden Warbler stands third

78 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

on the list of the British Sylviidse — the Nightingale
and the Blackcap respectively claiming the first and
second places. It is an active and restless bird, but,
although seeming to shun observation, it has none
of the skulking habits of the Grasshopper and Dart-
ford \A^arblers. On the contrary, \vhen alarnied, it
usually takes refuge in the dense foliage of the
higher trees. It is known to consume a certain
quantity of the smaller kinds of fruit, but in view of
the number of insects which it destroys it cannot be
regarded as a foe to the gardener. In common with
the Blackcap, which in many wavs it resembles, the
power and volume of its song at its best is really
remarkable.

In plumage the adult male Blackcap, although its
colours are delicately subdued, is still one of the
most beautiful of the British warblers. The upper
part of the head is jet-black, the edges sharply
defined and the cheeks ash-grey, this colour merg-
ing into ash-brow^n on the back and wings. The
under surfaces are of a fainter ash-grev, tinged as
in the Whitethroat with a pale rufous hue at the
flanks. In the female the black head is replaced by
a brownish hue. Curiously unlike any other of the
warbler family, the female Blackcap is distinctly
larger than the male. It has been stated that the
male Blackcap loses the distinguishing black crown
in the winter and assumes the browner cap of the
female. This, however, would not appear to be
usually the case. The nest of the Blackcap is rather
smaller and more compact than that of the Garden
Warbler, and the site chosen is generally at a toler-

GARDEN WARBLER ON NEST

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 8i

able elevation in one of the taller growing shrubs or
in a hedge. Although this warbler is properly
regarded as a summer visitor to the British Islands,
it is not unfrequently met with in the depth of
winter. Many of its occurrences in Ireland are
recorded for this season, and Mr. Evans states it is
to be found in the Isle of Jura in the Hebrides, all
through the year, and that he believes it to be
resident.

Like the Garden Warbler, the Blackcap is shy
and restless, except in the nesting season, when
each parent bird takes its turn in incubation, and it
then admits of the nearest approach, especially in
the case of the female. It frequents gardens,
orchards and young plantations, and the fine quality
of its song is universallv recognized.

Few things strike the American naturalists more
strongly than the performance of our three great
warblers — the Nightingale, Blackcap and Garden
Warbler. The army of small wood warblers in
New' England is far in excess of ours, but, for the
most part, their song is faint and lisping, and bears
a close relation to the size of the bird — Phoebe or
Vireo — from which it proceeds. Here, on some
bright INIay morning, when the elm and the oak are
bursting into full leaf, the deep, low notes are heard
for the first time, growing louder and more jubilant
as the summer advances. The singer is not readilv
seen, for each of the three masters is content, for the
most part, to pour out his strains from the depths of
the sheltering leaves. The music falls upon the
ear, now soft, and filled with infinitely tender modu-
lations; now- loud, with a sudden burst of melody

82 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

which makes the glade and hill resound; then sink-
ing again into deep internal murmurs; yet in all
suggesting a vast reserve of power held artistically
in check. Here, surely, is not only a great singer,
but, of necessity, a fairly large bird- — at least thrush-
like in size. No — the marvellous song dies down.
A glimpse of sober grey is caught amidst the leaves,
and soon a plain little bird, five or six inches in
length, moves unobtrusively to the end of an outer-
most spray. For the American naturalist, the song
of the Nightingale, and, in a lesser degree, of the
Blackcap and Garden Warbler — followed by an
appearance of the bird itself, is always something
of a revelation.

The three small warblers — the Wood Wren, the
Willow Wren, and the Chiffchaff — have so many
characteristics in common, which set them apart
from their congeners, that they appear to fall into a
natural group. In size and plumage they are so
much alike that the differences (in the case of the
Willow Wren and Chiffchaff especially) can only be
detected when the birds are carefully compared ;
they are all strictly insectivorous, never, after the
manner of the Blackcap, Garden Warbler and
others, making raids upon the fruit-trees, and they
each build a domed nest which is placed upon the
ground, and is disproportionately large in com-
parison with the size of the bird. On the other
hand, in their notes and in certain of their habits
they are widely dissimilar. For one who has once
learned to recognize the monotonous insect-like cry
of the Wood Wren ; the bold, breezy challenge of

WOOD WARBLER AT NEST

WILLOW WARBLER

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 85

the Chiffchaff, and the sweetly plaintive carol of the
Willow Wren, anv confusion of the species would
appear to be impossible.

Of the three, the Wood W^ren is slightly the
largest, its total length being 5f inclies as against
4f for the Chiffchaff, and 5 for the Willow Wren.
In colour, the head, back and wings are of a
yellowish olive-green, and the throat and breast of
a delicate sulphur-yellow merging into pure white
beneath. One distinguishing mark is the bright-
yellow streak above the eye, which, although it
occurs in both the Willow Wren and Chiffchaff, is,
in the two latter, slightly less clearly defined.

The distinctions between the Wood Wren and the
Willow Wren are that the former is somewhat
larger, has comparatively longer wings, and is
greener above and more clearlv white beneath. The
difference between the Willow Wren and the Chiff-
chaff, on the other hand, lies in the fact that the
Chiffchaff is slightly smaller, has obviously shorter
wings, is less yellow in hue, and that the legs in
place of the lighter brown are of a dark purplish-
brown.

The nest of the W^ood Wren may at once be
distinguished from those of its two congeners by the
fact that it is lined with hair and never with feathers.
It is built on the ground, hidden in the tangled
herbage on some slight slope at the feet of the forest
trees, and generally in the least frequented part of
the woods. It is a somewhat noteworthy fact that
so many woodland birds, in choosing a nesting site,
select the edges of clearings, or the banks on the
roadsides, rather than the deeper recesses of the

86 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

wood itself. On a slight declivity bounding a path
through an old plantation, along which many
passengers took their way daily, I have found
several Willow Wrens nesting at short distances in
situations which rendered them liable to be dis-
turbed by every passing dog, whilst many appar-
ently favourable localities within the plantation itself
were tenantless. It w^ould seem, as in the cases of
the Sparrow, the House Martin and the Rook, that
these little warblers instinctively seek the proximity
of man, and so willingly sacrifice the security of a
deeper seclusion. The Wood Wren, on the other
hand, claims no kinship with humanity. It spends
its summer life in the summit of the loftiest trees
where the sounds of a work-a-day world can reach it
but faintly, and its little brood is reared upon some
remote bank amidst the wood-tangle and the blue-
bells, where footsteps, other than those of the rabbit
or the pheasant, rarely come.

If it were not for its distinctive note the Wood
Wren might easily be overlooked even in places
where it occurs most commonly. The Garden
Warbler and the Blackcap, reticent as they may be,
come at times into the open, and may be seen upon
the ground or upon some low exposed bough of the
apple-tree. The Wood Wren is rarely so seen. It
is when wandering in the older w^oods or in the
avenues where the mighty beeches and elms, stand-
ing far apart, tower to the sky and intermingle their
green branches across the way, that the first intima-
tion of its presence reaches us.

From the loftiest summits the cry comes — " chit,
chit, chit, chit, chitr, tr, tr, tr, tr, tre," now pausing

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 87

for a little while, to be repeated again and again
with the same brief intervals intervening; a quiver-
ing, monotonous little song, yet expressing the very
spirit of the serene heights and leafy solitudes
amidst which the little warbler takes his devious
way .

Standing far below on the carpet of fallen leaves,
and with the great boles rising on every hand, one
may gaze long into the maze of leaf and branch
before a glimpse of the singer can be gained.
Following the sound from spot to spot, one seems
to pursue a mere wandering voice, but at length
where the trees grow thinner a fluttering of tiny
wings may be caught. A single bough stands clear
against the sky, and here the Wood Wren alights.
Quietly it takes its course along the slender spray,
now pausing to utter its tremulous notes, which are
accompanied by a sympathetic quivering of wings
and tail ; now becoming silent as it explores each
leaf and twig for its imperceptible food. A moment
later it flits into the deeper woods and is seen no
more.

It is noteworthy how many country people — wood-
men and others — w^hen questioned, have no know-
ledge whatever of the size and appearance of this
bird, whose notes they have heard in the trees above
their heads, summer by summer, from their earliest
childhood.

The Willow Wren is the most familiar of the
summer warblers, not merely by reason of its greater
abundance, but because of its perfect freedom from
the shyness which marks so many of its tribe. In

8S ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

plumage, the head, back and wings are of an oHve-
green hue, and the throat and breast yellowish-white
merging into almost pure white beneath. Above
the eye is a yellowish streak. Its nest is practically
identical with that of the Chiffchaff, and the large,
dome-shaped mass is lined with a cosy bed of soft
curling feathers, many of which have been brought
from long distances. This nest formation has given
rise to two local names — Oven-bird and Feather-
poke — which are applied to the Willow Wren and
Chiffchaff indiscriminately. The nest is placed
sometimes upon level ground amidst the grass and
undergrowth of plantation and shrubbery, but more
frequentlv upon some bank overgrown with tangled
herbage, which skirts the country lane or the path
through the wood.

Mr. Metcalfe states that he has found the nest in
thick bushes two feet from the ground, and on one
occasion in a hole made by a ^Nlarsh Tit in a gate-
post. The photograph shows another unusual
circumstance — a Robin's old nest in a brick wall five
feet from the ground appropriated by a Willow
Wren. This nest was re-lined and domed over by
the newcomer. Mr. ^Metcalfe remarks that the
Robin had already reared her brood that season in
the same site, and that the spring was so winter-
like that he had twice cleared away the snow from
the nest when the Redbreast was sitting. The
exceptional severity of the season may account for
the AVillow Wren's departure from its usual habit.

As the seasons imperceptibly merge one into the
other, the advent of each is marked by a visible sign,

O

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 91

usually by some flower or bird. A day arrives when
the tardiest tree is covered with leaf ; when the Swifts
are soaring in the cloudless sky and the Corncrake
calls from the meadow ; then we say, careless of the
calendar, that summer has come. Soon now the
fields are swept bare of lush grass, and the corn
ripens to the harvest. Still it is summer, for the
Swallows are flying high, and the later roses are
hardly yet coming into bloom ; it is only the earlier
singing-birds that are hushed in the wood. No;
roses and Swallows notwithstanding, the summer is
gone. A Robin from a barely yellowing bough
proclaims the autumn.

But the snowtime, at least, is as yet far away.
This late October day is warm as in June. Then,
across the North Sea come the Fieldfares, and their
sharp rattling cry, heard high in the air, is the warn-
ing that they are bringing winter on their wings.
Later, the countryside is black and lifeless, save
where the snow flecks the dull green of the larches,
or a belated Rook drifts in the sky. But look more
closely; already, in sheltered places, the snowdrop
and aconite are peeping from the earth, and in a
little while we may look for the Wheatear flitting
again from clod to clod on the still frozen fallow.

Spring comes with the aconite and the Wheatear,
but despite the flower and the bird she has not yet
taken the land for her own. But the day of her
accession is near. For a week or more the Chaffinch
and the Great Tit have been singing of it. It opens
at last warmly and sunnily. New flowers spring on
every hand. A gauze-like veil of green covers the
fine black pencillings of the elm-sprays. And from

92 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

amidst the opening leaves in the Uttle plantation by
the river, come the first true notes of spring : the
notes which have in them all the promise of the
nearing summer days : the song of the first Willow
Wren.

The small yellow bird is not at all anxious to
evade attention. As we pause on the little grassy
path, we see it at once, moving on the outer boughs
of one of the nearest trees. A frail, delicate little
creature, it seems, to have braved the crossing of
continents and of seas. Now it sidles along the
bough, the pale yellowish-green of the newly burst-
ing foliage harmonizing with its plumes, and stand-
ing on tiptoe, with fluttering wings, it seizes an
insect from the leaf above its head. Now it rests
for a moment to utter again the warbling notes w'hich
we heard from the road. The song is not wanting
in volume and power — indeed, these are remarkable
in view of the size of the bird — but is none the less
sweet and restful, with something of the murmur of
the river in it, together with some sympathetically
human quality wdiich eludes definition. The
American naturalist, Burroughs, speaks of it as one
of the most melodious strains he heard in England,
exhibiting to the full the best qualities of the New
England singing-birds. " A long, tender, delicious
warble," he writes, " eminently pure and sw^eet —
the song of the Chaffinch refined and idealized : a
song, perhaps, in a minor key, feminine rather than
masculine, but which touches the heart.

'That strain again : it had a dying fall.'
The song of the Willow Wren has a dying fall.

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 93

It mounts up full and round, then runs down the
scale and expires upon the air in a gentle murmur."

The Willow Wren, unlike many of its congeners,
has few local prejudices. Wherever trees are to be
found, in plantation or copse, in garden or orchard,
there it may be seen, flitting happily amidst the
boughs, often darting into the air to seize a fly and
returning to its perch.

Frequently several may be heard singing together
within an area of a few yards.

The Chiffchaff, although generally known as a
summer visitor, appears to have the strongest attach-
ment to England of any of its kin. Not only is it
the first to reach this country and the latest to leave,
but it often elects to spend the whole winter in the
British Isles, especially in the more sheltered parts
of Devon and Cornwall. In many of its habits,
particularly in the manner of nest-building, it
resembles the W^illow Wren ; the nest, however,
being generally placed at a greater elevation.

The chief difference lies in the song — if, indeed,
the Chift'chaft's cry can be called a song- — consisting
as it does merely of two notes frequently repeated.
Unlike most warblers, which usually become silent
w^ien the voung are hatched, the Chiffchaft' is vocal
far into the autumn, and instances are given of its
notes having been heard in the depths of winter.

It is an active, restless bird, but although it has
little of the Willow Wren's gentle and confiding
disposition, it still lacks the love of deep seclusion
which is so marked a characteristic of the Wood
Wren. It is rarely seen on the lowlier boughs of

94 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

apple-tree or hawthorn ; its breezy, ringing notes,
" chiff-chaff, chift'-chaftV' rising and falHng, uttered
again and again, with brief pauses intervening,
usually reaching us from the very topmost bough of
elm or oak, the bird itself being clearly visible
against the sky.

Like the Willow Wren and the Spotted Fly-
catcher, it makes frequent excursions into the air in
pursuit of flies, and I have seen it, on occasions,
follow its prey nearly to the ground. When the
capture is made, however, it at once returns to its
coign of vantage on the tree-top.

The Golden-crested Wrens

Two species of Crested Wrens — the smallest birds
known in Europe — are found in England. The Fire-
crested Wren's inclusion in the British list rests,
however, on comparatively few occurrences, mainly
in Cornwall and generally in the depth of winter.
Both are of a delicate olive-green hue, and bear the
crown of yellow and orange edged by two black
streaks, but the Fire-crest is distinguished by the
brighter and more extended orange of the head
merging almost into scarlet, and by a conspicuous
dark streak which extends across the eye.

The Golden-crest, on the other hand, may be
regarded as a fairly familiar bird, especially in the
neighbourhood of fir trees. This species appears to
form a connecting link between the true warblers
and the Titmice, with the latter of which it has
many habits in common.

In the deep fir woods the attention is often

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 97

attracted by a tiny piping note, "si-si-si," and a
diminutive bird flits into view. If one remains quite
still, it appears to have little fear of the intruder, and
it soon draws nearer, exploring the feathery
branches of the firs, often hanging head-down-
wards from the finer sprays. Sometimes it will
come almost within reach of the hand, and as it
depends from the bough, the golden hue of the
crown can be clearly seen against the dark green
spines. In a little while several may be seen, for
small family parties, which are probabl}^ the comple-
ment of the previous year's nest, generally appear
together. Sometimes in early spring, it pauses to
utter a soft warbling song, its tiny frame quivering
in unison with its notes, but for the most part it is
silent, save -for the call-note, which is repeated
directly on alighting after each of its short flights,
as though to make those following aware of the
direction it has taken.

The Golden-crest is an early bird to breed, the
eggs being laid bv the end of March or beginning of
April. The nest is a beautiful example of construc-
tion : a tiny cup of moss-green and silvery grey,
bearing some resemblance to that of the Chaffinch,
but instead of being fixed in some fork, it is care-
fully woven to the drooping sprays beneath the fir-
branch. As the elevation is fairly high and the very
extremity of the bough is usually chosen, the nest
is by no means easy for the collector to obtain. The
photograph shows a nest cut from the branch and
placed upon the ground so that the eggs may be
seen.

Although the Golden-crest is resident in Great
7

98 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Britain, and is rarely seen to attempt a sustained
flight, the instinct for migration is strong within it
as a species. At the end of October vast flocks
often appear on the east coast, arriving a little in
advance of the Woodcocks. The Golden-crest has
thus come to be known, in some places, as the
Woodcock pilot.

Spurn Point, on the Yorkshire coast, is one of the
first landing-places of these tiny travellers on their
way south from the far-off Scandinavian fir forests.
Here on the sand-dunes, overgrown with marram-
grass and bordered on the south by the vast mud-
flats of the Humber, they may be seen flitting in all
directions amidst the bents, often so weary that they
make little effort to evade the passer-by. The late
Mr. Cordeaux, in his Birds of the Humher District,
states that, belated in the fog, they sometimes
descend upon the North Sea fishing smacks, and
that manv hundreds perish in the sea.

Shrikes and Flycatchers

Of the four Shrikes — the Greater and Lesser
Grey, the Woodchat and the Red-backed, the last
alone may be said to be a familiar bird.

The Great Grey Shrike is a winter visitor to Great
Britain, whilst the Lesser appears on the summer
migration. Each is of more or less uncommon
occurrence. Of the Woodchat, so few well-attested
appearances had been noted that, until compar-
ativelv recent years, doubts were expressed as to
the propriety of including it in the British list
at all.

YOUNG RED-BACKED SHRIKES

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS loi

The Red-backed Shrike is a summer visitor to
these islands. It is generally familiar in the more
southerly counties, growing rarer to the north. The
adult male, with its chestnut back and wings, and
black and grey head, is a handsome and conspicu-
ous bird. The nest is large in relation to the
Shrike's size, and is usually placed in a high hedge
or bush. The eggs, four to five in number, vary
very much in colour. They are usually of a
yellowish-white marked with brown, but examples
are constantly found of a greenish or salmon-pink
ground colour with blotches of lilac and light-red.
In common with other members of its family, the
chief characteristics of the Red-backed Shrike is the
curious habit of forming a larder in the hedges.
Here mice, birds and beetles are found impaled
upon sharp thorns to await the returning hunger of
their captors. The practice of storing up food for
future use, although commonly adopted by certain
orders of mammals, is rarely a part of the domestic
economy of birds, and never in so marked a degree
as in the Shrikes. It is from this habit that the
familiar name Butcher-bird is derived.

In the summer woodlands, especially in the south,
one's attention is often attracted bv a small chirping
note many times repeated. It is so slight in quality
that it would appear to proceed from one of the
smaller finches. But soon a bird of fairly large
size is perceived, perched in the manner of a fly-
catcher, on the topmost bough of the tall hedge
which skirts the wood. Then it becomes clear that
the notes, which seemed to be so nearly at hand,
really proceed from the more distant Shrike. He is

I02 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

reticent, and on our approach he flits away along
the hedgeside, followed by his browner-plumaged
mate, and so disappears into the wood.

From his coign of vantage on the hedgetop he
was watching for his prev, and should one of the
larger insects — bee or May chafer — blunder by, he
would at once have taken it on the wing. From
the fact that small birds are often found hanging
upon the thorns, it is evident that these form a
regular part of his diet, but they, together with the
mice, are usually pounced upon secretly. It is
recorded by Yarrell, however, that a Red-backed
Shrike has been seen in eager chase of a Black-
bird, and Saunders states that it has been known
to strike down a flying Sand-Martin and to carry
it oft'.

Three Flycatchers are included in the British
list. Of these, the Red-breasted owes its place to
a few occurrences only. Of the remaining two, the
Spotted and the Pied Flycatchers, the former
is bv far the more common, and may be described
as one of the most familiar of our woodland
birds.

One peculiarity of the Spotted Flycatcher lies in
its catholicity of taste in the selection of a nesting
site. It vies with the Robin in the choice of curious
and original situations. Normally the nest is found
in the creepers of the trellis, in the small branches
growing from the bole of an elm, on the beam of
an outhouse — hence its name. Beam-bird — or in the
broken side of an old wall. But other and more
precarious positions are constantly adopted — the

SPOTTED FLYCATCHER ON NEST

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 105

shelf of a bookcase in an upper room, the top of
a door, inside a broken lamp or stove, on a water-
ing-can hanging in a conservatory, on a battered
old hat fixed on a pea-stick as a scarecrow, and in
other places too numerous to mention.

The eggs, four to five in number, are of a greenish-
white ground colour, thickly speckled and streaked
with red and rusty brown.

The photograph gives a nesting site which may
be taken as typical.

In plumage, the adult birds are of a uniform
olive-brown, the shades merging into a dull white
on the throat and breast. The size is a little over
five inches. In the young the back and wings are
spotted with much lighter hues.

The Spotted Flycatcher is a summer visitor,
appearing in Great Britain in April and leaving in
September.

This little bird, associated as it is with the sun-
shine and the flowers of happy English gardens, is
a general favourite. Unlike the Wood Wren and
many of the other warblers, which love to hide them-
selves in the verdure of the spring leaves, and whose
presence is often known only by their note, the
Spotted Flycatcher appears to delight in being con-
spicuous. Perched upon the back of the garden-
seat, on the post of a tennis net, on the railings
which skirt the lawn, or upon the single dead
branch which projects from the foliage of the oak,
he remains all through the long summer day about
the homestead. Ever and anon, he darts from his
coign of vantage, performs a graceful evolution in
the air, when the snap of his tiny beak may be heard

io6 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

as he seizes a fly, and returns to his post like a
sentinel.

Then from his nest, built, it may be, in the
jasmine or the rose-tree which climbs about the
verandah, within a few feet of the door, he brings
out his mottled little ones, and here they sit upon
some trailing bough, lifting their little wings
eagerly when the ever alert parent appears with a
fly, happy in their new world of leaves and flowers
and sunshine.

The Pied Flycatcher is also a summer visitor, but
is much less common than the Spotted. Its dis-
tribution is irregular in England, the species
occurring most frequently perhaps in Westmor-
land and Cumberland. Its nest is usually placed
in a hole in a tree at a low elevation, and more rarely
in a wall. Often the stumps in wood clearings are
utilized. Here, on a bedding composed mainly of
oak-leaves lined with dried grass, the six or even
nine eggs of uniform pale-blue are laid.

The length of the Pied Flycatcher is a trifle less
than that of the Spotted, but the former is much
more striking in plumage. Indeed, the clear black
and white markings of the adult male give it the
appearance of a miniature Magpie.

On migration it is often found in localities which
would appear to offer few attractions to a woodland-
loving bird. When seal shooting in August at the
Vee Skerries — a detached reef of rock w^ell-nigh
submerged at high tide which lies far to the west
of the Shetlands — I saw several small birds flitting
about amidst the boulders. These were easily

PIED FLYCATCHER AT NESTING HOLE

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS iii

identified as immature Pied Flycatchers which had
ahghted on that desolate spot on their autumn
migration.

In its summer home amidst the English woods
the Pied Flycatcher is a lively and interesting bird,
and its black and white plumage as it glances
amidst the dark green leaves, renders it at once
noticeable. It is, however, far more reticent than
its spotted congener, and will rarely allow so near
an approach.

It feeds principally upon insects, but unlike the
Spotted Flycatcher it does not appear to take them
on the wing.

The photograph shows the male approaching the
nesting hole in an old oak-tree.

Cuckoos

Three species of Cuckoo are described as British.
Two, however, the Great Spotted and the American
Yellow-billed, are the veriest stragglers, and their
inclusion rests on a few isolated occurrences. The
common Cuckoo, on the other hand, is one of the
most familiar of British birds, not so much bv
reason of its abundance, as by its possession of
certain marked characteristics which at once arrest
attention.

The Cuckoo is a somewhat late summer visitant,
rarely reaching England, especially the more
northerly parts, before mid-April, the old birds
departing again about the end of July, leaving the
young to follow. Directly on arrival, it makes its
presence known by its familiar echoing note,
" cuck-oo, cuck-oo," usually uttered from one of the

112 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

upper branches of a tree. As the summer advances,
the cry becomes ahiiost incessant, and is frequently
heard in the midst of the night. At this season,
the large, grey, hawk-like bird may be seen wing-
ing its way from tree to tree, often crying as it
flies. In June, the note loses its clear sonorous
quality, and, before the end of July is reached, it
usually ceases altogether.

The female Cuckoos are less numerous than the
males, and they lead a more secluded life in the
deeps of the woodlands.

The parasitic habit of the Cuckoo has been the
theme of countless dissertations. How it comes to
be devoid of the maternal instinct, which is one of
the most powerful motive forces in animated Nature ;
by what discriminating processes it selects nests
suitable for the foisting of its egg ; how the egg is
inserted in nesting recesses far too small to admit
of the entrance of the female bird; how and b_y
whom the legitimate eggs and nestlings are ejected
— all these form questions to which an endless
number of answers have been supplied, with their
corresponding refutations.

The broad facts are now pretty well agreed upon,
althouo^h the initial mvsterv remains untouched. In
the first place, the parasitic habit is not peculiar to
our Cuckoo ; it is shared by others of its Old World
relatives, and in America, by birds not at all related
to it. Again, although the nests of insectivorous
birds, especially those of the Meadow-pipit, Hedge-
sparrow and Pied Wagtail, are usually chosen, this
is by no means invariably the case, Cuckoo's eggs
having been found in the nests of no less than

CUCKOO FIVE DAYS OLD, HAVING JUST EJECTED YOUNG
MEADOW-PIPIT AND EGG

BIRDS OF THE WOODLANDS 117

seventy-eight species, including those of Finches,
Jays, Magpies, and even of the Little Grebe. In
the latter instances, it may be supposed that even
if the young were hatched, the foster-parents would
fail to support them.

It has also been stated that the Cuckoo actually
determines the colour of her eggs, and adapts them
to the hue of those in the nest which she usurps.
This is not altogether borne out by the facts, for
her greyish-green eggs, closely mottled with deeper
grey, are constantly found in the nest of the Hedge-
sparrow. At the same time, Mr. Metcalfe informs
me that he has found a Cuckoo's egg of a uniform
pale blue in a Hedge-sparrow's nest, and many
other examples are recorded. In the Natural His-
tory Museum at South Kensington there is a special
case of clutches of eggs amongst which the Cuckoo
has deposited hers, which certainly show a marked
adaptation of colour.

In regard to the placing of the egg, it is now
known that the female first discovers what she
deems to be a suitable home, lays an egg on the
ground adjacent to it, then deliberately carries the
egg in her bill and deposits it in the alien nest, the
act of intrusion being constantly resented bv the
owners, although they subsequently brood the egg
with the most sedulous care.

Then follows what has been described as one of
the most remarkable chapters in Natural Historv.
The Cuckoo's egg^ notwithstanding its greater size,
is usually hatched either a little before, or at the
same time, as those of the rightful householder.
The young monster, therefore, finds himself associ-

ii8 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

ated with the eggs or callow nestlings of the bird
whose nest is invaded. At once he shows signs of
restlessness. He appears to examine, as it were,
his neighbours, pressing beneath them his bare
wing-blades as though to test their weight. By slow
degrees he works the egg or nestling higher, until
at length it rests in the curiously deep depression
which Nature has hollowed in his back. Then,
moving backwards, and clinging with his claws,
by a desperate effort he hoists his burden clear over
the nest side.

Mr. Metcalfe's remarkable photograph shows the
Cuckoo two days old in the act of ejecting a young
Meadow-pipit. In this case there were two Cuckoo's
eggs in the nest, an unusual thing. It will be seen
that the interloper has already thrown out the
Pipit's egg and the Cuckoo's as well. The second
photograph shows a Cuckoo, five days old, resting
after the labour of evicting a callow Pipit and egg.

YOUNG CUCKOO

THRUSHES

Yarrell includes nine species of this family in
the British list. Of these, White's, the Black-
throated and the Rock Thrushes are the rarest of
stray visitors.

The inclusion of White's Thrush rests upon about
eight occurrences. Of the Black-throated Thrush
a single example is noted, and of the Rock Thrush
three, one only of which, the bird now figured in
Yarrell's British Birds, can be regarded as well
attested.

Of the six remaining species five may be regarded
as familiar tree-loving birds, the Ring Ouzel alone
neglecting the woodlands to find a haunt amidst
rocks and heathery places.

The name of the Mistle Thrush has been the
subject of many learned treatises. Even now, no
united opinion appears to have been arrived at by
the authorities. Saunders uses the word ?^listle,
and Eagle Clarke, Missel, whilst Yarrell and Lil-
ford adopt the full title of Mistletoe Thrush. As all
the names are derived from the plant upon which
the bird feeds, the last is probably correct. Still,
seeing that popular usage has sanctified the abbre-
viation, we adopt it here, and as the ancient spelling
of misseltoe has now been changed to mistletoe, we
take mistle as the better of the two shortened forms.

123

124 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

The relation between the Alistle Thrush and the
parasitic plant from which its title is taken, has
formed a theme for discussion in the works of many
ancient writers. Upon this subject Mv. G. W.
Murdoch has the following interesting note : — " The
propagation of the mistletoe plant by the agency of
the Mistle Thrush was believed in by Aristotle
{Hist, An., Book IX. 96); by Pliny (who cribbed
extensively from the great Greek's natural history
writing); by the poets, and by the sixteenth century
English naturalists. The theory was that the bird
lived largely on the berries of the mistletoe plant
when it could obtain them ; that it did not digest
them, but discharged them in almost perfect con-
dition on the branches of trees, to the bark of which
they adhered, and that so grafted they blossomed
and throve. This was thought to be absurd by
Bacon {Sylva Sylvarum — Century VI.), and his
inductive refutation is here given in the original
spelling, use of capital letters, and italicized words
from the edition of 1627.

" ' We finde no Super-Plant, that is a Formed
Plant, but ]\Iisseltoe. They have an idle Tradition,
that there is a Bird, called a Missel-Bird, that
feedeth upon a Seed, which many times shee cannot
digest, and so expelleth it whole : which falling
upon a Bough of a Tree that hath some Rift, put-
teth forth the ^lisseltoe. But this is a Fable : For
it is not probable, that Birds should feed upon that
they cannot digest. But allow that, yet it cannot
be for other Reasons : For first, it is found hut upon
certain Trees: And these Trees bare no such Frnit,
as may allure that Bird to sit, and feed upon them.

THRUSHES 125

It may be that the Bird feedeth upon Misseltoe-
Berries, and so is often found there : Which may
have given occasion to the Tale. But that \vhich
maketh an end of the Question, is that Misseltoe
hath been found to put forth under the Boughes and
not (onely) above the Boughes : So it cannot be
anything which falleth upon the Bough.' "

This dictum was supported by Browne in his
Pseiidoxia Epidcmica, or Inquiries into ]^iilgar
Errors (Book H.).

Mr. Murdoch goes on to say: "Botanists and
naturahsts followed these eminent authorities with
slavish trust up to comparatively recent times, but
the veracitv and perspicacity of the ancients was
finallv established by the late Anton Kerner Von
Marilaun in his great botanical work, Pflanc;en-
lebcn. Of course certain birds often swallow sub-
stances thev cannot digest, and these are used as
aids to digestion. In the case of the Alistle Thrush,
the viscous mass surrounding the undigested berries
discharged on a branch, following the laws of gravi-
tation, is conveyed to the sides and even under-
parts, where it remains cemented, and in due
time the seeds take root and flourish in parasitic
form."

It is with something of relief that we turn from
these weighty matters to meet the ]\Iistle Thrush in
the open air. He is one of the earliest birds to sing.
Perched on the topmost bough of some lofty tree,
buffeted bv the stormy wind and hail of a winter's
morning, the Storm-clock — well named — hurls forth
his loud, hoarse notes as though in defiance of the

126 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

hostile elements. His performance may not reach
a very high musical standard when compared with
the resonant melodies of the Song Thrush or the
flute-like pipings of the Blackbird. But Nature
chooses her minstrels carefully. As the Nightin-
gale's note accords with the dim eventide, the Lark's
with the open sun-filled sky, the Willow Wren's
with its setting of freshly budding leaves, and the
Curlew^'s cry with vast desolate stretches of moor-
land, so the voice of the Mistle Thrush truly ex-
presses the spirit of the storm, of wind-lashed
branches, and of dark, swiftly-moving clouds.

This Thrush is not only the largest of its race,
but is also the earliest to breed. The nest is con-
spicuously placed in the fork of some tree, often
before any trace of foliage has appeared to hide it.
The parent birds have a well-earned reputation for
boldness in defence of their nestlings, and M. Vian
states — asserting with easv confidence a " fact "
which is constantly disproved by experience — that
" wherever this Thrush builds its nest, a Chafhnch
will do the like, either on the same tree or on one
close by." Then, should Pie or other pillager
approach, the Chaffinch raises a cry of alarm, where-
upon the Thrush darts upon the intruder and drives
it away.

But although this alliance for mutual protection
has no existence in Nature, it remains true that the
parental Mistle Thrush develops upon occasion a
very high degree of courage. It will certainly attack
with fury birds much larger than itself, and I, per-
sonally, have seen it, with bristling feathers and
outstretched neck, affront a prowling cat which

MISTLE THRUSH FEEDING YOUNG

FIELDFARE

THRUSHES 129

seemed much confused bv, but by no means
inclined to resent, the onslaught.

One curious fact in the history of this bird is that
it was once extremely rare in certain localities, where
it has since become quite common. Thompson
states that in Ireland it was practically unknown
before the vear 1800, whilst now it has become a
regular resident species. As recently as 1830 it is
said to have been a most unusual occurrence to find
it nesting north of the Tweed. Now its breeding
range extends to Ross, Sutherland and Caithness.

The Song Thrush shares with the Blackbird the
distinction of being not only the most melodious,
but the largest of the British avian musicians; for
the Mistle Thrush's wild notes hardly entitle him to
a place in the highest class. In the matter of limit-
ing vocal skill to the smaller races of birds, Nature
has doubtlessly acted with a wise discretion. If,
for example, a member of the Crow family had a
Skylark's voice increased proportionately with the
Crow's size, the result might be overwhelming. In
the larger fowl, too, musical power would probably
involve danger to its owner, and it may well be that
on this account alone, the process of natural selec-
tion has restricted song to the birds which can easily
evade attention.

In its choice of a nesting site the Song Thrush
exercises a varied taste. The fork of a low tree, the
centre of a hedge or isolated thorn-bush, or the
upper branches of a tall-growing rhododendron or
laurel, are places usually selected. But the nest is
also frequently found in a broken wall or bank, or
9

I30 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

in ivy : sometimes in a barn or summer-house, and
instances have been given of its discovery in the
grass of the meadow many feet from the hedge.

The process of nest-building is laborious, the
birds bringing the materials — decayed wood, mud,
etc. — often from long distances, placing them in very
small quantities at a time in the interior, and round-
ing and shaping them by pressure of the breast,
turning the while from side to side. The precise
advantage of this well-nigh water-tight inner coat-
ing as compared with the looser construction of
other nests is not apparent. In place of protecting
the contents it merely serves to retain the moisture,
and Thrushes' nests in exposed situations are often
founci in a water-logged condition after heavy rains
when those of the Hedge-sparrow and the Blackbird
in the near neighbourhood are comparatively dry.

The range of the Song Thrush extends through-
out Europe, and it breeds in very high latitudes. In
the northern countries, however, it is a summer
visitor only, whilst in the south it appears chiefly in
winter.

Although in Great Britain the Song Thrush is
resident throughout the year, seasonal movements
take place which bring about great accessions to
its numbers in certain localities ; in others it is said
that every bird disappears between November and
February.

At the sea-cliffs, on the east coast of Yorkshire,
large parties often appear in December, sometimes
a dozen or more being counted in an area of less
than fifty yards.

The Song Thrush is one of the earliest birds

YOUNG SONG THRUSHES

THRUSHES 133

to begin to sing, following closely upon the ^listle
Thrush, but, unlike the latter, it prefers a calm clay,
when the warm sunshine hints at returning spring,
for its opening performance. In this respect, in
my experience, it is always some weeks earlier than
the Blackbird, although in some districts Black-
birds have been known to be in full song on Christ-
mas Day.

The Throstle — as this bird is familiarly named —
is well known in every English garden, and is
welcomed bv all, except, perhaps, by the more
jealous type of fruit growers.

See it as it emerges from the shelter of the dark
glistening leaves of the rhododendrons, and
advances upon the lawn. It comes forward with
swift, elastic hops, the first long, followed by one
or two shorter, then it stands motionless, with its
head slightly bent, as though listening intently.
Soon, turning abruptly to right or left, it repeats
the movement. Suddenly, with a quick pounce of
bill, it seizes the head of a great earthworm, and
with slow care, standing back upon its heels, it
extracts the curling length from its retreat in the
earth. Then, with the sun shining on its spotted
breast as it stands out clearly against the soft, green
grass, it partakes, with rapid gulps, of its morning
meal. In a moment more the olive-brown wings
are spread, and it flies to a neighbouring tree.

The food of the Song Thrush, in addition to
worms and insects, consists largely of snails. The
shells of these are broken bv repeated blows against
some hard substance, and a suitable stone may often
be found surrounded by the dehris of its feast. In

134 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

the destruction of the slugs and insects which affect
the growing plants, the Thrush runs up an account
with the gardener which may fairly be set against
that of the berries which it consumes in autumn,
and which it may properly claim to have helped
to rear.

The Blackbird, the " ouzel cock with tawny bill,"
is, with the exception of the Song Thrush, the most
familiarly know^n of the British Thrushes. It is
usually seen singly or in pairs, and although less
confiding than the Song Thrush, it constantly resorts
to the shrubberies and orchards surrounding Eng-
lish homesteads. Its food consists largely of
worms, slugs and insects, and it unquestionably
does great damage in the fruit season, especially
amidst the gooseberry bushes and the strawberry
beds, its depreciations being more considerable
than those of any of the other Thrushes. I have
watched a Blackbird return, time after time, to a
single bush, and rapidly denude it of fruit, tearing
the berries from the stem, and allowing them to fall
upon the ground, when it would descend and
partially devour them, or if disturbed, carry them
away. At this season its appetite appears to be
insatiable. In common with its congeners, it is
especially fond of the red berries of the mountain
ash. Throughout the whole day numbers of Black-
birds and Thrushes will assemble about a single
tree, fluttering heavily amidst the foliage and alight-
ing upon the sprays to which the clustering berries
are attached, the slender stems bending low beneath
their weight.

THRUSHES

3D

In the tall hedgerows which skirt our English
pastures the Blackbird is constantly seen, finding
food in the hips and hawthorn berries, and seclu-
sion for its nest in the thicker recesses. It is notice-
able for its way of starting from the hedgerows,
with a loud, quivering alarm cry, and after darting
for some little distance, suddenly turning at right
angles and regaining its shelter. It is a late bird
to go to roost. In the dusk of a summer's night
one is often startled by a dark form winging its way
suddenly through the gloom, uttering the while its
querulous notes, long after even the chattering
Sparrows in the ivy and the silently moving Robins
have retired to rest.

Great differences of opinion exist as to the relative
values of the songs of the Blackbird and the Song
Thrush. Some authorities take a somewhat low
view of the Blackbird's skill. Yarrell, for example,
states that its notes are more remarkable for power
than for compass or variety, and further, that they
have a somewhat melancholy effect, and are too
frequently repeated. Others, again, proclaim it as
the very prince of musicians, and dilate upon the
masterly ease and fluency of its melodies, far exceed-
ing, to their minds, those of the Song Thrush, and
inferior only to those of the Nightingale.

It may be noted here that in the spring the
Blackbird frequently continues its song as it flies
from tree to tree, and like the Song Thrush, may
occasionally be heard singing upon the ground.

The Redwing, being strictly a winter visitor,
does not breed in these islands, although instances

136 ENGLISH BIRIJ LIFE

have been known of isolated birds remaining during
the summer. It is an interesting thing when one
has learned to know the Redwing only as a winter
bird, and to associate it always with frozen fields
and leafless trees, to come suddenly upon it in
its Norway home, and to hear the familiar notes
again amidst the green birch-trees and the juniper,
with a cataract roaring down the decli\'ity of the
valley, and with snowy heights towering far above.

Once on a fishing trip in the Hardanger, as we
ascended a ravine, with the pack-ponies climbing
like goats from rock to rock, and with the broad
panorama of foaming river, lake and pine-wood
lying far below, we came across a colony of Field-
fares nesting in company with the less familiar
Redwings. The nests of the latter, of which we
found several, were in the lower trees, some almost
within reach of one's hand. One nest, which rested
upon a high, mossy rock, around which the birch-
trees grew thickly, contained four eggs; but, for
the most part, both with the Redwings and the
Fieldfares, the yoimg were partly fledged, the
season being mid-July.

One peculiarity of this Thrush — remarkable in
a winter visitant — is that it appears to suffer
extremely from long-continued frosts. In seasons
of exceptional severity, many hundreds are found
well-nigh starved, when the native Thrushes are
still in fairly good case. As all birds are aft'ected
by the loss of food-supplies rather than by the
actual cold, it may be that the residents find certain
resources undiscovered by the Redwing.

The Fieldfare has much in common with the Red-

THRUSHES 137

wing, and on migration the two species frequently
arrive together. It is the handsomest of the
Thrushes, and its loud, clear rattle and bright ash-
grev plumes render it at once conspicuous as it
moves, often in considerable flocks, about the
wintry fields. Differing from other members of the
Thrush family it sometimes roosts upon the ground.
Although it appears to be one of the hardiest of
birds, it is, in common with the Redwing, incapable
of enduring long-persistent frost. On the east coast
of Yorkshire in the winter of 1906-7, many hun-
dreds of Fieldfares and Redwings were seen
numbed and helpless in the fields or clustering
about the houses, in so weak a condition that they
could easily be taken by hand.

The nest is formed of fibres, coarse bents and
moss, with an inner layer of mud and a lining of
soft, drv grass. The eggs — four to R\e in number
(Saunders states that seven are sometimes laid) —
resemble the Blackbird's, but are boldly blotched
rather than streaked.

The Fieldfare breeds in colonies, often choosing
the sides of some wooded ravine for a site, and the
numerous nests seen at the tops of the comparatively
low birches, give the coppice the appearance of a
miniature rookery. Although these birds usually
build at a fair elevation, this is not always the case.
When Ryper shooting in early September, near
Nadre Vasenden in Norway, I recently came upon
a group of nests from which the young birds had
then, of course, flown. In this place, in a hollow in
the hills, the ground which surrounded a weedy lake
was extremely boggy, and here and there, islands

138 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

arose from the marsh, which were covered with a
tangled growth of willows and birch, none of which
were more than eight or ten feet high. On one of
these islands, the Fieldfares had formed a small
colony, notwithstanding the stunted character of
the trees. The deserted nests were in evidence, and
a few birds still hung about the boughs.

The wandering habits of birds of this type form
something of a stumbling-block to the philosophers
who seek to reduce avian migration to some fixed
law. The Fieldfare is a typical Norwegian bird.
Around the cultivated patches about the home-
steads ; on the narrow level stretches which lie
between the lake-margins and the feet of the steeply-
ascending hills; in the mountain ashes which grow
on the roadside; these Thrushes congregate in the
autumn, preparing to cross the North Sea. Their
reason for this movement appears plain. In a little
while the snow which even in mid-July covers the
higher crests, and lies deeply in the hill-hollows,
will have invaded the valleys, and the food-bearing
areas will be buried far beyond the reach of hungry
bills. But why, having braved the perilous flight,
and when the temperate shores of England are
gained, should the Fieldfares crave again the sterner
surroundings of their birthplace ? In the springtime
when they gather together to return, the conditions
of life in England are growing more favourable day
by day. The food which suffices for their con-
geners of precisely similar tastes is becoming more
and more abundant. Here at hand are secluded
retreats, woods and coppices, in which they may
nest in security ; and here the summer climate differs

THRUSHES 139

little, if at all, from that of Western Norway. Why,
then, may they not rest at last and sing with the
Lotos-eaters — ■

" our home
Is far beyond the wave : we will no longer roam " ?

Whatever reply may be eventually made, it can
hardly be said in relation to the Fieldfare that
its movements are controlled either by climatic
conditions or by a decreasing food supply.

TREE-CLIMBING BIRDS

Following the path through the fields which
lead to the village, one comes to a stream spanned
by a single plank. The brown water, gurgling
amidst mossy stones, is soon lost sight of as it
glides beneath drooping branches on its way to the
valley beyond. Few of the passers-by pause for a
moment even to bestow a glance upon it, and none
turn aside to trace the windings of so insignificant
a thing. For a little way, its channel is bounded by
high banks, thickly overgrown ; but lower, these
fall away, and the stream enters a tiny level glade,
where it may catch the sunlight, although the trees
growing on the slopes to right and left well-nigh
form a canopy above its head. These trees, beaten
by opposite winds, all lean inwards, bending per-
manently in the direction where the slope of the
bank gives the least support to the roots. Here, in
this small, open space, a little above the stream, an
old tree-trunk stands amidst a wilderness of lush
grass, ferns and bluebells. It has been shattered at
some time by storm or lightning, or, more prob-
ably, by the fall of some heavier timber from the
higher ground. Its base is silvery-green with moss
and lichen, and a great rift in its side shows it to be
hollow. A little to the right, a hole may be seen,
suspiciously round to the eye accustomed to take

140

THE HAUNT OF THE WOODPECKER

TREE-CLIMBING BIRDS 143

note of the ways of wood-dwellers. Screened by a
thick holly, we may rest here awhile.

For a long space there is silence, broken only by
the flow of the stream against the pebbles, or by
the humming of a heavy-bodied bee, whose frail
gauzy wings seem inadequate to raise it from the
flower-cup wherein it has fallen, rather than
alighted. At last in the distance we hear the ex-
pected note — the note of the Green Woodpecker :
" Yeu-pleu-pleu-pleu "^ — a breezy, laughing cry,
which seems startlingly loud to proceed from so
shy a bird.

He comes at last with easy, undulating flight; a
bird shaped somewhat like a larger starling. As he
alights on the ancidnt bole, clinging to the base, we
see him clearly; the head, with its scarlet and black
markings, and the green back, merging into golden
yellow. He moves easily on the vertical plane, pro-
ceeding spirally, his stiff tail-feathers pressed
against the trunk. Now he pauses to examine a
piece of bark partly detached. Beneath this, he
knows, some insect or creeping thing may be lurk-
ing, and he strikes it repeatedly. However minute
the prey may be, it has little chance of escape. The
tip of the tongue is a horny point, armed with fish-
hook-like barbs, and provided with a glutinous
secretion, to which the most microscopic of insects
adhere and are withdrawn into the mouth, whilst
the larger creatures — the beetles and spiders — are
arrested by the barbs. Although he lives chiefly
upon insects found in decayed wood, the Green
Woodpecker often drops suddenly to the ground,
and may be seen pursuing his search amidst the

144 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

tangled herbage at the foot of the tree. He seems
out of place here, standing almost upright, as
though he were still facing the bole, and he pro-
ceeds bv a series of short hops, pausing abruptly
to thrust his bill into the grass. Where ants abound
he fares sumptuously, but cockchafers and flies of
all descriptions are readily taken. When the vora-
cious nestlings are awaiting a meal, he exercises
great ingenuity and self-denial. In place of
swallowing each morsel as he discovers it, he merely
withdraws it within the sheath of the bill, and then,
with chafer, beetle, or fly, ranged in a disorderly
row, he wings his way back to the nesting-place.

The cavity in which the young are reared is
usually in an elm, poplar, or sycamore, and rarely
in a beech or an oak. It is hewn horizontally into
the tree, both parent birds labouring in turn, and
is beautifully round and symmetrical, the edges
being neatly smoothed. The Woodpeckers never, I
think, attack perfectly sound timber; but, before
the site is selected, thev have learned by tapping
and listening that the trunk is rotten within. Thus,
when the soft, decayed parts are reached, they have
little difficulty in carrying the tunnel downwards
for a foot or more, and here, on a bare bedding of
chips, the four to six translucent, white eggs are
laid. Sometimes these are found to be suffused
with varied and beautiful hues, altogether unlike
the normal colouring of eggs, and it is thought that
they have become stained either by the sap or by
some fungoid growth within the tree.

In addition to the Green Woodpecker, several

lO

GREEN WOODPECKER FEEDING YOUNG AT XESTIXG HOLE

' J

V

GREAT SPOTTED WOODPECKER AT NESTING HOLE

TREE-CLIMBING BIRDS 149

other species have occurred in Great Britain, in-
cluding the Black, the American Spotted, and the
Three-toed ; but two alone, the Great and the Lesser
Spotted, can be classed as truly English birds.
They are both less common than their green con-
gener, the smaller being the rarer bird of the
two, although Lord Lilford states that in North-
amptonshire the Lesser Spotted is the most abun-
dant of all the Woodpeckers. In their general
habits, mode of progression, and so forth, both
these birds largely follow the Green Woodpecker,
but their plumage at once sets them apart. The
upper surface of each is glossy black, barred with
white ; in the Greater, the back of the head and
the lower part of the breast is scarlet; and in the
Lesser the whole crown of the head is scarlet,
but the colour is lacking beneath. In the females
of both species the conspicuous scarlet hue is
wanting.

The jarring sounds which proceed from the
Lesser Spotted Woodpecker are so singular that
it is by no means easy to learn how they are pro-
duced. It was at one time thought that the crack-
ing, or snapping noise, was a cry, whilst other
observers believed that the bird placed its bill in a
hole and rattled it to and fro. The sound is now-
known to arise merely from the tapping of the
bird's bill upon some hollow trunk or branch. As
one writer, quoted by Yarrell, says, " The motion
is so quick as to be invisible, and the head appears
to be in two places at once;" adding, "it is sur-
prising, and to me wondrously pleasing, to observe
the many varieties of tone and pitch in their loud

I50 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

churring as the birds change their places on boughs
of different vibrations."

These three V^oodpeckers are all resident in
England, being commoner in the southern counties,
and growing rarer towards the north.

Another curious bird of the tree-climbing group
is the Wryneck. Lie is much less expert in moving
on upright surfaces than others of his kin, and is
frequentlv seen perched stiffly across a branch, but
he is nevertheless a true climber. His plumage is
grey and brown delicately blended, and pencilled
with black, and his whole appearance harmonizes
so well with his surroundings that he is easily over-
looked. He, too, is provided with a tongue tipped
with the glutinous secretion to which insects adhere,
and the rapiditv with which he darts it forth and
secures his prev resembles the similar movement
of the Chameleon. Perhaps, however, his chief
claim to notice is his singular contortion when
held in the hand. He then attenuates his neck to
an extraordinarv extent, twisting it and writhing
from side to side as though in a death-agony. In
the belief that he is in extremis, his captor fre-
quently releases him, whereupon he incontinently
flies away.

Although science admits no relationship between
the Creepers and the AA^oodpeckers, the two species,
none the less, have much in common. In their
distinctive manner of ascending the perpendicular
boles of trees, in their use of claws in climbing,
and in several other respects, the Woodpeckers,

TREE-CLLMBING BIRDS 151

Nuthatches and Creepers would appear to fall into
a natural group.

In its choice of a nesting site, however, the little
Tree-creeper — it is one of the four smallest birds
found in Great Britain — stands entirely alone.
When the ancient elm-trees begin to feel the stress
and storm of years, strips of their rugged bark are
often partly torn from the trunks. These, depend-
ing, form a shelter exactly fitted to the Creeper's
needs. Hither it brings its burden of twigs, which
it places between the inner bark and the bared wood,
and then, little by little, it rears the superstructure
of fine grass and feathers. The nest is by no means
easy to find, for sometimes the bark is so slightly
displaced that it affords the merest crevice into
which the bird may creep. If the sheltering husk
be torn away, the nest is often seen to preserve the
odd contours of the space into which it has been
fixed.

The Tree-creeper never alights upon the thinner
branches of trees, after the manner of other small
birds. Even its slight, shrill song, which is, how-
ever, rarely heard, is uttered when the bird is cling-
ing to the surface of the bark. Its mode of progres-
sion from tree to tree is always interesting, and
may easily be watched ; for although the Creeper
is one of the least obtrusive of birds, it appears to
have little dread of the observer, often approaching
close to the place where he is standing.

Wherever great trees are found, in woodland or
hedgerow, a faint "chip-cheep," as though pro-
ceedino- from some verv voung^ bird, may often be
heard from the upper branches. Soon a small brown

i=;2

ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

form flies in a descending curve, and clings to the
very base of the tree-trunk next in order. It is so
near that one may readily note the buff and black
mottling on the wing, the silvery grey throat, and
lone, delicatelv-curved bill. It remains still not for
a moment, but its restlessness is as of one bent on
serious work, rather than that of a shy wood-
dweller shrinking from a human eye. On the
instant its long, sharp claws grip the tree, it
proceeds methodically to ascend by a series of
short, jerking movements, the stiff feathers of
the tail pressed firmly against the bark to give it
purchase.

Soon, moving spirally, it is lost behind the trunk,
but it reappears higher, working its way steadily
upwards, examining, at each step, every interstice
wherein an insect may lodge. The smoothest
beech-bole is traversed as easily as the rougher elm
or oak, and in a little while the brown, mouse-like
form may be seen creeping contentedly, back-down-
wards, on the under surface of one of the loftier
limbs.

When its scrutiny of a particular tree is con-
cluded, it drops again to the base of the next, and
begins anew its persevering ascent.

The Tree-creeper is generally distributed in all
suitable localities in Great Britain, and occurs in
all countries in Continental Europe.

The Nuthatch, familiar in England, was at one
time believed to be the sole example of its genus
to be found in Europe. Now, however, certain
of the Continental forms have been shown to be

TREE CREEPER

TREE-CLIMBING BIRDS 155

distinct from ours; one species being peculiar to the
Island of Corsica.

The Nuthatches form a link between the Tree-
creepers and the Titmice, but they still retain a
clear individuality of their own. Like the Creepers,
they move with the utmost facilit}' upon the trunks
of trees, often descending head-foremost; but, in
place of using the tail, creeper-like, to steady them-
selves, thev rest the whole of the leg upon the
bark, moving from the hip-joint. This attitude is
also adopted \\hen thev are engaged in breaking
the shells of nuts or acorns, and in this respect they
follow the habit of the Great Tit. The Nuthatch,
however, is far more expert in dealing with hard
substances than anv member of the Tit family. It
is an interesting thing to watch him, bearing a nut
or beech-mast in his bill, and casting about for some
suitable crevice in which to fix it. When this is
found — and it is surprising how soon he lights
upon some crack in a post, or angle between the
trunk and branch of a tree, adapted for his purpose
— he at once wedges the husk firmly in its place,
and, in the most workmanlike manner, proceeds to
attack it. Whh his legs resting firmly on the
wood, he throws back his whole body like a living
pickaxe, and with his strong, sharply-pointed bill,
strikes resounding blow after blow against the
shell, which speedily gives way, leaving the kernel
exposed. If, in the course of his work, a piece of
the kernel flies into the air, he catches it with a
downward swoop before it reaches the ground, and
instantly resumes his task.

Apart from acorns, nuts, and various hard seeds.

156 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

his diet, like that of the Creeper, consists of
insects.

The Nuthatch is not noteworthy as a songster,
but his loud call-note, " twi-twi — twi-twi," many
times repeated, and in spring accompanied by a
shrill whistling sound, adds not a little to the varied
music of English woodlands.

In the pairing season, the male bird bows to its
mate, ruffling the feathers on his breast and ex-
panding his tail, something after the manner of a
pigeon. The hen, when sitting, has the Tit-like
habit of hissing, and even striking with her bill, at
an intruder's hand.

One characteristic of this species, which is shared
with the Creeper and the Common Wren, is that it
shows little or none of the migratory instinct.

Titmice

Of the seven varieties of Titmice which are
resident in Great Britain, five may be fairly
regarded as familiar. The Crested Tit is con-
fined to a few of the older forests in the north
of Scotland; two or three occurrences only for
England having been noted. The Bearded Tit — the
interesting little Reed Pheasant, found in certain
fenny districts in England — must also be classed as
a rare bird, and, moreover, is not a true Titmouse
at all. Of the five species remaining, all have cer-
tain characteristics in common, but each has, none
the less, some distinguishing trait which at once
sets it apart from its fellows. The largest of this

GREAT TITMOUSE AT NESTING HOLE

TREE-CLIMBING BIRDS 159

group in size, and most conspicuous in note and
plumage, is the Great Titmouse.

Tlie Great Titmouse is the true harbinger of
spring, giving notice of its coming just as the
Willow Wren announces its actual advent. In mid
February there usually comes a day which differs
from all those which have preceded it. The fields
are still bare, and the woodlands dark and lifeless,
but we are sensible of an indescribable difference
since our last visit in chill December. Then
Nature seemed dead ; now- we know that it was
sleeping, and that it is about to wake. For some
weeks the voices of the Thrushes and the Robins
mav have been heard, but these birds are winter
singers, and their notes bear no especial promise
that the great seasonal change is at hand. But
when the clear, ringing cry of the Great Tit comes
from the topmost boughs of the trees, one looks
instinctively for the springing of the earlier flowers,
and there is no longer room to doubt that we are
leaving the wintry days behind.

The Great Tit is a handsome and active bird,
bold, with a touch of aggressiveness in his bearing,
which is altogether wanting in the gentle warblers
— even in the militant Robin himself.

It may be noted that when he descends from his
swinging post on the lilac-tree, his black and white
head glistening in the sunlight, to join the feast on
the lawn, that the small birds already assembled
give him a wide berth. In this they are acting not
without reason. Although I have never witnessed
in the open an act of murder on the part of the
Great Tit, I think there is little doubt that he will

i6o ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

both kill and partly devour birds almost equal to
himself in size.

It is certain that in captivity, in association with
other species, he is a dangerous character. On
many occasions I found certain inmates of a large
aviary — Linnets, Lesser Redpolls and others-
lying dead with their skulls broken, the brain from
the cavities being neatly picked. At first I at-
tributed this to mice, but one day I saw a Great Tit
leap upon a feeding bird and brain it with repeated
blows of its pickaxe-like bill, holding, the while,
the head like a nut in the claws.

This bird soon discovered a small opening in the
wall, which enabled him to get behind the plaster.
Whenever he was at all alarmed, he took refuge in
this recess, from which it was impossible to dis-
lodge him ; showing thereby that he quite realized
the limited area of his prison, for it is clear that
no bird of his character would hide himself if he
believed that any other way of escape were open.

The Great Titmouse is by no means particular in
his choice of diet. Insects, in their various stages,
probably form his staple food, but in harder times
he will take anything at all edible which mav come
to hand. In common with others of his kin, he is
especially fond of the cocoa-nut, or he will join the
dog in overhauling any stray bone. He will, at
times, frequent the landing-boards of bee-hives in
search of dead bees, and it has been stated that he
taps the sides of the hives with his bill to arouse
the inmates, in order to seize upon them when they
emerge. He also shows a marked predilection for
the seeds of the sunflower.

TREE-CLIMBING BIRDS i6i

The Blue Titmouse has none of the vices of its
larger congener, and its beauty and sprightHness
make it a general favourite. In the woodlands,
except in the breeding season, it is usually met
with in family parties, each group containing what
may be taken to be the complement of the previous
year's nest. Like others of the family, these birds
seem to have little of the migratory instinct; but,
within the limits of their own country, they un-
questionablv travel for long distances. Unlike so
many birds which, having once taken up a location,
may be found in the vicinity day after day, the
appearance of the Blue Titmice in wood or hedge-
row, is at once suggestive of travellers on a leisurely
journey. In straggling order the line proceeds,
alighting on the topmost sprays, with their tittering
cry, feeding as they go; and in this way they will
follow the course of the country lane for many
miles, breaking away at length to traverse some
wood or row of trees to right or left, but never
remaining long in one place. In these excursions
the older birds seem to go first, calling loudly after
each short flight, when the rest invariablv follow.
In winter several of these parties join forces, and
flocks of fifty or more may be seen feeding amicably
together.

Like the Great Tit, the Bluecap is a constant
visitor to the homestead, especially in cold weather,
and his lively bearing, and varied acrobatic move-
ments on the string from which the cocoa-nut
depends, are generally admired. He also frequents
the gardens and orchards in the fruit season, and
his conduct here forms matter for considerable dif-
II

i62 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

ference of opinion. Some observers assert warmly
that the Tits— the Blue Tit especially — so far from
being harmful in the garden, are of the greatest
possible use; that every bud destroyed contains the
egg, or larva, of some deleterious insect. Others,
again, including so distinguished an authority as
the veteran Mr. Tegetmeier, dispute this conclu-
sion; and, although my sympathies are altogether
with the defendants, I fear that the verdict of
acquittal can hardly be maintained.

In captivity, if sufficient space be allowed him,
the Blue Titmouse thrives well, and soon becomes
quite tame. At one time I kept a number in an
aviary which adjoined the dining-room. By open-
ing the window the birds had access to the room,
and it was most interesting to see them exploring
all the recesses of the plaster-work of the ceiling in
search for unnoted spiders' webs.

This little bird is a most devoted and courageous
parent. If an intruding hand invades the nesting-
hole when the hen is sitting, she will at once attack
it, hissing like a snake the while. The country
boys name her the Billy-biter.

The Coal and Marsh Titmice bear a strong re-
semblance to each other, and are frequently con-
fused. Each is of an inconspicuous greenish-olive
hue, W'ith glossy black head and white cheeks, but
they may readily be distinguished by the fact that
in the Coal Tit the white extends in a broad band
to the back of the head, and the wings are also
barred with white.

In times gone by the Coal Tit formed a fruitful

BLUE TITMOUSE

TREE-CLLMBIXG BIRDS 165

theme of controversy amongst ornithologists. In
their great work, Birds of Europe, Messrs. Sharpe
and Dresser claim that the British Coal Tit is dis-
tinct from the Continental and more generally
distributed form. They therefore name the British
bird, Parus hritanuiciis, in contradistinction to the
more widely-spread Parus atcr. A difference of
plumage certainly exists, the point at issue being
whether this is sufficient to constitute a separate
species. The editor of " Yarrell " declines to recog-
nize P. britanniciis, on the ground that a form
intermediate between the two has been found in
certain Scottish forests.

The Coal Tit is more reticent in its habits than
either of the two species already dealt with.
Although it may approach the homestead at times,
it is none the less essentially a woodland bird. One
often meets it in the solitudes, the quick " twee-twee-
twee " falling sharply on the ear, as the small grey
bird, with its black and white head alone con-
spicuous, flits into yiew. For a moment, after the
manner of its kind, it depends back-downwards
from a branch oyerhanging the path,' then it drops
quietly to the ground, following its inyestigations
amidst the fallen leaves, or about the roots on the
bankside. Very often little parties of Coal Tits
may be seen mingling with the Blue Tits on the
tree-tops, and sometimes accompanied bv Golden-
crested Wrens and Tree-creepers.

The sudden incursion of these bright little armies,
hanging and tittering from every spray, and filling
the air w'ith their delicate note-calls, is one of the
many interesting episodes which the bird-lover

i66 ENGLISH BiilD LIFE

comes to look for in his Avanderings through the
winter woods.

The Marsh Titmouse is one of the species which
appears to be inaptly named. It certainly shows
no marked predilection for marshy country ; indeed,
its haunts are practically the same as those of the
Coal Tit. It is said to frecjuent the willows and
alders on the margin of rivers, but this applies
equally to the Coal Tit, and more especially to the
Long-tailed. In its nesting habits its individuality
is more marked, inasmuch as it occasionally hol-
lows out its nesting site in a decayed tree, or builds
in a cavity dug by a field- vole in a bank; never,
like the preceding species, approaching farm- or
other out-buildings in order to find a convenient
cranny in some old wall.

It is not always possible to distinguish this
species at a distance, although the absence of the
white patch at the nape sets it at once apart when
near at hand; but, in my experience, it is rarely
seen congregating with the Blue Titmice in the
tops of the taller trees, and is altogether a less
familiar bird than its near congener. In its choice
of food, and in general habits, however, it differs
little from the Coal Tit.

The Long-tailed Tit is one of the most interest-
ing members of an interesting group. With the
exception of the Golden-crested Wren, it is the
smallest British bird, although the abnormally
long tail gives the impression of much greater
length. It is gentle and unobtrusive in its ways,

TREE-CLOIBING BIRDS 169

asking nothing of the favour of man, and never
approaching the homestead with the confidence of
the Great and Blue Titmice; yet, in its own haunts,
it is by no means a shy or distrustful bird. It has,
I think, a greater affection for the low trees that
fringe the running stream than any of its family.
Often, when fishing, one hears far away the faint
call-notes, like the tinkling of fairy bells. Wading
deeply amongst the great mossy stones, the angler's
appearance is inconspicuous, and, as he rests close
to the line of the willows, the tiny bells draw
nearer. Then the little party of Long-tailed Tits
are seen flitting forward, alighting, one by one, with
a soft "zee-zee-zee," upon the outermost sprays
of the willows, almost within reach of the hand.
Here they hang beneath the boughs, and perform
many graceful evolutions, the long, white-lined
tail and delicate, roseate hues, contrasting clearly
with the fresh green leaves. In a moment more the
leader flies on, followed by his silvery-voiced clan,
rising and falling in single file, each resembling a
miniature arrow bearing an undulv heavy head,
rather than a living bird.

In its nest building, too, the Long-tailed Tit is
worthy of special note. The task of framing a
domed nest is one involving no small amount of
skilled labour. The completed design must be
clearly in the mind of the small artificer before the
first twig is laid, for all the later stages depend
on the first few steps. The Long-tailed Tit's nest,
combining, as it does, all the qualities of warmth,
security and beauty, is a model of pre-arrangement.
For twelve or fourteen days, both parents toil

170 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

incessantly, the female building, and the male
bringing the materials, often from a considerable
distance. Some idea of the extent of the task may
be inferred from the fact that one interior alone
contained 2379 separate feathers.

A suitable fork in a thick bush, or tree, where,
curiously enough, some sprays of honeysuckle are
usually found growing, and almost invariably near
running water, is selected for the nesting site. Here
the filaments of moss are laid, and the nest is woven
in the ordinarv cup-shape until the point where the
entrance-hole is to be, is reached. Then the work
is proceeded with at the back of the nest, and a thin
framework is erected in the shape of a roof, which
is graduallv brought down to join the front, leaving
the hole clear. At this stage the structure is most
flimsy, and a heavy thunder-storm will beat it
down, destroying in a few moments the labour of
many days. When fully completed, however, and
the great mass of lining feathers added, it becomes
practically weather-proof.

Both birds rest in the mossy home at night, and
the tips of their long tails may be seen projecting
from the hole in the nest-side.

The family tie between these Titmice seems to be
unusually strong. All through the autumn and
Vvinter the young cluster together upon a single
bough at roosting time, when they appear a mere
tangled mass of feathers.

CURIOUS NEST OF LONG-TAILED TIT

FINXHES

In the interior of the larger woods, bird Hfe is
never so plentifid as upon the outskirts. The Finches
especially, although many of them cling to the belts
and coppices, and are rarely to be found in barren
and exposed tracts of country, none the less shun
the deeper recesses where the closely-growing boles
and interlacing branches restrict their flight.

The Hawfinch is, perhaps, one of the most truly
wood-loving of any of the group. Although he may
be seen on isolated bushes in lawns and gardens,
and in autumn may be found making destructive
raids upon the fruit, he never strays far from the
shelter of shrubbery and thicket, and on the
slightest suspicion of danger, at once hides himself
behind a screen of the densest foliage.

Few birds, indeed, are so difficult to approach as
the Hawfinch. Kven when one's attention is called
to his presence by the sharp " twit-twit " proceeding
from the bare branch of one of the tallest trees he
appears to become at once aware that a possibly
hostile eye is upon him, and he instantly departs,
with swift, undulating flight, in search of some
deeper seclusion.

Sometimes, however, when engaged amidst the
pea-sticks or in the cherry trees, he forgets some-
thing of his habitual caution. See him now as he
stands grasping the bough with his powerful claws,

173

174 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

and with massive, leaden-blue bill tearing down the
fruit, his chestnut hues relieved by the black and
white on his wings; a sturdy form compacted for
strength rather than grace, yet truly a handsome
bird. See him there for a moment, and note him
well, for on the crackling of a twig he is gone, and
one may travel far and wait long before so close
an inspection be granted again.

Curiously, for a Finch, the nest of the Hawfinch
is crudely and carelessly made. It is formed ol
twigs intermixed with lichen, and is commonly
found on the branches of hawthorns, often at a con-
siderable elevation. The eggs — four to five in
number — are of a bluish-green, spotted and streaked
with dark olive and brown.

At one time the Hawfinch was regarded as an
occasional visitor merelv to England, and it would
certainly appear from the references of the older
writers, that it was once far less common than it
is to-dav. Now it is known to be a resident breed-
ing species in most of the southern counties, and
its range has extended to the north, even to North-
imiberland.

Another true forest lover is the Crossbill. In times
gone bv, great mystery surrounded this curious
bird. In many ancient documents his appearance
is recorded, and like the Hawfinch, he would seem
to have been regarded merely as an erratic visitor.
Thus we read, " the yeere 1593 was a greate and
exceeding yeere of apples : and there were greate
plenty of Strang birds, that shewed themselves at
the time the apples were full rype, who fedde upon

* FINCHES 175

the kernells onely of those apples, and havinge a bill
with one beak wrythinge over the other which
would presently bore a greate hole in the apple, and
make way to the kernells : they were of the bignesse
of a Bullfinch, the henne right like the henne of
a Bullfinch in coulour : the cocke a very glorious
bird, in a manner al redde or yellowe on the brest,
backe and head. The oldest man living never
heard or reade of any such like bird : and the thinge
most to bee noted was, that it seemed they came
out of some countrv not inhabited : for that they
at the first would abide shooting at them, either with
pellet, bow or other engine, and not remove till
they were stricken downe : moreover, they would
abide the throweing at them, in so much as diverse
were striken down and killed with often throweing
at them with apples. They came when the apples
were rype, and went away when the apples were
cleane fallen. They were very good meate." ^

Now we know that the Crossbill is a resident,
occurring irregularlv in most of the English coun-
ties, and nesting annuallv in certain wooded dis-
tricts of Scotland, especially in Sutherland and
Ross. Here, in these lands of "brown heath and
shaggy wood," where the closely growing firs cover
the mountain sides from their base by the loch's
edge midway to their rocky summits, the Crossbill
may still be seen by those patient enough to trace
him to his haunts.

In these primeval forests travelling is by no
means easy. Sometimes the firs spring from the
sides of declivities well-nigh sheer, and fragments
^ Quoted from Yarrell.

176 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

of rock and fallen trunks, green with the softest
moss, bar the footsteps at every turn. At length,
as we creep from the darker recesses, we find our-
selves in the open. We have reached a heathery
ledge bared to the sun and sky, the clifT here falling
so abruptly and so far, that the tops of the highest
fir-trees growing below barely reach the level of our
feet. A vast and varied prospect is spread before
us. Beneath, the great loch extends, dotted with
innumerable isles, about the rocky harbours of
which the Wild Ducks and Mergansers pilot their
tinv fleets. On the farther shore the white line of
the road can be made out as it rises and falls amidst
the dark green of the heather. To the right, in
the valley, we can just catch the winding gleam of
the river above the point where it enters the loch,
and around and above all, tower the innumerable
hills, mere rocky screes and heathery slopes in the
nearer distance, but as thev draw to the horizon,
taking on fainter hues of azure, and rose and gold,
and seeming to be fashioned in mist.

But as we gaze we become aware of certain bird-
forms moving in the fir-trees beneath us. The little
party come forward like Titmice, the leaders utter-
ing a sharp " zip-zip-zip " as they alight. They seem
to be utterly devoid of fear, and standing a few feet
above them, we can mark the varied colour of their
plumage and the curious twisted formation of the
bill. Some are of a greenish hue mottled with
brown, and others, the adult males, of a beautiful
red tinged with faint orange and green, with darker
wings.

Here they remain, grasping the boughs parrot-

FINCHES 177

wise in their powerful feet, hanging back-down-
wards, and extending the body in any direction to
reach with the bill some desired spray; cutting the
cones from their setting and holding them upon the
branch, where they may be torn open and the seeds
extracted; throwing themselves, indeed, into every
variety of attitude as they feed happily together,
their variegated colours clearly contrasting with the
dark green tones of the fir plumes.

In a little while they flit forward over the tree
tops, and the " zip-zip-zip " falls more faintly on the
ear. Now it ceases altogether as the little party of
nomads travel on, moving from forest to forest and,
save in the brief nesting season, knowing no settled
home.

The Crossbill breeds early, usually in February
or March. The nest is placed on the horizontal
branch of a fir or other tree close to the stem, and
is formed of moss, dry grass and lichen set on a
base of twigs. The eggs are four in number, and
are of a bluish-white, sparsely spotted with
brownish-red.

In addition to the common Crossbill, three other
species, the Parrot, Two-barred and White-winged,
are recognized as British. These are, however, of
the rarest occurrence.

Of the Finches w'hich cling to the woodlands at
all seasons of the year, and which never join the
w^andering flocks which in winter seek their food
in bare fields and treeless places, the Bullfinch is
one of the more consistent. It is a rare thing to
meet him at any considerable distance from his
12

178 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

loved coppice. Even when tall hedges intersect a
country otherwise devoid of wood, he is not at
home. Although he may be seen feeding upon the
seeds of the dock and other plants which grow on
the edges of moors and commons, his true haunt
is never far away from the leafv recesses into which
he may retire at the first appearance of danger.

The cock Bullfinch, with his jet-black head, pink
breast and ash-grey back, is so handsome a bird
that he at once arrests attention. It is always a
delightful thing when wandering in some winding
lane in a land of orchards and flowering hawthorns
to hear his faint call-note, and to catch a glimpse of
the broad bar of white above the black tail, as,
with his sober coloured mate, he flits along the
hedgeside. He is a warv bird, however, showing
little of the confidence in man which so many of his
kin display, and if one approaches without circum-
spection, he at once disappears in the seclusion of
the nearest wood.> Draw near to him carefully,
how'ever, taking advantage of a sudden bend in the
way, and one mav see him in his habit as he lives.
On the deep hanging bank, overgrown with tangled
grass and trailing branches of hawthorn and honey-
suckle, the dock plants grow- high in the autumn,
and stand with their pyramids of brown seed clear
against the dull green of the surrounding herbage.
As one rests in a hidden nook, the Bullfinch sud-
denly drops from the hedge and clings to the stem
which bends beneath his weight. Here, on his
swinging perch, he picks up the seed with great
rapidity, and one has time to note the glowing hues
of his plumage and also to realize the havoc even

FINCHES i8i

small numbers of these birds can bring about in
the budding gooseberry-bushes and cherry-trees.
For the most ardent bird lover must admit that the
Bullfinch, beautiful as he may be, is a terribly
destructive bird, and when the gardener finds the
fruit-bearing trees entirely denuded, he can hardly
be expected to accept the kindly theory that every
incipient blossom contained the eggs or larvae of
some deleterious insect. At the same time, it must
be remembered that the Bullfinch performs an
immense service in the country by destroying the
seeds of numberless noxious plants, which \\ould
otherwise be spread broadcast over the cultivated
grounds, and in this way his adverse balance is
somewhat redressed.

The fondness of the Bullfinch for the seeds of
the dock renders him an easy prey to the bird-
catcher. A bunch of these plants is bound about
a sharpened stake, which may readily be driven
into the ground wherever the birds are heard or
seen. A call-bird in a small cage is placed beneath
the drooping sprays, and to each seed-plume a limed
rush is affixed. In a few moments the notes of the
decoy are responded to from the wood, and the wild
bird flies nearer and nearer, and at length descends
boldly on the fatal sprays. With the exception of
the Robin, which attacks the caged decoy with
unbridled fury, believing it to be an invader, few
birds are led to their undoing more easily than the
Bullfinch.

The nest of this species is small in relation to the
size of the bird, and is somewhat unusual in con-
struction. A platform of twigs most carefully in-

i82 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

terlaced is first set up, and upon this a tiny cup
of root fibres is woven, the fibres being of consider-
able length and cunningly wound round and round.
The eggs, four to six in number, are streaked and
spotted with reddish-brown upon a bluish-w-hite
ground. The nest is placed near the extremity of
some leafy branch, often of an evergreen, the yew
and box being favourite trees. Indeed, the sitting
hen has so strong a preference for dense foliage,
that if a single holly spray be found growing in a
hawthorn hedge, she will constantly select this for
the hiding of her nest.

In northern and eastern Europe, a larger and more
brilliantly coloured race of Bullfinches exists, and
as these have been known to occur in England, they
are included by Lord Lilford in the British list
under the title of the Northern Bullfinch.

Although in winter they wander further afield
than any of the preceding species, the Greenfinch
and the Chaffinch mav both be properly accounted
birds of the woodlands. The Greenfinch is not
commonly regarded as a distinguished songster,
his spring notes consisting mainly of a pleasant but
somewhat monotonous " teem-teem-teem," uttered
from the highest branches of some leafy tree.
Wordsworth, however, in greeting again the birds
and flowers of a returning summer, addresses him
in terms of the warmest eulogy.

" One I have marked, the happiest guest
In all this covert of the blest ;
Hail to thee, far above the rest
In joy of voice and pinion.

GREENFINCHES

^"w __„

<^

YOUNG GREENFINCHES

FINCHES 185

Thou, linnet : in thy green array
Presiding" spirit here to-day,
Dost lead the revels of the May,
And this is thy dominion.

Upon yon tuft of hazel trees
That twinkle to the gusty breeze
Behold him perched in ecstasies.

Yet seeming still to hover :
There : where the flutter of his wings
Upon his back and body flings
Shadows and sunny glimmerings

That cover him all over."

Perhaps it is in his recognition of the joy of
spring rather than in his song that the Greenfinch
is remarkable. Usually a somewhat stolid bird, the
cock now becomes a changed character, and forget-
ting his ordinary business-like flight, he actually
gambols in the air, soaring in wide semicircles,
singing the while, and displaying to the uttermost
his golden and green plumes, now at their best
and brightest.

The Greenfinch is a late builder, and the nest,
formed mainly of roots, is placed in bushes and
high hedges : rarely in trees. In winter, when the
large flocks are formed, the sexes, as in the case of
the Chaflinch, are said to separate, but this can only
apply to certain localities, and is by no means the
general rule.

Although the Greenfinch is one of the com-
monest woodland birds the Chaflinch is still more
familiar. Not by his abundance alone, but by his
perfect friendliness and his charm of plumage and
of song, he strikes the foreign observer at once as

i86 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

being the most notable bird of English ^voods and
park lands. " Nothing I had read or could find in
the treatises on British ornithology," writes
Burroughs, in his Impressions of some English
Birds, " had given me any inkling of which was the
most abundant and vociferous English song-bird.
Throughout the month of May, and probably
during all the spring months, the Chaffinch makes
two-thirds of the music that ordinarily greets the
ear as one walks or drives about the country. In
both England and Scotland in my walks up to the
time of my departure, the last of July, I seemed to
see three Chaffinches to one of any other species of
bird. The male is the prettiest of British song-
birds, with its soft, blue-grey back, barred wings
and pink breast and sides. The Scotch call him
the ' Shilfa.' At Alloway there was a Shilfa for
everv tree, and its hurried and incessant notes met
and intersected each other from all directions every
moment of the dav like wavelets on a summer pool.
So many birds and each one so persistent and
vociferous accounts for their part in the choir. The
song is as loud as that of our orchard starling, and
even more animated. It begins with a rapid wren-
like trill, which quickly becomes a sharp jingle,
then slides into a warble, and ends with an abrupt
flourish. I have never heard a song which began
so liltingly and ended with such c[uick, abrupt
emphasis. The last note often sounds like ' whittier '
uttered with great sharpness; . . . the song, on the
whole, is a pleasing one, and very characteristic,
so rapid, incessant and loud."

Although the British observer may not fall in

CHAFFINCH AND YOUNG

FINCHES 189

with every opinion here expressed^ especially that
wherein the Chaffinch is credited with two-thirds of
the music of May, he will, nevertheless, agree that
the description is, in the main, a true one. It is
certain that in English parks and pleasure grounds
this species is by far the most numerous of any of
the British finches. In the woodlands surrounding
Bolton Abbey, the once " stately Priory on the Field
of Wharfe," Chaffinches abound to an amazing
extent. At every turn they may be seen, sauntering
on the white drives and filling the air wdth their
sweet leisurely notes; barely moving aside to evade
the passing vehicle, or with a movement of white-
lined wings springing to mossy wall or overhanging
bough, with a sharp "pink-pink" of protest at
their brief disturbance.

So tame are they that they gather about the rustic
tables where the visitors partake of their al fres-&o-
meals, and frequently alight upon the tables them-
selves.

The nest of the Chaffinch is well known as one of
the models of avian craftsmanship. It is formed
mainly of wool, and built in simple cup-shape, but
on the outer surface green mosses and different
lichens are woven in with such skill and neatness,
that the finished form has the appearance of being
carved from some hard substance rather than of a
nest built up, little by little, from odd scraps of
loose and parti-coloured materials.

The question of the migration of the Chaffinch is
a somewhat vexed one. ]\Iany years ago, Linnaeus
stated that in Sweden the hens left the country in
winter while the cocks did not : hence his applica-

igo ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

tion of the title coelehs to the species, in reference to
the bachelorhood of the males left behind. Yarrell
tells us that the evidence of later Swedish author-
ities does not altogether confirm this observation,
but the fact remains that, occasionally, and in cer-
tain localities, flocks of Chaffinches appear in
England in winter which consist almost entirely
of hens.

/• I

•^*i^;

NESTING SITE OF THE RAVEN

{Photo by J. Atkinsofi)

CROWS

Of the nine British members of this remarkable
group, two, at least, the Chough and the Raven,
cannot now be described as tree-haunting birds.
True, the Raven occasionally builds in the fork of
some tall tree, the great mass of sticks of which the
nest is composed growing annuallv larger, as in
each recurring January the parents repair the home
for the reception of the season's eggs; but, for the
most part, the birds resort in the breeding time to
the sea-cliffs or to the precipitous side of some rocky
mountain. Much has been written of the Raven.
In poetry and tradition he appears always as a bird
of ill-omen, his croak presaging death and general
disaster. Many times have his habits been
described ; his practice of nesting when the moun-
tain slopes are still covered with snow; his strange
aerial gambols and the ferocity with which he W'ill
attack the sheep " cast " on the hillside. For, like
others of his kin, he is a born misdemeanant. With
great natural abilities, he could easily gain an
honest livelihood, but even in captivity with ample
stores provided, he prefers a path of crime. Dickens
describes a tame Raven, the famous original of the
weird bird in Barnahy Rudge.

" He had, from the first, as Sir Hugh Evans said
of Anne Pag^e, ' good gifts,' which he improved
i.S 193

194 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

with study and attention in a most exemplary
manner. He slept in a stable — generally on horse-
back—and so terrified a Newfoundland dog by his
preternatural sagacity, that he has been known, by
mere superiority of genius, to walk off with the
dog's dinner unmolested from before his face."

Like most malefactors, however, he came to a
bad end, notwithstanding his intelligence. His
knowledge of chemistry did not extend to the pro-
perties of white lead, and he died after extracting a
pound or so from a spot where the workmen had
carefully hidden it.

The Chough, distinguished by his red feet and
red curved bill, is a true rock-dweller, and never
appears to alight upon trees at all, but the remain-
ing seven, including the rare Nutcracker, are all, in
a greater or less degree, birds of the woodlands.

The first of these, the Carrion Crow, is at once
set apart from the more commonly known Rook
by the fact that the base of the bill is covered
with fine hair-like feathers, and lacks altogether
the curious wattled appearance which marks the
adult Rook.

These Carrion Crows offer a problem to those
engaged in the classification of birds which is by
no means easy of solution. The Hooded or Grey
Crow at first sight appears obviously to be of a
distinct species. In the first place, its plumage is
parti-coloured — grey and black — and differs essen-
tially from the total blackness of the true Black or
Carrion Crow. Again, the Grey Crow visits Eng-
land in winter onlv, Avhereas the Black, when not

CROWS 195

resident, is a summer immigrant, and is known as
a regular breeding species in this country. Further-
more, the habits of the two birds are in many ways
dissimilar, the Black Crow being distinctly a tree-
loving bird, whilst the Grey is rather a frequenter
of moors and waste places, especially of low hills
by the sea, and even of the shore itself.

Yet to set against this, we have the curious fact
that the two birds mate freely together, and that in
the same nest, young of both the black and grey
forms are found.

These hybrids, if they may be so called, are said
to be fertile, a circumstance which would go far to
prove that the original parents were not of distinct
species, but the evidence in regard to this is by no
means clear.

On these grounds, however, and by reason of
their structural identity, the editor of Yarrell con-
cludes that no specific distinction can be main-
tained. At the same time, a dividing line between
these two types of Crows appears to be so firmly
drawn by Nature, that, strict scientific accuracy
apart, one cannot help sympathizing with Lilford,
Saunders and other authorities, who still prefer to
treat the Black and Grey Crows under separate
headings.

The Black Crow has none of the social qualities
which distinguish the more familiar Rook. He
and his sombre mate confer alone together, seek-
ing no fellowship with man, and nesting alone
in some remote tree. Recognizing the fact that
they are outlaws in an altogether hostile land,
they pursue their nefarious course with the

196 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

utmost vigilance. Together they may be seen,
with slow, heavy flight, quartering the ground care-
fully. They have no hawk- or owl-like skill in
capturing strong living prey, but an unfailing
instinct seems to lead them to the place where any
weak or helpless thing chances to be lying. When
the coast is clear, a turn may be taken on the out-
skirts of the farm buildings or in the stackvard,
where a stray chicken or duckling may be picked
up. Away in the mowing-grass a tiny leveret may
be crouching, or amidst the brambles and nettles
of the hedgeside the eggs of a Partridge be found.
But the Black Crow is no epicure. The decaying
remains of a rabbit killed by a weasel afford him
quite a satisfactory meal, and failing this, any
neglected heap of debris will be investigated, in-
cluding the refuse of fish cast aside by the fisher-
men on the shores.

As a scavenger the Black Crow has distinct
uses, but these are rendered nugatory bv his
strongly marked predilections for robbery and
murder. So it is that his path is hedged about with
poison, gun and gin, the keeper rarely failing to
send a charge of shot through any nest he may
chance upon, and thus, persecuted at all seasons,
especially in the breeding time, the Crow, like the
brown rat, only averts extinction by the develop-
ment of the most extraordinary qualities of watch-
fulness and resource.

Caw, caw, caw. How the "great brotherhood of
lofty elms " resounds with the incessant, impatient
cry of the Rooks ! From the first streak of dawn

CROWS 197

the toil of the black community begins, and even
when night falls, dim shadows may still be seen in
the upper gloom, returning from a distance, or
moving restlessly about the darkened tree-tops.

All through the early days of winter the rookery
is deserted, the birds amalgamating in vast con-
gregations, and finding harbourage in more distant
woods, and the tenantless nests are beaten and
well-nigh dismantled by the blasts. Week after week
goes by, and no single Rook comes even to look at
the scene of his former activities. Early in January,
however, at about 8 a.m., a small party numbering
from ten to twelve, arrive. They remain for a
little while perched upon the topmost boughs ; then
they depart, and are seen no more for the day.
On the following morning they appear at exactly
the same time, again silently to survey their
deserted homes, and to depart as before.

So they come and go through the early part of
February, their nimibers increasing and the periods
of their stay becoming longer. As February merges
into March, many remain throughout the whole
day. At night, their dark forms can be made out
roosting near the nests, and in a little while the
whole colony are in possession.

At day-dawn they are at work, some dropping
to the ground to collect fresh sticks, others faring
further atield, and industriously, and by repeated
effort, biting off the slenderer boughs from the more
distant trees, to be carried in ungainly haste to the
nesting sites.

So the work of building and repairing proceeds
amidst constant clamour and with many inter-

198 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

hides of grotesque courtship. In the small groups
which dot the green of the meadow, the suitors
appear, expanding their tails fan-wise, and with
contorted forms and reiterated caws, seeking the
attention of the hens, w^hich, meanwhile, move
quietly in the grass apparently obliyious of their
presence. Sometimes the cock will ascend to
some lofty bough and suddenly distend his tail-
feathers with a rattling sound, endeayouring at the
same time to modulate his hoarse yoice after the
manner of a singing bird. But soon the realities
of domesticity work their sobering effect, the
clamour dies down, and amidst the still leafless
limbs the dark tails of the hens can be seen pro-
jecting beyond the nest-sides, as they settle them-
selyes to the patient business of incubation.

The gregarious habits of Rooks and their man-
ner of forming easily observed colonies when nest-
ing, have given rise to manifold writings, and to
the expression of varied opinions. It has been
stated that a distinct system of government, on very
human lines, may be traced in these communities;
that matters affecting the commonwealth are dis-
cussed in solemn conclave; that thieves are evicted,
and that other malefactors are duly tried by tree-top
courts-martial, and, if need be, promptly executed,
the terms rook-parliament, rook-tribunal being
freely used. That Rooks, as though moved by a
common impulse, sometimes destroy the nests of
their fellows and make fierce onslaughts upon the
owners, is recorded by many observers. Mr. Tick-
ner Edwardes in Ways of Nature, for example,
writes: "Just as there is always a black sheep in

CROWS 199

every fold, there seems to be in every rookery one
of the swart brotherhood whose blackness goes all
the way through. Sometimes in the midst of the
busy cawing and bustle of the day, a sudden hub-
bub will arise. Round one of the nests a fierce
conflict is waging. Half-a-dozen birds have
launched themselves upon it, rending it to frag-
ments and casting it like chaff to the ground, while
others are chasing the luckless proprietors, follow-
ing them through the blue air w4th a sound not
wholly unlike that of a pack of hounds in full cry.
It is difficult to make sure of the motive for this
determined eviction, but in all likelihood a pilferer
from other nests has been caught at his work, and
destruction of his own home and banishment from
the colony is the ordained penalty of the oflence."
Yarrell, too, states that it has been repeatedly
noticed that when a pair of Rooks attempt to build
on a tree previously unoccupied, and at a distance
from the main body, the rest often destroy the nest.
Personally, although from my window I have
watched the movements of Rooks for many years,
I have never been fortunate enough to witness the
first of these occurrences, nor, indeed, the latter,
with sufficient clearness to enable me to decide with
certainty whether the nest-destruction was an act of
retributive justice on the part of the community, or
a mere whim of the owners themselves. On one
occasion two pairs of Rooks built in a detached plan-
tation some distance from the rookery, and each
brought off a brood in safety. In the succeeding
spring four birds returned and laboriously rebuilt
the nests, working for several days. One morning

200 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

I saw what I took to be the original builders — in
any case the numbers were not increased — toiling
feverishly, and in an incredibly short time not a
stick remained in the trees. Then the four birds
departed, never to return.

In regard to the so-called parliaments, extra-
ordinary gatherings of Rooks occur at times,
usually shortly before roosting, when many hun-
dreds may be seen assembled, in more or less
orderly formation, in the meadow- ; all comparatively
silent, and their demeanour on these occasions cer-
tainly gives colour to the suggestion that they are
engaged in some serious discussion. It has been
said that these gatherings, during which certain
of the birds ascend to very great heights and
suddenly drop headlong, twisting as they fall, a
performance many times repeated, are usually fol-
lowed by a heavy storm of w-ind or rain.

One interesting feature in the history of the Rook
is his affection for the neighbourhood of man. A
rookery far remote from any human dwelling is
hard to find. Although his young are shot down,
season by season, the Rook still returns to the
ancestral trees about the homestead, and once
established, few measures short of a wholesale fell-
ing of the timber suffice to drive him away.

Many legends — some of which appear well cor-
roborated^relate to the Rook's identification with
the fortunes of the house to which he attaches him-
self. From time immemorial a rookery existed at
Swinsty Hall in the valley of the Washburn. When
the family in whose occupation the Hall had been
for many generations, found a new home at the

CROWS 201

opposite side of the valley, a mile or more away,
the Rooks also transferred their abode, and settled
again in a belt of trees within a hundred yards of
the old proprietor's gates.

An incident of a somewhat similar character is
recorded by Yarrell. In 1824 the late Lord Home
wished to destroy a rookery near Coldstream, and
after three years, effected his purpose. During the
remainder of his life not a single Rook's nest was
built on the property, but in 1842, the first spring
after his death, the birds returned to the neighbour-
hood of their former haunts.

These incidents might be multiplied indefinitely,
but vv hether they are due to some occult knowledge
of human affairs, or merely to coincidence, are
questions which will probably be decided by the
personal bias of those concerned.

That Rooks are not to be deterred from building
by the populous character of their surroundings is
shown by the fact that nests are still to be found
in London, within the four mile radius, and that, in
the centres of other large cities — Edinburgh, Man-
chester and Newcastle-on-Tyne, for example — well-
tenanted rookeries existed in quite recent times, even
if they have now altogether disappeared.

Although rookeries are usually associated with
fairly tall trees, other situations are sometimes
chosen, nests having been found in holly-bushes,
pollard willows and chimney stacks, and, in some
rare instances, even upon the ground.

In the matter of diet the Rook's taste is varied.
That he destroys vast quantities of slugs, worms and
various insects is unquestionable, but, none the less,

202 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

a careful inquiry instituted at the instance of the
Highland and Agricultural Society, appears to
prove him to be a granivorous rather than an
insectivorous bird. Sir John Gilmour, Bart., of
Montrave, sets forth the monthly dietary of 355
Rooks shot from March 1894 to February 1895 in-
clusive. This he shows to consist of at least 56
per cent, of grain. Although in the fields it may
be noted that the flocks of Rooks follow the plough-
n.ian rather than the sower, and a saving must
accrue to the farmer by the destruction of wire-
worms, etc., it is still clear that wherever Rooks
are allowed to increase unduly, they must inflict
a severe tax upon the land.

The bare wattled appearance at the base of the
Rook's bill has given rise to considerable con-
troversy. In the young birds the base is feathered
as in the Crows, and it is only at the second moult
that the grey, parchment-like excrescence appears.
It has been stated that the feathers are worn awav
by the bird's habit of digging in the earth, but this
explanation fails, inasmuch as Rooks in captivitv,
where the possibility of digging has been denied,
have still developed the peculiarity. The more
reasonable theory is that in the long processes of
evolution, Nature, finding the feathers in the way,
has gradually brought about the change, just as
the head and neck of the vulture is denuded in order
that they may be plunged with less detriment into
the carcasses of the prey.

The Rooks, and, indeed, all the Crow family, rise
awkwardly from the ground and appear to have
difficulty at first in dealing with their legs. One

CROWS 203

peculiarity in the Rook's wing — not, I think, to be
noted in the same degree in any other bird — is that
in flight it appears to curve upwards towards the tip.

Although

"a great frequenter of the church,
Where, bishop-like, he finds a perch
And dormitory too,"

the Jackdaw is still a tree-haunting bird, and may
constantly be met with in the English woodlands.
In the ancient oaks and elms w-hich dot the park-
lands, he finds many rifts which serve him for a
nesting place, and throughout the long summer
day, he may be seen searching busily in the grass
below for materials or for food, soon rising again
to the upper branches, w^here his glossy black
plumage may be caught gleaming amidst the green
of the leaves. A bold predatory bird, his manners
display an amount of cool impudence which dis-
arms criticism, provided, indeed, that the critic be
not the victim of his nefarious ways. His fellow-
creatures, feathered and furred, are treated as
though they existed for his sole use and benefit.
When the Rooks have toilfuUy amassed a great
heap of sticks to form their dwelling at the summit
of the elm, the Jackdaw appears upon the scene.
He calmly sets to work to prepare himself a home
in the basement, as it were, carelessly tearing out
the materials midway in the structure, and rearing
his brood in his neighbour's tenement without the
slightest respect for the rights of property, the
owners, bewildered, perhaps, by his audacity, offer-
ing, so far as I have been able to see, no protest

204 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

whatever. Indeed, as the Jackdaw minoles with
the Rooks, in both field and rookery, upon terms
of the greatest amity, it may be that the latter
tolerate his escapades in consideration of his gay
companionship.

Again, a shaggy pony may be browsing peace-
fully on the green beneath the oak-trees in the park.
To him descends the Jackdaw, alighting upon his
back, and with many strenuous tugs, takes a beakful
of hair from the animal's coat. When this has been
borne to the tree as a lining for the nest, Jack returns
for more. In vain the pony objects, shrugs him-
self impatientlv, departs to a more distant part of
the pasture. He is steadfastly followed and denuded,
until he has parted with sufficient of his covering
to supply his persecutor's need.

Yet, notwithstanding these exhibitions of evilly
directed intelligence, the Jackdaw, in some ways,
shows a curious lack of the most ordinary common-
sense. Most hole-nesting birds are content to lay
their eggs in the drv dust of the cavity, or to place
within it nothing beyond a soft lining. The Jack-
daw piles in the hole, great masses of altogether
unnecessary sticks, and in introducing these his
incapacity is most marked. Often he will balance
himself for a quarter of an hour in the ungainly
efforts to get a three-foot stick into a twelve-inch
hole, holding the stick carefully in the middle the
while, and finally permitting it to drop to the
ground on finding the problem insoluble. Or he
will labour for many days, dropping sticks through
the loophole in the masonry of some old castle, until
they form a vast litter in the deejDS below, and then

CROWS 207

abandon the enterprise on finding that the work
appears interminable.

In some respects the Jackdaw's stick-collecting
propensity appears to be a passion rather than a
reasoned effort in the direction of nest building. A
nest is recorded, built in seventeen days, in the bell-
tower of Eton College Chapel, which formed a solid
pillar ten feet in height, and a second completely
blocked the tower stairs in Hillington Church in
Norfolk, rising to twelve feet and amounting to
about a cartload in bulk. If a nest merely had
been desired all these herculean labours might have
been avoided by the simple expedient of selecting
a ledge at a sufficient elevation to begin with.

Although the Jackdaw finds a resort in so many
localities, especiallv in church towers, and in crags
which overhang the river or the sea, what may be
described as his true home is the dismantled castle
or abbey, grey with age and well-nigh buried in the
trees. Here, indeed. Time has so changed the
cruder handiwork of man, that the ruins seem to
have entirelv reverted to Nature's keeping, and now
form little more than a rocky and picturesque set-
ting for the ivy and the varied vegetation which
spring from the interstices.

On what was once the smooth pleasaunce, worn
by the feet of warrior or monk, beds of tall-growing
nettles appear, where the ubiquitous rabbits burrow,
heaping the brown earth upon the green. Within
the cloistered hall, the blue sky may be caught
between the leaves of trees, which, growing high
on the slope behind, stretch their branches over the
roofless walls. The ledges and sills are covered w^ith

2o8 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

soft green moss, and in every embrasure, grasses
grow, sometimes intermingling with the sprays of
the wild-rose. Within the dim aisles, the wings
of the Stock-Dove gleam as she sails through the
carved window to seek her nest. Many Starlings
fly busily in and out or alight chattering on the
ledges, and from the overhanging trees the " coo-
roo-roo " of the Wood Pigeon comes softly. Find-
ing foothold in the grass-grown masonry far
aloft, a mountain-ash grows horizontally, and here,
as well as upon the walls and turrets, the Jackdaws
swarm in noisy hordes. Sometimes they crowd
upon the limb and rest for a time in comparative
silence; then, as though at some prearranged
signal, they all burst into the air, making the
monastic solitudes ring with their reiterated cries.

To mv mind the Jackdaw never appears in his
true habitat save when he is surrounded bv shattered
towers and by ivy-covered walls.

With many jackdaw-like qualities, yet with char-
acteristics altogether his own, the ^Magpie has a
notable place in bird-historv. He is a familiar
figure in many countries, and wherever he appears,
legends have been woven about him by the super-
stitious. L^nlike the Raven, he is not a constant
bringer of ill-luck, his influence on futurity depend-
ing, somev.hat curiously, on the numbers in which
he chances to be seen—

" One for sorrow and two for mirth,
Three for a wedding and four for a birth ; '"'

and although in certain localities odd and even

MAGPIE

YOUNG MAGPIES

CROWS 213

numbers may be seen, clay by day, for months,
without depressing resuhs following on the one
hand, or exceptional exhilaration on the other, the
wiseacres still point to any isolated coincidence as
a conclusive proof of the truth of the adage.

The distribution of the Magpie in Great Britain
is most erratic; in some districts it is extremely rare,
and in others a distinctly abundant species. In
Ireland, at one time, it seems to have been entirely
unknown, a fact upon which certain ancient wTiters
appear to have congratulated themselves. " Ire-
land hath neither chattering Pye nor vndermining
Moule," wrote one Moryson, in 1617; and in the
" Tracts " published by the Irish Archccological
Society in 1841, it is stated, " There is here neither
mol, pye nor carren crow." Now the Magpie is
an abundant bird in Ireland.

A century ago it appears to have been plentiful
throughout all parts of England, and ^Montagu
states " that thouoii shv it rarely removes far from
the habitation of man." Writing eighty years
later, the editor of Yarrell points out that this was
no doubt true of the bird at that period, but " a Pie
near a human dwelling, so far as England is con-
cerned, is now-a-days hardly to be seen from one
year's end to another's." This statement, again,
does not hold good at the present time, for in the
suburbs of certain densely-populated towns — Leeds
in particular^ — -Magpies have increased amazingly in
numbers, making their nests in the shrubberies and
gardens, and constantly appearing upon the lawns
and about the buildings.

The fact, however, that these birds rapidly

214 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

diminish in number in one locality and increase in
another is not surprising. Like the Carrion Crow,
an outlaw, the Magpie is constantly harassed in all
places where game is preserved. In the breeding
time every nest is marked, and the parents and
young, if possible, destroyed. The persistent use
of traps and poison in the winter would speedily
complete the work of annihilation if the Magpie
were a bird of less intelligence and resource. But
he soon appears to grasp the situation, and abandon-
ing the fields and coverts of the countryside, he seeks
refuge in small pheasantless domains in close
proximity to the towns, where, in many cases, his
beauty and sprightliness render him a welcome
guest, and where his small misdemeanours may be
readily overlooked.

The destructive character of the ]Magpie, especi-
ally where eggs and young game-birds are con-
cerned, cannot be gainsaid, and his instinct in dis-
covering hidden prey is at times uncanny in its
omniscience. After shooting an outlying field, I
once concealed two dead rabbits in the cavities of a
rough stone wall, a hundred yards apart, placing
stones upon them so that no vestige of their fur
could be seen. At the time no Magpie was in sight,
but on returning half an hour later, I saw the black
and white wings drooping across the meadow. In
each case the stones had been thrust aside, and
the eves of the rabbits carefully extracted.

The ^Magpie's nest as a defensive stronghold
could not well be improved upon. It is dome-shaped,
and built amidst the densely growing but thinner
branches of the tree, the hole by which the bird

CROWS 219

enters being always on the side away from the tree-
trunk. Thus, tliough the cHmber may reach the
base of the nest, he finds liimself confronted with
stout outworks of spiny thorns which are difficuh
to tear away, and the hole through which easy
access might be gained is ever far from the
lacerated hand.

That the Tawny Owl often takes possession of the
deserted nest of the ^lagpie is well known. But it
would further appear that conflicts sometimes arise
between the two birds as to which shall become
the owner. ]\[r. ^letcalfe tells me that he once found
a Magpie's nest containing three eggs, and also
two eggs of the Tawny Owl. It would appear that
the Owl had taken illicit possession and had sub-
sequently been ejected with violence, signs of the
struggle remaining in the shape of the Owl's
feathers which decorated the surrounding branches
and the thorny spikes of the nest.

One bird there is that for me always adds a
deeper interest to sylvan scenery — the Jay.

Turning from the dusty highroad, a little gateless
lane winds through the wood. It is so rarely used
that even the wheel-tracks of the timber wagons are
now overgrown with grass. On the low banks
primroses spring amidst the young fronds of the
ferns, and growing about the green-moulded boles
of the taller trees the alders and hazel bushes form
quite a thick hedge. On the banks the Robin and
Willow Wren nest, season by season, and a Green
Woodpecker may sometimes be seen drooping across
the way to alight upon one of the lower trunks. As

220 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

one follows the little track, the interlacing boughs
and leaves on either hand appear well-nigh impene-
trable, but at length a break is found in the tangle —
the run, it may be, of a hare or a fox — and by
following this one may reach the inner recesses of
the wood.

Within, the coppice still grows thickly, and it is
often hard to thread one's way through the stiff
branches, but one comes at last to an open space, a
tiny dell, where a fallen tree-trunk, decayed and
moss-grown, lies amidst the bracken and dead
leaves.

It is silent here; sometimes the faint cry of the
Wood Wren comes from some distant tree-top, but,
for the most part, there is no sign of bird life. One
mav wait long — half an hour or more — and see no
trace of a moving wing. At length, slight warbling
notes come from the deepest part of the thicket,
checked instantly and followed by jerky sounds,
almost like words in some unknown tongue imper-
fectly articulated. Amidst these one diml}^ recog-
nizes the cries of familiar birds and animals, as in
the chattering of the Starling, but here the tones
are so low and rapid that the ear can distinguish
nothing clearly.

Anxious to get on more familiar terms Vsith the
strange musician, we creep, as silently as may be,
through the underwood. But our woodcraft avails
us little. Through a vista in the leaves, we catch the
barest glimpse of the blue wing-plumes and the
white patch on the back of the Jay as he seeks new
solitudes untainted bv the presence of an invader.

These notes of the Jay are not, I think, commonly

JAY

JAY OX M-:sT

CROWS 225

heard, the harsh screaming cry being much more
famiHar. For the Jay is a bird of extremes. At
certain times of the year it is one of the most noisy
as ^^ell as one of the wariest of its race. But from
the moment the nest is made it relapses into absolute
silence, and few sitting birds will permit so careless
and so near an approach.

Mr. Metcalfe's photograph was taken at the dis-
tance of a couple of yards, and the Jay, when posing
for her picture, showed not the slightest disposition
to leave.

Although the Jay is by no means free from evil
propensities in the way of egg-stealing, it is to be
hoped that an increasing love of Nature will induce
the owners of British woodlands to preserve him
from extirpation. In the matter of wild birds and
flowers thev are the trustees of posterity, and the
destruction of so beautiful and interesting a species
is a crime which their children may not readily
forgive.

15

DOVES

In the deeps of the woodlands, a little path winds,
iintended, and overgrown with soft green moss like
a carpet. Straggling thickets — chiefly of alder —
grow on either hand, and here the Blackcap and
the shy Garden Warbler may be heard singing, or
seen moving furtively in the leaves. Sometimes a
Pheasant crosses the little track, standing resplen-
dent for a moment, and then disappearing in the
undergrowth. High trees rise from amidst the
alders, over-arching the way, and dappling the
path with a network of shadows. From the upper
branches comes a soothing sound, a sound in per-
fect keeping with the serenity of the wood — " coo-
coo, roo-roo," louder at lirst, and sinking at the close
into the merest murmur. Soon one gains a glimpse
of blue-grey plumage high amidst the leaves, and
the Ring-dove may be seen bending low and croon-
ing upon the bough. In early spring, the soft coo
may be heard almost the whole day long, but, as
summer advances, it becomes intermittent, or ceases
altogether. It is strange that the Wood-pigeon, as
the Ring-dove is commonly called, loving, as it
does, to rest on the loftiest trees, and being so
wary a bird, should descend to such low elevations
in its choice of nesting site.

Close to the path, the ground at one point sud-
226

DOVES 227

denly falls away. Stone has been taken from this
place at some time to repair the walls about the
estate. This must have been long ago, for all trace
of the crude workings of a quarry has disappeared;
there is nothing now but a deep woodland hollow,
the scattered fragments of stone being covered with
moss and partly overgrown with brambles, whilst
in June the track, once rutted with the wheels 01
the stone-carts, has been turned by time into a
sloping glade, filled with ferns and bluebells.
Here, small oaks and alders, with an occasional
holly, grow freely, and to this lowly spot the Wood-
pigeons droop from the great trees around, and
form quite a little colonv of nests, none more than
twelve or fifteen feet from the ground.

Leaving the path, one may creep through the
brushwood to the steepest side of the quarry, and
look down through the gaps in the leafage right
upon the nests. The platforms of dry sticks which
the pigeons erect vary very much ; when originally
made they are often so flimsy that they would
seem to be insufficient to support the sitting
bird; but, as in many cases they are repaired
season by season, they become in time fairly
solid structures.

Carefully sheltered in the thicket, we may soon
hear the rustling wings of the great pigeon as she
glides through the branches, always approaching
from the same direction, and may see her standing
upon the nest-side, stretching out her neck as she
proceeds to feed her clamouring young. They,
with beating wings and querulous cries, thrust their
bare bills into the throat of the parent, her crop

228 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

serving as a feeding-bottle, and she thus supphes
them with its half-digested, curd-like contents — the
pigeon-milk of the more observant rustics; a dis-
covery which at one time brought upon them the
ill-merited scorn of the less well-informed.

The young Wood-pigeon, seen in the nest, is one
of the most ungainly and helpless of birds. Bare
of feathers, blind for nine days, and utterly depend-
ent upon the care of his parents for several weeks
longer, it stands in marked contrast w-ith the young
of the game-birds, or of the Waterhen, which, with
bright eyes, and clad in a garb of serviceable
down, are able to take up the battle of life at the
moment they emerge from the shell.

The Wood-pigeon is one of the species which
has benefited by the strict game preservation of
these latter days. Fir coverts, to w^hich Pheasants
resort, are now so jealously guarded, that they form
sanctuaries throughout the length and breadth of
the land, and here the Wood-pigeon, together with
many of the lesser birds, find a harbour of refuge
where they may rear their young in the most per-
fect security. Increased cultivation of the land has
also done much to extend their range, so that to-
day they are an abundant species in many localities
— East Lothian, for example — where a century ago
they were altogether unknown.

Vast hordes of immigrants, too, from Scandinavia
and north-eastern Europe, visit this country in
winter. These are said to be smaller, darker in
colour, and somewhat differing in their manner of
flight from the home-bred birds, and, notwithstand-
ing the incessant war waged against them by the

VOUXG WOOD-PIGEOX IX XEST

YOUXG TURTLE-DOVES

DOVES 231

aggrieved agriculturists, their numbers appear to
increase rather than to diminish.

The Stock-dove is another tree-loving bird, but
one which differs materially from the Ring-dove,
both in appearance and in habits. In the older
English parks, where the ancestral oaks arise in
isolated groups to give shelter to the deer, one or
more trees in each are found blasted by the storms.
The upper branches of these may still give signs
of vitality, but the great rifts in the lower trunks,
and the dead limbs standing starkly out amidst the
sparse foliage above, show that their days are
numbered.

These decaying trees offer attractions to many
species of birds. Here the Green Woodpecker
comes to tap the loosened bark from base to summit
for the insects which lie beneath. On the dead
branches above, the chattering Starlings sit, or a
grey-polled Jackdaw may suddenly descend, 'to
disappear in a hole in one of the upper limbs which
he has chosen for his nest. Here, too, one may see
the black and white plumes of the Pied Flycatcher,
or the bright flickering tail of the Redstart, for in
the mouldering recesses of the oak each finds a
suitable place for the rearing of its young. Some-
times a mass of discarded pellets at the foot of the
tree warns us that a Tawny Owl has taken lodgment
in the great cavity of the upper trunk.

But, as we rest in the dense bracken, lately
vacated by the deer, the bird which we have come
to seek, suddenly appears. It flies swiftly, with
even wing-strokes, and alights on a dead branch ;

232 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

then it flutters to a hole in the trunk, steadying
itself for a second on a piece of dislodged bark,
and abruptly vanishes. It is the true Stock-dove,
so often confused with other species, especially with
its near kinsman of the Rocks. Although it rested
for so brief a space of time upon the bough, w^e
had time to note the uniform hue of its grey-blue
plumage, and especially to mark the smaller size
and the absence of the white neck-ring, which sets
it apart from the Wood-pigeon. On the other
hand, we observe that it lacked the broad band of
white at the base of the tail, the unfailing badge of
the Rock-dove.

Here, in the dust of the cavity, the Stock-dove
lays its two creamv-white eggs, making little or no
nest, but in more open districts it often selects sites
far less secure. Thus, in parts of Norfolk and
Suffolk, it may be seen to enter a deserted rabbit-
burrow, or the eggs may be found in one of the
narrow runs beneath dense furze-bushes.

Whether the title Stock-dove was originally
applied to this bird, because of its habit of nesting
in the trunks or " stocks " of trees — its German
name, Hohltaube, or Hole-dove, is plainly so de-
rived— or whether the bestowers of the name con-
ceived the bird to be the " stock " from which all
varieties of domestic pigeons originated, is by no
means clear. The presumption is that the former is
the true explanation, for it is questionable if the
wonderful deviations from type seen in domestic
pigeons to-day were at all understood before
Darwin set forth the facts in his Variations of
Plants and Animals under Domestication.

DOVES 233

Now, there is little doubt that all varieties of
tame pigeons, ranging from the tall, upright pouter
to the minute, short-faced tumbler, with all the
intermediate differences of colour and form, are
the result of artificial selection brought to bear upon
a race which for thousands of years has been under
the dominion of man; and it is further clear that
the original stock, the typical pigeon from which
all these gradations arose, was a species at any rate
closely allied to the Stock- and Rock-doves as we
know them to-day.

In addition to the nesting sites named, the Stock-
dove frequents wooded inland cliffs, and much
confusion has been brought about by its habit of
consorting with the true Rock-doves in the crags
by the sea-coast.

It is certain that many rock-dwellers on the En or-

o

lish sea-line are really Stock-doves, and even in
localities where the wild Rock-dove is known to
exist, it is not always easy to distinguish it with
certainty. In the white cliffs of Bempton and
Speeton, near Flamborough, which lie before my
window as I write, great numbers of pigeons con-
gregate, nesting together in the caves. In a mixed
bag of these, one finds the Stock-doves and Rock-
doves in about equal proportions, but with the
birds which have all the characteristics of the true
Rock-dove, are pigeons with checkered wings, and
sometimes mottled with buff and white, plainly
showing their farmhouse origin. As in the dove-
cotes in the neighbourhood, domesticated Blue
Rocks are found which differ in no respect from
the wild pigeons of the Shetlands or the Achill

234 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Islands, it is impossible to distinguish between the
races which from time immemorial have been
denizens of the sea-caves, and those which, weary-
ing of civilization, have merely reverted to their
ancestral haunts.

Returning to the woodland birds, the last of the
species entitled to consideration here is the beauti-
ful little Turtle-dove. Unlike any of its congeners,
it is a summer visitor only to the British Islands,
reaching England at about the end of April. It
may be distinguished at once by its smaller size
and by the delicate hues of its cinnamon-brown and
black-barred back and wings. The distribution of
the Turtle-dove was at one time largely confined
to the more southerly counties, and a line drawn
across Yorkshire was held roughly to define its
northern limit. Now it appears not only to be
becoming more common in districts previously
resorted to, but also to be extending its range
northward.

I remember a spot on the banks of a densely-
wooded little stream in Breconshire, where the
Turtle-doves came every morning to drink, and as
one fished up-stream, hidden by the overhanging
boughs, they might be seen resting on the shingle
ahvays at the same place. When alarmed they rose
lightly, threading their way through the thickest
trees without any relaxation of speed.

Like the Ring-dove, the Turtle-dove forms a
slight platform of dry sticks on which to lay her
eggs, the nest being frequently placed on the hori-
zontal branch of a fir-tree close to the stem. It may

DOVES 235

be noted here that the Collared Turtle-dove, T.
risoriiis, the Eastern species so commonly seen in
confinement in England, sometimes escapes and
reverts to the trees to build. Some years ago 1
saw the nest of one of these birds in the depths of a
wood far removed from any human dwelling. The
structure itself was of the frailest kind, consisting
of a few stout twigs lined with leaves, and appeared
barely sufficient to support the increasing weight
of the nestlings. It rested on the horizontal branch
of an elm-sapling overgrown with honeysuckle, at
about seven or eight feet from the ground.

The Collared Turtle-dove will live for many
years in captivity; records of twentv and thirty
being not uncommon.

PHEASANTS AND WOODCOCK

Both the Pheasant and the Woodcock may be
accounted true birds of the woodlands. In some
respects the history of the former is unique. To
begin with, the Pheasant is the only feathered
alien introduced into Great Britain whose acclim-
atization can be regarded as an unmixed success.
Many foreign birds have been brought here from
time to time — the American Turkey and the French
Red-legged Partridge amongst others — but they
have either failed to take root or have become some-
thing of a nuisance. The Pheasant alone is a
prosperous as well as a highly welcome guest.

]\Iythological tradition attributes to Jason and his
Argonauts the introduction of the bird from the
banks of the River Phasis in Colchis. In any case
the fable has given rise to both the generic and the
specific names of the Pheasant — Phasianns col-
cliicus — and it is unquestionably true that his
original habitat is the marshy forests on the borders
of the Black Sea, into which the waters of the
classic Phasis eventually flow.

The exact date of the Pheasant's first appearance
on English soil is lost in the mists of antiquity.
As in the case of so many other birds, the earliest
record is contained in a bill of fare. In a.d. 1059
a certain worthy canon compiled in choice Latin

236

^^

i^

1^54

^ ^ 1^

\m,p.

Z Ui^s^i

^h.

\\L,W

%

f^^"

pheasant's nest

(P/io^ff hy J. Atkinson)

PHEASANTS AND WOODCOCK 239

a menu for the Feast of St. Michael, and in it we
find " thrushes, magpies, geese, partricks and
fesants." It is thus clear that the Pheasant was
naturalized in England before the Norman Con-
quest, and as the early English and the Danes
showed little interest in such matters, the presump-
tion is that the bird was originally brought here by
the Romans, who are also known to have intro-
duced the fallow deer to Great Britain. The
superior edible qualities of the bird were clearly
recognized even in an age which could stomach
Magpies. In a.d. 1290 the market price of a
Pheasant ran up to fourpence as against three-
half-pence for a Duck or a couple of Woodcock.

So for well-nigh a thousand years the Pheasant
of Phasis, who had now gained the title of the Old
English Pheasant, lived and thrived upon British
soil. But now serious opposition appeared. To-
wards the close of the eighteenth century a new
Chinese Pheasant — P. torqiiatus by name — was
introduced.

The males of this species were small but hardy,
and were distinguished by a white ring about the
neck. In a very brief period these warlike invaders
overpowered Colchicus and appropriated his wives,
and to-day the white ring, the mark of the con-
queror, will be found on the neck of almost every
cock Pheasant which decorates the game-dealer's
window. This fact is of especial interest to natural-
ists, for it shows how rapidly one race may super-
sede another.

One other peculiarity in pheasant-life may be
noted. As in the human species we have the New

240 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Woman, who is usually a more or less inferior
imitation of a man — so the hen Pheasant sometimes
takes upon herself the lordly and resplendent
plumage of the cock. She is not a success, how-
ever : she is incapable of domesticity,^ and biolo-
gists dismiss her curtly. Her imposing exterior is
merely the result of certain internal derangements.

The Woodcock, too, is a bird with certain
marked peculiarities in its life's history.

In these latter days, when so many birds are
growing scarcer in Great Britain, or have already
disappeared, it is satisfactory to find one . species
which appears to be increasing in numbers as a
regular English resident. A few decades ago the
nesting of a Woodcock in these islands was an
event of sufficient novelty to be deemed worthy of
special record. Now, owing it is thought to the
increase of plantations — especially of fir^ covers in
the vicinity of cultivated ground — nests are found
in every county, and the number of "cock"
remaining to breed is undoubtedly growing larger.

Cover, however, is by no means essential to the
nesting of the Woodcock. In Shetland, for
instance, which is practically treeless, Saxby found
it breeding annually on the hillsides of Herman-
ness, the most northern point of the most northern
of the Shetland group. In England the breeding

1 I make this statement on the high authority of Mr. Teget-
meier. Mr. Murdoch, however, tells me that the infertility of
these " hen-cocks " has since been disproved. Experiments
carried out at his recjuest by one of the King's gamekeepers
proved that they were perfectly fertile.

PHEASANTS AND WOODCOCK 241

area now appears to be generally distributed, and
nests occur reoularly in Sussex and Middlesex, and
in Surrey even so near to the metropolis as
Streatham. It also breeds extensively in north
Lancashire and in Westmorland.

From a sporting point of view the Woodcock is
treated entirely as a migrant, and the close time is
fixed at March ist — the date when the foreign
birds prepare to leave these islands. In considera-
tion of the large numbers which now breed in
Great Britain, this date should properly be changed
for an earlier one. The Woodcock is known to be
an exceptionally early breeder, and in March the
resident birds are already paired, and, in many
cases, engaged in nesting. St. John states that he
has found eggs as early as March gth, and there
are many instances of young fully-fledged birds
occurring in April. Bv parity of reasoning, there-
fore, the "cock" should be allowed at least as
much law as the Partridge or even as the Grouse.

The nest of the Woodcock is usually a mere
depression in the dead fern- or oak-leaves, a few
fibres being drawn together to form a rude cup.
When a wood or coppice is available, the bird takes
advantage of the shelter from rain and wind, but
it appears to make little or no attempt at conceal-
ment. In the illustration it will be seen that the
site chosen is in quite an exposed part of the wood,
open to the eye of the passer-by, the adjacent under-
wood in which the sitting bird would be completely
hidden, being altogether ignored. It is a curious
fact in Nature that some birds, and most mammals,
exercise the greatest solicitude in securing seclusion
16

242 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

for their family home, whilst others seem to be quite
careless in this respect. For instance, the fox,
otter, rabbit or rat, hide their young in holes or
rocky fastnesses, leaving the hare almost alone to
brave the dangers of the open, whilst birds so far
apart as the Golden Eagle and the Willow Wren
either seek inaccessible crags or artfully conceal
their nests in the densest vegetation.

Amongst birds which make no attempt at conceal-
ment, and whose nests are readily accessible, the
Woodcock, Nightjar, and Curlew may be taken as
examples ; but in all these cases it may be noted
that the plumage of the sitting bird blends so well
with its surroundings that identification is by no
means easy.

The Woodcock is a close sitter, and it was pos-
sible to approach within a few yards of the subject
of this picture before she took the alarm. Even at
these close quarters, the mottled-browns and greys
of her feathers harmonized so completely with the
withered herbage around her that she might easily
have been overlooked. The point which first
arrested attention was the bird's eye. The living
eye has a peculiar light which sets it apart from
any other object in Nature. The glisten of a dew-
drop or the shine of a polished leaf are quite
different in quality.

The arrival of the Woodcock on the October
migration is an event eagerly looked for by the
gunners on certain waste places on our eastern
coasts. The birds usually come in early in the
morning, performing the journey from Norway or
Sweden in about ten or twelve hours. AMien the

WOODCOCK

AAOODCOCK S NEST

PHEASANTS AND WOODCOCK 245

visitation is expected, a keen look-out is kept. Tlie
birds are rarely seen approaching from a long
distance as in the case of the Fieldfare and the Red-
wing, but fly at an immense height and suddenly
appear as though dropping from the clouds. The
Woodcock is practically nocturnal, but it is one of
the curious features of migration that many birds
which are strictly diurnal also elect to travel by
nio-ht.

One explanation is that the travellers are not
able to support the long fast that a day journey
would entail. By leaving at night they are able to
feed directly before starting, and also to procure
a meal on arrival. If this surmise is true, the
AA'oodcock, being a night-feeder, should travel by
day, but Scalopax as usual refuses to recognize
any theory which might naturally be set up for
the right governing of his conduct.

On reaching the British shore he is usually tired,
and in the old days when shooting was less strictly
regulated, every native in possession of a gun at
once set off in his pursuit. Indeed, so important
was it to snatch the fleeting opportunity, that not
even respect for the Sabbath was allowed to
intervene.

As befits a fowl with so strongly-marked a per-
sonality, the Woodcock has certain habits which
belong to himself alone. Many birds of his tribe
are devoted parents. The Snipe and the Ringed
Dotterel, for example, are adept in all artful wiles
for decoying an unwelcome visitor from their
families. But what wader, long of shank and with
bill utterly unsuited for such a purpose, has ever

246 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

hit upon the bold and original expedient of picking
up the young bodily and carrying them clean out
of danger ? Tiie fact that the Woodcock does so
has long been observed, but how has been a puzzle
to naturalists for generations. Like the " drum-
ming " of the Snipe, it has been the occasion of
great and even bitter controversy. For a long time
the confident man held the field — " The Woodcock
carries its young in its bill." Gilbert White
plainly has his " doots." Then comes the second
confident man — " The AA'oodcock carries its young
in its claws." Again there are "doots."

Nor is the burning question finally settled.
Scientific opinion, however, leans to the belief that
the Woodcock carries its young neither in its claws
nor its bill, but that the nestling is pressed against
the breast of the parent, and the long, slender legs
are brought up tightly by way of support.

TYPICAL NESTING SITE OF THE WOODCOCK

SNIPE

Perhaps no truer citizen of the world exists than
the Common Snipe. In Greenland or the Canaries,
in Siberia or Japan, the familiar " scape-scape "
may be heard as the orange and brown-barred form
springs from reed-bed or water-course, and at once
becomes a mere speck in the distant sky.

Seeing that the Snipe lives in all climates and
amidst the utmost variety of scene, it is perhaps
difficult to speak of its " haunt," yet I think that
for most naturalists or sportsmen the w^ord " snipe "
will bring to the mind's eye a single picture which
is felt instinctively to be that of the bird's true home
and habitat.

On every hand the grey mountains rise, and the
little road winds through them like a tape thrown
loosely down on the heather. There is a reedy lake
away in the hills, and from this a slowly running
stream takes its course through the dead flat of the
valley. At one point the valley is wide as the lake
itself, now it narrows where the hills draw closer
together and becomes a valley of reeds; a green,
rush-grown flat dotted all over with white cotton
flags, and with " splashes " here and there which
catch the sun.

This bog-land may be said to be the Snipe's true
home. Whether the British-born Snipe migrates

249

250 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

from the land of his birth is a difficult question to
answer. It is certain that a few pairs are always
to be found here summer and winter, and they were
probably bred on the lower heathery ground which
slopes to the bog. So it may be that the man who
would learn something of the life-history of the
Common Snipe can find no better point of observa-
tion than this remote corner of the county of Kerry.

There are three true British Snipe only, for the
Red-breasted Snipe, although classed as a British
bird, is a rare American straggler, and Sabine's
Snipe is now known to be a mere melanic variety of
the common species. These three are known as the
Great, the Common, and the Jack, or, in old fowlers'
phrases, the double, the full, and the half snipe,
these terms having reference to the relative sizes of
the birds. One onl}^, the Common, nests in the
British Isles. The Great Snipe breeds in Norway
and Sweden, and in other parts of the Continent,
and is a comparatively rare visitant to Great Britain.
The Jack, on the other hand, comes here in com-
paratively large numbers on migration, but until
recent years its nest and eggs had never been dis-
covered. They were first found by Mr. J. Wolley
in a marsh in Lapland, and subsecjuently Messrs.
Seebohm and Harvie-Brown came upon the nests
in the delta of the Petchora river in Siberia.

The nest of the Common Snipe, if the few bits
of dried grass scraped together in a hollow can be
called a nest, is not easy to find. Perhaps in one
sense it may be said never to be found at all. The
secret of its hiding-place is usually given away, and
given away by the very skill and care which the bird

SNIPE 253

uses in order to prevent its discovery. If, at the
first footfall of the intruder, the Snipe sprang as
though casually, from her eggs, and went straight
away : better still, if she remained perfectly quies-
cent in the sheltering heath until the danger had
gone by, all would be well. But she waits until the
foe is upon her and then runs from the nest with
trailing wings or flies a few yards only to drop
struggling to the earth as though mortally wounded.
It is a marvellous piece of deception, but, alas, to
the prying bird-watcher, it tells the whole story —

" Methinks the lady doth protest too much " —

and straightway he examines every nook and recess
in the heather until the three or four sharply-
pointed, brown mottled eggs, unduly large in rela-
tion to the size of the bird, rest before his eyes.

The young, curious little balls of fluff, are able to
run almost as soon as hatched, and they hide them-
selves in the heather until their wings are grown.
It is chiefly during the period of incubation that the
parent Snipe develops the singular habit from
which its many local names — heather-bleater, moor-
lamb, air-goat, and so on — are derived, and which
has given rise to grave disputes amongst natural-
ists. On a still evening in early summer one may
hear, high in the air, a vibrant "humming" or
*' bleating " sound, and a flying Snipe is seen sud-
denly to turn and to dash himself down almost per-
pendicularly for many yards, and it is as he
descends that the sound is emitted. For long it was
believed to be a cry, but as far back as 1858 a
Swedish ornithologist wrote an elaborate treatise to

254 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

prove that it was produced by the vibration of the
stiff webs of the outer tail-feathers. This theorv,
in its turn, was partly discredited, and, as Mr. J. E.
Harting and others have now shown, the sound
proceeds mainly from the action of the wings.

Another striking peculiarity of the Snipe
family, which, however, thev share to some extent
with the Woodcock and others, is the bill. This is
a delicate piece of mechanism, the nerves reaching
to the extreme tip. Bv no instrument less sensitive
could these birds, feeding often by night, find their
prey hidden in the mud of the swampy reed-beds.
A Jack Snipe which I kept alive for some time was
provided with a shallow leaden tank filled to the
depth of several inches with soft mud. Into this a
quantity of small worms were placed daily, which
soon wriggled out of sight, and in the morning the
surface of the mud was completely perforated with
small holes, and ever}^ worm extracted. As it
became a somewhat serious business to provide a
fresh supplv of worms daily — the voracity of my
small guest was something extraordinary — I en-
deavoured to supplement his diet with narrow,
worm-like shreds of raw beef, also hidden in the
mud. But in no case did the Snipe's discriminat-
ing bill allow him to be deceived. In the morn-
ing the beef was still buried in the mud and the
worms alone taken.

To return to the ideal snipe-ground amid the
Kerry hills. All through the summer and early
autumn months, comparatively few birds may be
flushed by the trout-fisher as he returns from the
lake by the side of the stream. But one day, in

SNIPE 255

late October, a sudden change comes. From
almost ever}' bunch of reeds, a Snipe springs, and
in one little patch of bog-land, barely half an acre
in extent, they may be counted by dozens. As the
Snipe spring merrily from the rushes, one bird
rises which is plainly seen to be smaller than the
rest. His flight, too, is different, and he utters no
quick " scape-scape " of surprise at being disturbed.
Indeed, he rises quite silently, and flies lightly and
rather aimlessly for a little distance, when he
drops suddenly into the reeds again. He is a Jack,
who probably first saw the light in some sheltered
valley in Lapland. He is far less easily alarmed
than his larger congener, and as one walks through
the reeds, he will often rise and alight again many
times in succession.

BIRDS OF THE FIELD

A NARROW footpath runs by the side of the hedge
which is already white wdth may-blossom. To the
left of the path the mowing-grass is growing high,
and in many places the taller stems, weighted by
their burden of seed, bend over the little track
which is lost for a moment in a tunnel of green.

Like w^ater hollowed by the wind, the grass grows
sparsely in some places, where the uplifted head of
a Partridge may be seen ; in others, the waves of
green rise higher, tinted bv the red plumes of the
sorrel and bv the vellow of innumerable butter-
cups, and here a bird is lost as a man might be in
a wood. The tangle is so dense that the eye soon
wearies of the attempt to distinguish even a few of
the infinite varieties of blade and stem. Over the
fragrant surface the butterflies flit. A dragon-fly,
plated in sapphire mail, comes, with wavering
flight, from the little pool by the oak-trees and
rests motionless on his filmy rainbow wings. For
a little time he waits, then he drifts swiftly away
as though blown by some secret wand.

In the cool recesses of the grass, a myriad smaller
insects creep. Sometimes a lady-bird ascends a
tall, smooth stem as a sailor might climb a mast,
and surveys from the height the waving expanse of
green, or a bee, bending the stem by his w-eight,

256

17

BIRDS OF THE FIELD 259

descends laboriously as through the branches of a
tree, to the red clover which is growing beneath.

Hidden, too, in the deeps is the tiny harvest
mouse, least of the British quadrupeds, six of which
are required to weigh down one ordinary mouse,
and which for so many years evaded the notice of
naturalists. Near the top of the stouter stems the
nest, like a miniature cricket ball, is woven, and
the young are born in a cradle which never ceases
to be swayed by every breath of wind.

In the mowing-grass, too, many birds find a
refuge and a safe hiding-place for their nests. As
one watches, a Skylark may be seen flying swiftly,
bearing food in its bill. The surface of the field
appears so bare of landmarks that it seems impos-
sible it should find its way with certainty to the spot
where the nest lies. But no man can observe wild
creatures with any degree of care without being
forced to the conclusion that certain of our own
senses are either rudimentary or in a far state of
degeneracy, when compared with those of many of
the lower animals. Man's sense of smell, for
example, is so feeble a thing that only the strongest
and most nearly placed odours affect it at all. To
the otter or the fox, it is a channel through which
information the most varied and obscure, reaches
the brain. The red deer on the hill becomes per-
fectly aware of the approach of the stalker when
the man himself is still climbing the corrie a mile
away. The setter is seen to be intoxicated by the
presence of grouse when to the dull human sense
no sign of living thing can be detected in the heather
spreading for leagues around. These facts suggest

26o ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

many questions. Animals appear to derive no
pleasure from the fragrance of flowers, nor are they
repelled by odours offensive to us. Yet this cannot
arise from a lack of power to distinguisli. It would
appear that in their wider experience, these things
are not always what they seem. The creatures of
the field must be susceptible of a variety of influ-
ences from which we are debarred from sheer lack
of capacity to recognize them.

So the Lark wings its way across the mowing-
grass, and its power of correct observation is so true
that every stem rising higher than its fellows pro-
vides it with a certain guide-post. Now it checks
its flight, hovers for a moment and drops close to
the nest where the voung ones are eagerlv awaiting
it. Let the eye be withdrawn for a moment and in
the uniformity of the field it is well-nigh impos-
sible to mark again the spot where it disappeared.

The Skylark's manner of singing is well known.
It rises from the meadow in easy spirals, singing
almost from the ground, and with quivering wings,
slowly ascends, the circles growing wider and
wider, until it is often literally lost in the upper
distance, and the notes, now faint, appear to be
shaken down from the void of the sky. In a little
while, still singing, the tiny speck falls into sight
again and the warbling is continued, until at
length the bird abruptly drops into the grass.

The song of the Skylark has been the theme of
endless eulogy both in verse and prose, although
certain critics regard it as more remarkable for
variety and power than for quality of tone. But,

BIRDS OF THE FIELD 261

perhaps, it is a thing hardly to be tried by mere
technical rule. The circumstances amidst which it
is uttered, the passionate rapture with which the
bird seems to press higher and higher into radiant
space ; the suggestion borne in its thrilled frame,
that it is inspired from some fount of happiness
denied to the common earth-dweller; these might
well lead Shelley to exclaim — -

" Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my hps would flow
The world should listen then, as I am listening now."

In this poem, singularly true to the facts, one
couplet occurs which may well baffle the curious —

" Like a cloud of fire
The blue deep thou wingest."

Now, in what respect, it may be asked, can a
Lark possibly resemble a cloud of fire?

It is a fact, perhaps, worth noting, that if an
ascending Lark be observed through the field-
glasses in certain conditions of light, it will be seen
to take on exquisite hues of emerald green and blue,
and to be surrounded by a nimbus as though of
luminous gold.

The nest of the Skylark is formed of dry grass
lined with finer fibres, and is usually placed in some
slight depression on the ground. The eggs — three
to five in number — are of a dull white ground
colour, but are freckled so densely with olive-brown
that this hue appears to be almost uniform. The

262 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

parental instinct of the Lark is so strong that if
the old bird be captured with young, she will not
only rear her own offspring, but will continue to
feed almost any number of alien nestlings which
may be introduced to the cage.

Although the Skylark is resident in English
fields and corn-lands during the whole year, the
flocks are augmented in the autumn by immense
flights of immigrants from the Continent. The
number of birds reaching these shores is altogether
incalculable, the tide of migrants being seen at
times to flow steadily onwards throughout the
whole day.

The Woodlark differs materially from the Sky-
lark both in appearance and in habits. It is a
much shorter bird, is more conspicuously marked
on the breast, and bears above the eye a dis-
tinguishing light-coloured streak. Although it
avoids the deeper woodlands, it constantly perches
upon trees, and its song is heard from the topmost
boughs as well as when the bird is hovering. Like
that of the Skylark the nest is placed upon the
ground in the shelter of growing herbage. The
eggs — four to five in number — are of a faintly
greenish-white ground colour, freckled with olive-
brown. The Woodlark is nowhere an abundant
species, and its distribution is largely confined to
the more southern counties of England.

Of the four other species of Lark included in the
British list, the Shorelark, distinguished by its
black head and throat, is a bird of extremely rare

BIRDS OF THE FIELD 263

occurrence, although of late years an increasing
number of examples have been observed especially
upon the east coast, and the Crested, Short-toed
and White-winged Larks are the merest stragglers.

The Pipits form a small group of birds which
occupy a position between the Wagtails and the
true Larks. Six species of Pipit are included in
the British list. Of these, three, the Water, Tawny
and Richard's Pipits, are extremely rare. The
Water or Alpine Pipit, sometimes confused with
the Rock Pipit, but easily distinguished from it by
the light eye-streak and rufous hue of the breast,
has occurred in Great Britain on some three or four
occasions only. Of the Tawny Pipit, a bird com-
mon on the Continent, about twenty occurrences
have been noted, and of Richard's Pipit, the
largest of the group, about sixty.

The Rock Pipit is a fairlv numerous species which
resorts exclusivelv to the rocks and declivities about
the sea-coast. It has many traits in common with
the ]\Ieadow Pipit, and was for a long time con-
founded with it. It nests more or less regularly
along the whole coast-line with the exception of the
part which lies between the Humber and the
Thames.

Of the two common forms, the Meadow Pipit is
the more widely spread; indeed, wherever open
spaces extend, in pasture, common or moorland, it
is well-nigh ubiquitous. It is usually to be seen
flitting from the grass by the wayside to alight on
the wall, where its sober hues blend with the grey

264 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

stone so completely, that if it were not for its faint
notes uttered intermittently it might easily be
passed by. If the nest be approached, the parent
bird displays no undue anxiety, but remains sitting
inconspicuously upon some rock or stone, piping
softly until at length the intruder has withdrawn.
At these times the notes appear to have some ven-
triloquial quality, for at one moment they sound
close at hand, and at another they reach the ear as
though from some far distance.

In some of the more remote parts of Scotland these
birds are exceptionally tame, rising at one's feet to
alight again on the grass barely a few yards away.
I have known birds with their powers of flight fully
developed, j^ermit themselves to be caught with a
landing-net.

Like the Tree Pipit, this species sings upon the
wing, and in the early days of the nesting season
may be seen making short excursions into the air
and at once descending, singing the while, to the
ground or to some rock.

Although the Titlark may occasionally perch on
a bush or the bough of a tree, its more usual rest-
ing-place is a wall or stone or some grassy tussock
on the heath. As, in the moorlands especially, it
is the commonest of the insectivorous birds, its nest
is constantly selected by the Cuckoo for the foisting
of her alien egg. Whether the parent Titlarks
resent the intrusion of the Cuckoo to their nest, or
whether they merely mistake her for a hawk, can-
not be clearly known, but it is certain that they
protest against her coming with the utmost vehe-
mence, flying excitedly about her, and filling the air

BIRDS OF THE FIELD 265

with reproachful cries. Still, when the egg is laid
they make no effort to rid themselves of it, and
when it is hatched they permit their own offspring
to perish, and devote themselves to the upbringing
of their monstrous charge with a fidelity which
certainly seems worthy of a better cause.

Although in times gone by the Tree Pipit was
constantly confused with the Meadow Pipit, even
by observers so scrupulous as Gilbert White, the
difference in the haunts and habits, as well as in the
appearance, of the two birds is none the less clearly
marked. In the first place, the Tree Pipit is larger,
is buffer in hue, and the breast spots are larger and
fewer in number. The Tree Pipit is less truly a
bird of the fields than is the Meadow Pipit, although
it, too, shuns the deeper recesses of the woods. Its
home, indeed, is usually in the higher trees which
stand, isolated or in groups, in meadows or park-
lands. Here in the earlv summer it may be seen,
perched upon a single dead branch which stands
out starkly against the sky above the dark-green
foliage of some giant oak. Soon it flies into the
air, singing loudly, but instead of ascending sky-
lark-wise in easy spirals, it presses straight upwards
as though it would reach the clouds in a single
burst. It has none of the glorious persistence of
the true sky bird, however, and soon, with rigid
wing and downstretched feet, it sinks back, describ-
ing a half circle in its descent, and, still singing, it
alights again often on the exact spot it so lately left.

It repeats this movement many times, and after a
fall of rain several may be observed within a limited

266 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

area tossing themselves into the sky and falHng
back to the tree-tops, showering their notes broad-
cast the while.

On the ground the Tree Pipit may be seen thread-
ing its way deliberately amidst the longer grasses,
not often appearing in the open and never to be
found running with the swift ease of the Titlark or
Wagtail on the mud-flats or the exposed margins
of brooks. L'nlike the Titlark it is a true migrant,
usually reaching these islands about the middle of
April and departing towards the end of September.

The nest is formed of moss, fine roots and dry
grass, lined with finer grass and a few hairs. It is
usually placed on a hedgebank or amidst long
grass in the meadow near woods or plantations;
often when the trees are open, it is found in the
herbage of the wood itself. The eggs are four to
six in number and are subject to the greatest varia-
tion in colouring, three to four quite distinct types
being met with. The commonest form is greyish-
white, deeply suffused and mottled with rich red-
dish-brown. An occasional variety is of a dull
uniform pink, showing no markings.

The Whinchat and the Yellow Wagtail are both
essentially birds of the fields. The Whinchat
resembles the Stonechat in shape and characteristic
movements, but is less striking in plumage. The
glossy blackness of the head and the rich, bay-
coloured breast, which in the distance gives the
latter something of the appearance of the Bullfinch,
is here replaced by dimmer and browner hues,
although still somewhat of the same character. The

BIRDS OF THE FIELD 269

\Miinchat is a true summer visitor, arriving in
England in April and leaving in September.
Although, as its name implies, it may often be
found on heaths and commons \vhere whins flourish,
its more constant resort is the rich meadow-lands,
and its occasional title Grasschat is certainly a more
appropriate name.

It rears its voung in the deeps of the mowing-
grass, often alighting on the topmost spray of the
creamy flowered angelica, whose hollow stem rises
far above the denser herbage, and here, as summer
advances (if the brood escapes the devastating
machine which sweeps aside their sanctuary in level
swathes), the young may be all seen, accompanying
the hay-makers and uttering their loud, repeated
note — •" utack-utack " — as they perch on some
prominent coign of vantage.

The Whinchat's habit of selecting the very
highest point of a possible resting-place is strongly
marked. If a tall branch be erected in any part of
the hay-field and the Whinchats be gently driven
in the direction, they will be seen to change their
line of flight and to make for it from quite a con-
siderable distance. This practice probably arises
from the fact that they spend so much of their lives
in the uncut hay-fields, and as they flit over the
surface, thev become aware that the lower grasses
afford an insecure foothold ; thus they come instinct-
ively to select the firmer sprays of the taller growing-
stems, which not onlv provide a strong perch, but
also prevent them from being hidden.

Here it may be noted that if a long stick be placed
at a convenient angle against a hedge and a Robin

27C) ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

be similarly driven, it Avill almost invariably alight
upon it to the neglect of many convenient boughs
growing from the hedge itself.

The Yellow Wagtail differs from all other
members of its family. It is a summer visitor only,
and in many of its ways it bears a greater resem-
blance to the Pipits than to any of the Wagtail group.
Like the IMeadow Pipit it loves the open fields,
having no special affinity for water on the one hand,
and rarely drawing near to human habitations on
the other. In shape and carriage it lacks the deli-
cate grace of its kin, its tail being shorter and its
general appearance more Pipit-like. Nevertheless
in full breeding plumage the adult male, with its
canary-coloured breast, is a handsome and con-
spicuous bird.

In the early summer it may be seen hovering over
the young corn, and when the nestlings are being
fed, it usually calls attention to their existence by
flitting from point to point, often alighting on the
topmost spray of hedge or bush, uttering the while
its faint protesting notes. Like others of its race,
the Yellow Wagtail is a most industrious flycatcher,
and half-a-dozen or more may be seen at times in
the level pasture following the slow movements of
the feeding cattle, running in and out between the
animals' legs, and often darting into the air to snap
the insects which gather in swarms around.

The nest is formed of dry grass and moss, lined
with hair, and more rarely with fine roots, and is
usually placed in the mowing-grass or amidst the
young corn.

COCK WHIXCHAT

WHINCHAT ON NEST

BIRDS OF THE FIELD 273

Of the ten species of Bunting, two only, tlie
Common or Corn Bunting and the Yellow-hammer,
are familiar English field birds.

The Reed Bunting is a denizen of the marshes,
and the Ortolan (beloved of the epicure), the Lap-
land, Rustic, Little and the Black-headed Buntings
are all of the rarest occurrence. The Cirl Bunting,
too, is an uncommon species in England except in
the more southern counties, and even here it is by
no means numerous. It may be distinguished by
the black and lemon streaked head, and it differs
from the Yellow-hammer in the fact that the male
resorts to the tops of high trees in order to sing.
The Snow Bunting — a beautiful variety with back
and wings mottled with chestnut and black, and
with head and breast of the purest white — is more
abundant, visiting these shores in winter, and
occasionally, although rarely, breeding in Scotland.
When a flock is seen hovering or alighting against
a dark background, the black and white of the
plumage gives them a singularly picturesque
appearance, and one can well understand how they
liave come to acquire the name of Snowflake.

The Yellow-hammer is by far the most abundant
of the Bunting race. Wander where one will in
English fields and lanes, one is almost certain to
catch a glimpse of its familiar form. It seems to
court rather than to evade observation. See it as
it perches on some overhanging branch of the
hedge, on the summit of a gate-post, or on the
handle of a plough, its crest slightly raised and its
yellow plumage glancing in the sun as it reiterates

274 EN'GLISH BIRD LIFE

its small song, the last notes long drawn out; see
it later in the year feeding with the Chaffinches on
the dark fallow, or in the winter, wrangling with
the Sparrows in the stackyard, and one comes to
realize how closely bound up with every form of
British agriculture this little bird lias become.

In the lower recesses of the hedgerow, often
nearly upon the ground, the nest, made of fine roots
and neatly lined with hair, is placed. The hairs are
mostly long and are cunningly wound round and
round, forming a smooth cup. In order to secure
these the Yellow-hammer again falls back upon his
friend the farmer. W^ell the bird knows every
shed and enclosure where the horses and cattle
shelter, and every post and tree-trunk against which
they rub. In the rugged bark wisps of hair may
be caught, and the Yellow-hammer returns to the
spot again and again, bearing them away, a strand
at a time. On this bed of toilfuUy-coUected material
the curious eggs are laid : of purplish-white covered
with finely drawn irregular black lines, which have
the appearance of cryptic characters inscribed upon
the shell.

Not unfrequently about the corn-lands or in the
mowing-grass a heavy bird, not unlike an over-
grown sparrow, may be noted. As it crosses the
field it displays nothing of the Yellow-hammer's
ease and buoyancy in flight; on the contrary, it
moves in a straight line, with hanging legs and
with wings which appear with difficulty to support
its weight. It alights with a harsh tittering cry
upon a stem of angelica which stands clear of the

LUCK YELLOW-HAMMER FEEDING YOUNG

BIRDS OF THE FIELD 277

long grass, and which bends beneath it ; and here
it remains to utter its monotonous droning song.

The Corn Bunting is the largest of the group. It
is most numerous in the southern counties of Eng-
land, but it is nowhere a very common bird. It
usually builds upon the ground, and the four to six
eggs are of a purplish-white, streaked or spotted
with black or brown.

The Quail and the Common and Red-legged
Partridges are also true field birds. The first is
mainlv a summer visitor, although many occur-
rences have been noted in winter, and the last is
resident since its introduction to this country about
a century ago.

The Common Partridge is now so constantly
under the guardianship of man that, like the
Pheasant, it can hardly be regarded as other than
a semi-domesticated species. Even before it is
hatched its welfare is carefully considered, and
there can be no doubt that under the restrictions of
civilization its original habits are largelv modified.

But although many birds — the Skylark, Meadow
Pipit, Whinchat, Partridge and others — find a
nesting place in the long grass, they only use it
when occasion serves, and will often select a site
elsewhere on bank or heath, or about the whins of
the common. One alone is always true to the growl-
ing crops, seeking the old fields directly it reaches
our shores in late April, rearing its young in their
green shade, rarely leaving them even for a moment
unless driven thence by the harvesters, or until the

278 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

inioratory instinct bids it prepare to retrace its
flight.

As tlie Dipper is the bird of the stream and the
Red Grouse of the heather, so the Corncrake is the
typical bird of the grass.

All its movements are secret. It appears to come
in the night, how, one can hardly tell, for a Corn-
crake on migration is a sight witnessed by few. All
that one knows is that the fields, after the long
silence of winter, suddenly become vocal. Through-
out the day and often far into the night the monoton-
ous " craik-craik, craik-craik " comes, so persistent
and unemotional that it would seem to proceed from
some piece of mechanism rather than from a bird.
If one traces the sound to its source, there is still
no sign of any living thing, no movement of rising
wings, nor even a rustle in the grass. For a while
all is silent; then the "craik-craik" comes again,
faintlv at first, a little way to the left or right. To
follow it is useless; one might as well pursue a
disembodied voice.

Yet in certain favourable circumstances the Corn-
crake may be seen in his chosen haunt, and some-
thing of his ways may be noted. Where the grass
grows sparselv in the meadow close to the little
footpath, a dark form moving amidst the stems may
sometimes be made out. It appears to be feeding,
when suddenlv the head is uplifted and the dull
" craik-craik " is uttered; instantly it stoops, picks
up several seeds from the ground, between tliebarsas
it were, and craiks again with what seems to be the
briefest intermission. There is a strange contrast
between the quick, alert movements of the bird and

PARTRIDGE OX XEST

BIRDS OF THE FIELD 281

I he hoarse, level tones Avhich, from a distance, fall
upon the ear in what would seem to be almost
an unbroken sequence.

Sometimes, on the instant the cr}- is completed,
the Corncrake darts with depressed head through
the herbage, and the notes next come, without
any manifest break in their continuity, from an
entirely different part of the field. The amazing
celerity of the bird's movement accounts in some
measure for the belief that it possesses ventriloquial
power, but at the same time, even when it is quies-
cent, the cry seems to proceed from different places,
the locality being determined by the direction in
which the head happens to be turned.

The Corncrake appears to distrust its own powers
of flight, and rarely takes to the wing except when
driven from its cover. ^ Even then it moves heavih',
with hanging legs, and soon falls again into the
grass; on such occasions it will, at tim.es, run into
the wire rabbit-netting which protects the wood, and
permit itself to be taken bv hand.

There is no doubt but that the apparently defect-
ive wing-power of this species, together with the
fact that it has been repeatedly found, in the depth
of winter, in a semi-comatose state, hidden in loose
stone walls and in rabbit-burrows, gave colour to the
belief that, in common with many other birds, its
habit was to hibernate.

It is now, however, well known that the Corn-
crake is a regular migrant, and that it is capable of

1 There are many records, however, of the Corncrake taking
its slow flight from field to field, and even of uttering its
characteristic cry when upon the wing.

282 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

extended flight is proved by the fact that it not
unfrequently rests upon ships a hundred miles or
more from the nearest land.

The nest of the Corncrake is formed of dry grass,
and the eggs, seven to ten in number, are of a
brownish-white spotted and blotched with red and
grev. When hatched, the young are covered with
black down.

Three other species of Crake — the Spotted, Little
and Baillon's Crake — occur at times in England.
Of these the first is the least uncommon, but the
appearance of all is rare and irregular.

^.sV

\\

i5«-

''i^^-r^

CUKNLK.VKE S NKST WITH EGGS AND YOUNG

BIRDS OF THE HEATH AND COMMON

Standing on this summit the breezy downs lie
at our feet. There is nothing to intercept the eye
until it reaches the misty line which marks the dis-
tant sea. The ground here from time immemorial
has evaded cultivation, and has been given over to
the pasturage of innumerable sheep which crop the
herbage to lawn-like smoothness in the gentle slopes
between the gorse- and whin-bushes. Indeed, the
whins and gorse spread everywhere, forming dark-
green thickets in the winter for the rabbits to hide
in, yet never failing, even in the darkest days, to
yield a few yellow blossoms in the sheltered recesses.
To-day the whole hillside is bright with the fresh
bloom, and the long banks and islands of green
and gold rest upon the landscape as it falls in
rounded outlines to the edge of the low cliffs.

On the right, a ravine extends far into the land,
and in its depths one can catch glimpses of the
brown stream amidst the tangle of low trees and
(jverhanging brambles. Here the \A"oodcock and
the Short-eared Owls come in the autumn to rest
awhile after crossing the North Sea, and on
occasions, every stunted bush and wooded brake is
alive with the migrant Golden-crests. But these
are merely stray visitors, dependent upon the
seasons and often deterred by contrary winds.

285

286 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Some of the true denizens of these waste places arc,
however, never far absent. The Grey Linnet is the
most constant of any. Akhough in winter many
join the flocks of wandering finches which travel
far to feed on the stubbles, and even, in severe
weather, about the farmsteads, it is rarely indeed
that we cross the gorselands without a sight of the
white-lined wings, or at least without hearing the
wild call-notes as the birds flit from one whin-bush
to another. Now, when the gorse is at its best
numbers may be seen, and the song, clear and
sweet, and altogether unwarbler-like in character,
rings out from the higher sprays on every side.

" I wad na gie the Lintie's sang,
Sae merry o'er the broomy lea,
For a' the notes that ever rang
Fra a' the harps o' minstrelsy.

And certain is it that, backed by the distant murmur
of the sea, and accompanied by the chirping of
grasshoppers in the warm, dry grass, no other
voice so truly expresses the spirit of these wide open
spaces of cropped green turf and yellowing whin-
bushes as that of the Grey Linnet.

The Linnet is not a very early breeder, and May
has sometimes already advanced before the eggs
are laid. The nest is in the densest part of the
gorse-bushes and is often difiicult to approach,
for the prickly spines are sharp as needles, but
its position may be approximately inferred from the
fact that the cock bird usually elects to sing on an
upper bough in its near neighbourhood.

In captivity the Linnet is a sombre-hued bird,
for the brighter colours largely disappear on

BIRDS OF THE HEATH 291

moulting, but when, in the open, the deep chestnut-
brown of its wings, and the rich carmine on head
and breast are seen, contrasted with the green and
yellow of the gorse-spray upon which it perches,
it becomes at once clear that the adult male in
full spring attire almost equals the gayest-hued
finches in plumage even as it excels them in
song.

The changes of the tints on the cock Linnet's
breast are not easily followed. In my belief the
full carmine hue is not attained until the bird is
nesting in its second season, for males of a uniform
brown, probably hatched in the preceding spring,
are to be observed building in company with the
red-breasted forms. After attaining the full rosy
dyes it would appear that their brightness fades as
the birds grow older, merging first into orange
and at length into a coppery yellow. Transitions
of this character are certainly to be seen in caged
birds, the "copper" Linnets being thought to be
the best songsters, and although the changes are
doubtless accelerated by captivity, the process in
all likelihood exists in a modified form in Nature,
and may be held to account for the "lemon-,"
"saffron-" or "sulphur-breasted" Linnets which
are occasionally caught.

When the young are hatched, the parents collect
quantities of seeds which they disgorge upon the
edge of the nest, and the husks are thus softened
before they are offered to the nestlings.

Another familiar bird of the open spaces is the
Lesser Redpoll, the smallest of the British finches.

292 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

As in the case of the Grey Linnet, the cock Redpoll
has a rosy-tinted breast, and the birds have many
habits in common, but the difference between the
two species is none the less clearly marked. In
addition to their smaller size. Redpolls of both
sexes have a red cap, and may be distinguished
at once by the flecked brown of the back and
wings, the lighter under-surfaces and the black
throats.

In its choice of a nesting site the Redpoll does
not confine itself to the commons, although its
nest is occasionally found in the whins. It con-
stantly selects hawthorns, alders and hazels,
especially those which overhang streams, and the
snug little feather-lined nest is generally placed
nearly at the extremity of the bough. These
gentle, confiding little birds are erratic in their
distribution in England. As a breeding species
they are never very abundant in any one locality,
and the vast flocks which are seen on the heaths
and commons in the autumn are doubtlessly drawn
from very wide areas. Redpolls are especially fond
of the tansy, and where these tall-growing yellow-
flowers abound, as on the banks of railway-cuttings
or the slopes of disused quarries, many hundreds
may be seen together flitting about the herbage or
hanging from the stems.

At this season no bird falls a victim to the bird-
catcher more readily than the " chivy," as the bird
is called in Yorkshire from the resemblance of the
sound of the word to its call-note. Sometimes the
great clap-nets are employed as for the Grey
Linnets, when fifty to a hundred may be taken at

BIRDS OF THE HEATH 293

a single " draw/' but the commoner manner is by
means of " liming."

At some little distance from the feeding-ground
where small parties are constantly crossing, a
branch or small bush is erected on a wall or other
conspicuous spot. To every spray, short cleft pegs,
each with a hole bored at the upper end, are affixed.
The practised catcher then takes a quantity of bird-
lime between thumb and finger of the left hand,
and with a bundle of stiff rushes under his arm he,
with his right hand, draws each rapidly through the
lime and inserts it in the hole in the peg. Then
the call-birds in their tiny cages are withdrawn
from the knotted handkerchief, and the " set " is
complete. For a little while the decoys appear
languid and chirp only at intervals, but soon faint
notes are heard in the distance, and dark, undulat-
ing specks are seen in the sky. The "calls"
at once respond; their cries becoming louder and
filled with entreaty as the wild birds draw nearer.
At length the entire party droops down, often from
a great height, and alights upon the bush. Some of
their number fall instantly, the limed twigs being
at once detached from the pegs directly the wings
touch them, but others, having chanced upon a
more open space, rest quietly. If they turn to right
or left, however, some part of their plumage be-
comes attached, and they too disappear from the
bough. Should they evade the clinging rush and
flit again into the air, the efforts of the " calls "
are redoubled, and after hovering awhile, they
return to the fatal boughs and soon join their
comrades on the ground.

294 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

It constantly happens that from a considerable
flock no single bird escapes.

A second species of Redpoll, the Mealy, is also
included in the British list. This is a northern
form visiting this country in winter only, and is
larger and lighter in colour than the more familiar
bird.

The Brambling, too, is a migrant from the north.
In summer it may constantly be seen in Norway,
its jet-black head and chestnut breast conspicuous
as it flits about the mountain-ashes which surround
the little farmsteads. As autumn draws near, it
joins the Fieldfares and the Redwings to cross the
North Sea, and large flocks annually visit the
heaths and commons as well as the more remote
woodlands.

Here, too, comes the Twite or Mountain Linnet,
at once to be distinguished from the Grey Linnet
by its longer and slenderer form, more uniformly
brown plumage, and light-yellow bill. It usually
appears on the east coast in autumn only, and its
visits are more or less erratic, but on the moorlands
to the north it breeds annually, and its nest may be
looked for on rocky ledges amidst the deep heather.
Like the Redpoll it is easily decoyed, and shows
little of the Grey Linnet's wariness in evading the
snares of the bird-catcher.

Where the stream through the ravine joins the
sea the banks fall away, and upon the wide
declivities here, as well as upon the slopes and
hollows of the cliffs themselves, a wilderness of

^^■Mi^

BRAMBLINGS

BIRDS OF THE HEATH 297

bent-grass grows, interspersed with clusters of rank
thistles, coltsfoot and yellow-flowered tansv. To
this No-man's-land, many birds come. Here one
may see precisely as Tennyson did — -

" the thistle shake
When two grey Hnnets wrangle for the seed."

And here, too, on the smoother stretches may often
be noted the white, flickering tail of the Wheatear,
or the dark head of the Stonechat as it flits amidst
the bents.

But there is one visitor — growing rarer, alas —
which seems to be especially the bird of the thistles.
Sometimes on the tangled slopes one catches the
gleam of a yellow wing — -

" A fairy fan of golden spokes it seems ; "

and soon a party of Goldfinches may be made out
as they hang and flutter about the purple tufts.
Now a mimic conflict arises as two birds, with open
menacing bills, essay to rest upon a single plume.
Now one drops into the grass to follow a fallen
seed, or flies to a low rock, where the crimson-red
of head and throat banded by pure white, and the
harmony of brown, black and gold of the body-
pjumage, stand in clear contrast against the dull
grey hues of the stone. For a little while only they
remain, tearing the down of the thistles away in
white streaks; then, filling the air with faint, sweet
call-notes, and with quick beating of gold-lined
wings, they disappear over the distant angle of the
clift".

Although the Goldfinch is becoming less numer-

298 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

ous season by season, in many neighbourhoods at
any rate, its beautiful Httle nest, built in fruit-tree
or evergreen, is still to be found in most English
counties. On the East Yorkshire coast, flocks
amounting to hundreds still occur in November and
even later, the birds resting for a few days in the
wooded ravines and then disappearing.

About the alders and hazels which fringe the
stream, certain rarer visitors come at times in the
winter. Their appearance in little groups, their
constant activity and habit of hanging head-down-
wards might lead one at first to believe them to
be Titmice. But the sound of their distinctive call-
note, and a glimpse of their green- and black-
barred plumage soon make their identity clear.
Bred in the great fir woods in the extreme north
of Scotland, these colonies of Siskins would seem
to travel far afield. When one sees them in the
ravine they appear ever to be upon a journey,
traversing the tops of the trees, high and low alike,
and never remaining long in the same locality.

The nest of the Siskin is usually placed in high
trees near the extremity of the bough. The eggs
are of a bluish-white spotted with red, and are
hardly to be distinguished from those of the Gold-
finch.

The \A"heatear is the earliest of the summer
migrants to reach the shores of England. Often
on a wintry ^larch morning, even before the first
Sand-martin is seen, drowsily skirting the river-
banks, the Wheatear comes, a visible sign that,

BIRDS OF THE HEATH 301

sleet and snow notwithstanding, the summer is
really drawing near. It is no covert-loving bird.
On the contrary, it stands out bravely in the open
downs, flirting and expanding its conspicuously
white and black tail, and uttering a sharp " chack-
chack " as it flits from one slight eminence to
another. Its affection for wide open spaces is so
constant that, like the Skylark, it not only usually
refrains from alighting upon branch or spray, but
generally avoids the near neighbourhood of trees
altogether.

When the Wheatears arrive in their thousands on
the southern and eastern coasts, generally in the
morning, they pause for a little time for rest and
refreshment, then a pro23ortion of the great army
at once proceeds northwards, and in a few days
every county from Sussex to Caithness has its
contingent as the birds hark back to the widely-
separate haunts of their forefathers. Nothing,
perhaps, in avian history is more interesting than
the fidelity with which so many birds pass by long
ranges of apparently most happy resting-places,
and, guided either by experience or inherited
instinct, seek far-distant and barren patches of land
which they have come to regard as home. A
further matter of interest is suggested by the annual
arrival of so many Wheatears on the English coast.
It is frequently stated that if rare birds — the Blue-
throats, for example — were permitted to settle here
unmolested, they would in time become fairly
common species. The facts do not warrant this
conclusion. It is, of course, possible to stamp out
given races — the Great Skuas or the Reed Warblers,

302 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

for instance, whose habitat is strictly local — either
by constant persecution of the birds themselves, or
by the destruction of their haunts. But there is
no reason for believing that, however carefully
fostered it might be, the Bluethroat would be other
than an extremely rare bird. The woods and
coppices of the whole country are open to it, afford-
ing precisely the kind of hospitality it would seem
to need. But of certain types Nature does not
appear to provide an adequate supply. Where she
does, as in the case of the Wheatears, the power
of the species to resist systematic attack is most
marked. From time immemorial, Wheatears have
been slaughtered wholesale, and they were once
treated as a regular source of food-supply. Pennant,
w riting a century and a half ago, states that about
Eastbourne alone, 1840 dozens were snared annually.
Yet at no period has the Wheatear ceased to be a
common visitor to English heaths and fallows.

Vandalism is a thing properly to be denounced,
but its absence will never cause to flourish a species
which Nature has dealt out with a niggardly hand.

The nest of the Wheatear is made in rabbit-
holes, beneath a rock or wall, and sometimes in the
open, sheltered only by a clod of earth. The nest-
ing site is often discovered by the appearance of
the birds, which hang about the place, often vanish-
ing into the recess where the eggs are laid, and
again emerging to take up a conspicuous position
on rock or tussock near at hand. The photograph
shows a typical nesting-place.

The bird's habit of creeping into sheltered nooks
in the ground when any danger threatens overhead

BIRDS OF THE HEATH 305

—the passing of a Ha\vk or even of a cloud — renders
it an easy prey to the shepherds. A small oblong is
cut in the turf, and the sod is placed, grass down-
\vards across it. Within this chamber horse-hair
nooses are set. I have myself seen a Wheatear
take refuge beneath a large stone projecting from a
wall, and permit itself to be taken by hand.

The Stonechat has certain peculiarities which set
it apart from both its near relatives, the Whinchat
and the Wheatear. Although in other countries
which it frequents, it is usually known as a migrant,
it is resident in England throughout the year.
Again, though it breeds in every English county,
its distribution in each is extremely irregular, as,
for example, in Yorkshire, where a few favoured
spots only — generally gorse-strewn commons at
low elevations — are tenanted, whilst in others
which would appear to be equally suitable, the
bird is unknown. In Ireland, a country avoided
altogether by so many warblers, it is resident and
common.

In plumage the head, throat and back are of a
blackish hue, merging into reddish-brown and
relieved by a band of white on the neck and a con-
spicuous streak of white on the wings. The breast
and under-surfaces are of a rich bay shading into
yellowish-white.

The nest is made of coarse grass and a little moss,
lined with hair and feathers, and is usually found
in the tangled herbage amongst gorse-bushes or in
the lower part of the gorse itself. The position of
the nest may often be determined by the sight of
20

3o6 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

the birds, for the male, during the time that the
hen is sitting, constantly perches on the topmost
twig, from whence, ever and anon, it flies almost
perpendicularly into the air for a little way, utter-
ing the while its few musical notes, and returning
at once to its post.

The eggs are live to six in number, and are of a
greenish-blue streaked with red and brown.

The sight of this little warbler, with its black
head and bright rufous breast, appearing when all
its fellows have flown to sunnier lands, is a most
welcome addition to a wintry scene. On the sea-
cliffs about the ravine, when the desolate coast is
abandoned bv all save a wandering Herring-
gull, this little bird may often be seen perched
upon some stunted bush, or flitting amidst the
snow-wreathed bents on the declivities. At this
season it appears to court solitude, a single bird
only being usually seen.

Of the great warbler group two species — the
Grasshopper and the Dartford^ — may fitly be
described as birds of the heath and common.

In plumage as Avell as in habit, the Grasshopper
Warbler is one of the least conspicuous of birds.
Its head, back and wings are of a greenish-brown
mottled with a darker brown, the fine spots on the
head growing broader as they descend. The tail
is rounded and is faintly barred with brown. The
chin and under-surfaces are of a buffish-white, the
buff hue deepening on the upper breast, which is
again slightly flecked with brown.

The nest is usually placed in the dense tangle of

t.RASSHOPPER WARBLER

YOUXG GRASSHOPPER WARBLER

BIRDS OF THE HEATH 309

vegetation \vhich grows in neglected hedge-bottoms,
or in the recesses of whin-coverts. It is formed of
coarse grass and moss hned with finer stems, and
is hidden so deeply that the bird has to thread its
way through the rank herbage, often for several
feet, before the site can be reached. The position
of the nest can be discovered only by watching the
movements of the bird as she approaches or leaves,
and in Yarrell we have a description of the diffi-
culties to be encountered. The hen was seen
repeatedly to draw near the top of the whin-bush
and to descend through its branches to a deep,
narrow furrow below, overhung with prickly sprays
and grown over with thick coarse grass, matted
together year after year, to the height of about two
feet. This the observer was obliged to take away
piecemeal in order to come upon the nest.

Mr. Metcalfe also relates an incident illustrative of
the habits of this bird. Believing a nest to be hidden
in a certain field, he was beating the rank herbage
with a slender willow' wand when a Grasshopper
Warbler flew from a tussock. As it rose it seemed
to come in contact with the wand and fell to the
ground apparently dead. The touch was so slight,
however, that it seemed impossible the bird should
have been injured, so tearing aside the long grasses,
he replaced it on the nest. In a moment or two he
saw it furtively raise its head and peer out from the
screen, doubtless to see if the intruder had with-
drawn.

The eggs of the Grasshopper Warbler are from
five to seven in number, and are of a pinkish-white
ground colour spotted with reddish-brown.

310 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

This warbler is a summer visitor reaching Eng-
land towards the end of April and departing in
September. It occurs throughout the three king-
doms, but irregularly distributed, and is found
onlv in a few suitable localities in each county. On
the Continent it is also unequally distributed, being
fairly jDlentiful in some countries and practically
unknown in others.

Owing to its extreme reticence, the Grasshopper
Warbler is constantly overlooked, and if it were
not for its curious note one might live for years in
its most favoured haunts without becoming aware
of its existence. But as one wanders by the fen or
gorse-strewn waste, a small grasshopper-like chirp,
incessantly repeated, falls upon the ear; now-
sounding close at hand, and in a moment growing
faint as from a distance. The sound has so much
of the quality of an insect's cry that in places where
grasshoppers and mole-crickets abound it may
easily be passed by unheeded, and even when
suspicion is aroused one may look narrowly and
long before a glimpse of the bird, furtively moving
in the deeps of the thicket, can be obtained.

Gilbert White, writing to Pennant in 1768,
describes its movements as follows : — " Had I not
been a little acquainted with insects, and know
that the grasshopper kind is not yet hatched, I
should have hardly believed but that it had been a
Locusta whispering in the bushes. The country
people laugh when you tell them that it is the note
of a bird. It is a most artful creature, skulking in
the thickest part of the bush, and will sing at a
yard distant provided it be concealed. I was

BIRDS OF THE HEATH 311

obliged to get a person to go on the other side of
the hedge where it haunted, and then it would run
creeping like a mouse before us, for a hundred
yards together through the bottom of the thorns :
yet it would not come into fair sight, but in the
morning early, and when undisturbed, it sings on
tlie top of a twig, gaping and shivering with its
wings."

White appears to be the first English naturalist
to have determined this species; the older writers
confusing it with the Wood Wren, and, curiously
enough, in some cases with the Tree Pipit, a bird
with which it has little in common.

The Dartford \\^arbler is one of the few of its
race which regularlv braves the winter in these
islands. In England its nest is usually placed in
the heart of the densest whin-bushes, but in other
countries it is sometimes found in the heather. As
a species it is extremely local, being mainly con-
fined to counties south of the Thames.

In appearance the Dartford Warbler has certain
marked peculiarities which render it easy to be dis-
tinguished even when flying. Its short wings and
abnormallv long tail, amounting to almost one-half
of the bird's entire length (apart from the tail it is
one of the smallest British birds), combined with
the duskv hues of the upper plumage, at once set
it apart from the other warblers. Like the Grass-
hopper Warbler it is mouse-like in its movements,
and when alarmed, it prefers to hide in the nearest
thicket rather than to seek escape in flight. This
reluctance is so marked, that in common with the

312 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Robin, Hedge-sparrow and the A\"ren, this bird
may be literally hunted down, and at length, driven
from shelter to shelter, may be finally caught
uninjured. Many years ago ^Ir. Ellman stated in
the Zoologist that on three different occasions he
had run the Dartford Warbler down. This state-
ment may appear strange when one remembers how
easily most birds elude pursuit by simply springing
into the air and maintaining for a very few
moments, a sustained flight. But in the cases of the
other three species named, the birds may be chased
along thick treeless hedgerows, until at last, over-
come by weariness and fear, they creep into some
recess or hole in the bank, and so may be captured.
Wren-hunting in this fashion was once a recog-
nized custom in some localities in England on
Christmas Day. When no danger threatens, the
Dartford Warbler may be seen flitting restlessly
from twig to twig on the uppermost sprays of the
furze-covert, and in the pairing-time it indulges in
singular contortions, singing incessantly the while.
The song, which is hurried and harsh, is also
uttered, at times, when the bird is on the wing.

BIRDS OF THE AIOORLAND

The little fenceless road winds like a white ribbon
across the great stretches of heather. A belt of
short grass skirts it on either side, and here, two or
three mountain sheep are feeding, whilst others on
the lower hillside are browsing in green dells, half
hidden by the tall whins and bracken. In the far
distance the eye reaches the long, low outlines of the
hills. It is questionable if England can show finer
examples of Nature's freehand than may be seen in
these Yorkshire dales. With the horizon for a
canvas, the lines are drawn in firm yet delicate
curves, and for unbroken miles stand clear against
the sky.

Standing on this slight elevation, the vast moor-
laad extends on every hand, the undulating surfaces
of green and purple, marred here and there by black-
ened tracts where the burner has been at work, but
growing freshly green again in the hollows where
the young bracken springs amidst the rocks. On
the ridges of the nearer hills, the butts can be
made out, ranged at equal distances and carefully
planned to intercept the flight of the oncoming
Grouse.

To the right, on the summit of the slope strewn
with great grey boulders, lines of fir trees rise,
standing as storm-beaten travellers might with their

314 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

backs to the quarter from Avhich the prevaiUng wind
comes, and with foHage stretching out hke the flame
of a candle suddenly arrested. Here, too, the bents
and the whin-bushes all turn from the west, the line
of their growth permanently deflected by the blast.
Beyond the fir trees the ravine dips, and here the
little stream runs its rocky course through the
sheltering bracken, resting now and then in dark
pools to which the Dipper comes at times from the
river in the valley.

As one waits, there is little sign of life— a few
butterflies (meadow-browns) flit about the bracken
and grassy spaces, dropping into the herbage after
each uncertain flight, like dead leaves stirred by the
wind, and the crop-crop of the sheep behind us
and the murmur of the burn in the distance, are,
for the while, the only sounds to be heard. But
as one smokes restfully, surveying the whole peace-
ful scene, certain birds which have been near to us
all the while, begin to make their presence known.
A Aleadow Pipit flits from the grass and alights
upon a rock where, hardly to be distinguished from
the grey stone on which it rests, it utters its faint
intermittent notes. Then a Wren draws near,
moving busily from jDoint to point. When it
reaches the rough stone wall which guards the fir
wood, it pursues its investigations in every cranny,
creeping into the interstices and reappearing again,
with sudden bending of breast and jerk of tail.

Lower, the ravine widens, and the ground be-
comes free of heather and bracken. Here, on the
grassy expanse, the Green Plovers find a congenial
haunt, and many may now be seen running amidst

BIRDS OF THE MOORLAND 317

the rough tussocks or wheeling overhead uttering
their wailing cry. It has often been observed that
some birds have a peculiarly human quality in their
note. I think this applies strongly to the cry of
the Green Plover, especially when her eggs are
in jeopardy. Certainlv the cry seems to embody
both an entreaty and a threat. That the bird is
aware of the danger which menaces her young
and of the best means to avert it, is clear. When
she rises from her eggs or the place where her nest-
lings are concealed, she steals away without a
sound. It is onlv when one draws nearer that
she grows excited, flying close to the intruder and
protesting bitterlv against his presence.

But the Meadow Pipit and the Green Plover are
birds of the field, and the Wren is a citizen of the
world. Of the true heather-dwellers, the birds
which build exclusively in its recesses and which
cling to it as the Dipper cleaves to the streams, the
Red Grouse is typical.

When one recalls a certain October day, when
the beaters with their fluttering flags were abroad,
and the hillsides were alive with beating wings,
the moor to-day seems strangely deserted. But in
the cover of the deeper heather, vast numbers of
Grouse are hidden. In the midday heat they rest in
seclusion, but as the sun declines, they may be seen
in all directions, the dark forms feeding in little
groups on the belts of the younger heath, now-
growing freshly green in marked contrast with the
black, charred tracts of last season's burning.

In the early morning, too, just when night

3i8 ENGLISH BIRO LIFE

merges into day, the Red Grouse is alert. As one
listens in the stillness of the dawn, a faint metallic
note, uttered several times in succession, reaches
the ear; then there is a long pause, and the sounds
are repeated. The call-note of the hen Grouse is
rarely heard except at daybreak, and is so slight and
monotonous that it may easily pass unnoticed. But
it is none the less a challenge, and soon, from the dis-
tant slope, comes the masterful reply — " Guer-rr-rr,
goback, goback, goback," as the old cock rises into
the air and brags down again into the darkened
heather. In a moment more in response to the
reiterated call, his black form hurtles across the
moor as he hastens to rejoin his mate.

The dalesmen learn to imitate the note of the hen
Grouse with surprising accuracy, and the bold,
reckless approach of the cock renders him an easy
prey to the concealed gunner.

As the feeding Grouse move in little groups, they
appear in the distance to be mere grey blots on the
carpet of green. But the field-glasses bring them
nearly to one's side, and one realizes, perhaps
for the first time, what a singularly handsome
bird the cock Grouse in full breeding plumage,
really is.

As one watches, he flies from the heath to the
summit of a low grey boulder. Here he stands
proudly with the duller hued hens grouped about
him, and as he raises his head, the crescentic patch
of bright vermilion above the eye stands out
clearly; one can see every golden and black bar on
his back and breast, and even the delicate ermine-
like whiteness of his feet. Seen in his home here on

BIRDS OF THE MOORLAND 319

the boulder, its base hidden by the branching fronds
of the bracken, and backed by the miles of glowing
heather, the Red Grouse forms a picture not easily
to be forgotten.

For the sportsman, the flight of game-birds and
wildfowl is a matter of constant note ; indeed, it is
part of his occupation to be able to distinguish one
bird from another at great distances. The naturalist
carries such observation still further. Few birds of
different genera fly exactly alike. Even in species
so nearly allied as the Partridge and the Grouse there
is a difference in the beating of the wings which
the trained eye will detect at once although the bird
may be far away. When the difTerence in the shape
of wing is more marked, discrimination is easier.
No one, for example, could mistake the flight of the
Green Plover for that of any of its congeners. The
rounded appearance of the wing as the Peewit wdieels
and tumbles over the pointer's head, is a matter of
common observation, but perhaps the most striking
peculiarity in the flight of this bird is seen when
a large flock is observed at a distance. A curious
palpitating motion seems to pervade the entire body
which has no relation to the line of flight. Com-
pare this with the steady forward movement of a
flock of Golden Plover or a homeward-bound party
of Rooks, or (so far as my knowledge goes) with
that of anv great congregation of birds which can
be seen in a mass in the sky. An individual
peculiaritv in the Green Plover's manner of flight
will be recognized at once. That birds dift'er
immensely in wdng-power goes without saying.
The Gr(juse and others of his tribe may attain great

320 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

speed, but these appear to use their wings only to
move from place to place. They never gambol in
the air; they indulge in no turnings and gyrations
from mere love of flying. When they spring from
the heather, they can only rise by beating the air
with immense rapidity, and they alight heavily, the
dowuAvard stretched feet striking the ground first,
when they run for several yards to exhaust the
impetus of their descent. Once fairlv in flight, how-
ever, they proceed by a series of rapid wing-beats,
followed by long gliding movements. When
gliding (unlike the swallows and the hawks), thev
appear to have no power to rise, the line of their
fight being horizontal, or, more usually, tending
downwards.

Of the four British members of the Grouse family,
the Capercaillie, the Ptarmigan and the Black and
Red Grouse, the first appears to have become
extinct in these islands a century or more ago, and
now owes its existence as a British bird to the fact
of its reintroduction from Sweden in 1837. It is
by far the largest of its race, and differs from its
congeners inasmuch as in place of the open moor-
land or mountain top, it finds a home in the deepest
pine forests.

It is satisfactory to learn that, after many
failures to re-establish this interesting species in
its ancestral haunts in Scotland, it appears now to
be firmly settled, its range having extended from
Perthshire to Loch Lomond, East Stirlingshire and
Fife.

BIRDS OF THE MOORLAND 321

The Ptarmigan — the smallest of the British
Grouse — is found in Great Britain only on the
summits of the loftiest Scotch mountains, princi-
pally in Ross and Sutherland. Here its delicately
pencilled grey and white plumage blends so com-
pletely with the lichen-covered rocks and mossy
boulders amidst which it lives, that it is well-nigh
indistinguishable from them even at a few yards'
distance.

This species is interesting by reason of its
gradual change in colouring as the seasons
advance, the new feathers, at every stage, falling
into perfect correspondence with the changing hues
of the rock and hill, until at length, the grey
pencillings merge into pure white in completest
harmony with the snow-covered summits.

The Blackcock is the nearest akin to the Red
Grouse, but it differs from it in many of its habits.
In the first place, in common with the Capercaillie,
it is polygamous. In the pairing season the males
assemble before daybreak to utter a succession of
loud notes, which call the females together. At
these gatherings the cocks move to and fro with
trailing wings and outspread tails, performing
extraordinary antics, and the fiercest battles ensue,
each victor at length withdrawing, accompanied by
his following of hens.

Again, differing from the Red Grouse, the Black-
cock is not strictly a moorland bird. Although
cover is not essential to its well-being, it usually
resorts to swampy, rush-grown places where
21

322 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

thickets of birch and willow grow freely, its general
habitat bearing resemblance to that of its Scan-
dinavian relative, the Willow Grouse.

The Red Grouse, on the other hand, never deserts
the heather even for a day, except in circumstances
of the severest stress. In unusually hard winters,
when the moors are covered with frozen snow, it
occasionally wanders abroad, and may even depart
so far from its natural habit as to be seen upon
the branches of the mountain ash feeding upon the
berries ; but at the first opportunity it never fails
to return to its loved heath. Even when scared
from some narrow belt of moor by the advancing
beaters, and forced to make a wide detour across
the cultivated valley, the driven pack seek no rest
until heather be found again, although, as they well
know, it lies within the very heart of the danger
zone.

The natural history of the Red Grouse is of
peculiar interest. It is essentially British, and is
indigenous to no other country. The Willow
Grouse ranges throughout the entire continents of
Europe, Asia and North America, and it is believed
that both this species and the Red Grouse have
sprung from a common stock. But our bird, iso-
lated for unknown ages in a temperate clime and
living amidst the most favourable conditions, has
taken on qualities which at once set it apart from
the commoner and more widely-spread form. If
it has lost the power of turning white in winter
with the disappearance of the need of assimilation,
it has drawn from the British heather, a rang«

BIRDS OF THE MOORLAND 323

of virtues which renders it the finest game-bird in
the world.

Many attempts have been made to accHmatize the
Red Grouse in other countries. Years ago it was
introduced to Southern Sweden in districts corre-
sponding in latitude with Aberdeen, and more
recently large numbers were set free in the heather-
lands of Belgium and Germany. These efforts,
we are told, have been attended with some success,
but it is still questionable whether the species will
ever take root in lands other than those of its own
choice. Even within the limits of the British
Islands there are many localities which appear
altogether suited to its habits, but where, none the
less, all attempts at its establishment have failed.
The Red Grouse thrives in Lewis, Harris, North
and South L^ist, and even on the smaller islands
of the Hebridean group ; in the Orkneys, too,
remarkably fine birds are produced. But in the not
far distant Shetlands, islands possessing, it w'ould
seem, every advantage which the grouse naturally
seeks, it is not indigenous, and although the birds,
when introduced, appear to nest freely, the broods
gradually diminish, and at length finally disappear.

The Red Grouse breeds very early; indeed, in
January the great packs appear to break up, and
isolated pairs may be seen together. It is said
that young birds almost able to fly have been found
in March. The nest is generally hidden in the
heather, although by no means always in the
densest tracts, and is formed of grass and stems of
ling, lined wath a few feathers. The eggs are
deeply suffused and blotched with umber-browm

324 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

upon a reddish-white ground, and are from eight
to twelve or fifteen in number. The young,
delicate little balls of golden fluff, barred with
brown, leave the nest directly they escape from the
shell, gathering about the feet of the hen as she
leads them to the feeding ground, and brooding
beneath her wings at night.

Throughout the summer and in the earlier part
of autumn these family parties keep together, but
tow^ards the end of September they combine with
others to form vast packs. When packed, the
Grouse become extremely vigilant, rising far be-
yond the range of the guns, and it is to this habit
that the modern svstem of driving is largely due.
It may be noted here that the practice of packing
is more commonly adopted by Grouse which exist
on the broader and more level tracts of heather :
those to be found in Yorkshire, for example. In
many other localities — in the west of Scotland par-
ticularly— where the moorlands are mountainous
and diversified by deep heathery corries and pre-
cipitous ascents, the Grouse appear to remain in the
original broods throughout the whole of the winter.

Although the Red Grouse is essentially a home-
loving bird, and has no trace of the migratory
instinct which leads so many of the feathered races
to cross the seas, the packs, nevertheless, often
make considerable excursions from their native
moors to visit those at a distance. Mr. Eagle
Clarke states (Yorkshire Vertehrata) that towards
the end of October in every year, there is a mi-
gration of packs of Grouse from the Duke of
Cleveland's moors in Upper Teesdale to Alston in

BIRDS OF THE MOORLAND 327

Cumberland (a distance of twenty miles), where
they remain until the end of the season, and then
return to their own county.

The Kettlesing moors, near Harrogate, are also
visited annually by packs of migrant Grouse which
differ altogether in type from the birds bred in the
locality. The strangers, indeed, can be recognized
at once, for (as in the case of the Alston birds)
the packs appear to consist entirely of hens, and
the birds are smaller and of a light golden hue,
differing conspicuously from those bred on the vast
heather-tracts for many miles around.

As winter draws near the plumage of the Red
Grouse becomes very thick and warm, the feathers
" doubling " — that is, two plumes are found grow-
ing from each quill, the outer being the ordinary
coloured feather, and the inner lighter in hue and
of a soft, downy texture.

As the eye rests on the rocky slope of the hill
below the fir trees, another moorland bird may be
made out. It flies swiftly from point to point,
alighting with uplifted wings upon some tussock or
heathery brae, and its clear, plaintive call-note,
" plu-e plu-e," falls sweetly on the ear. The cry of
the Golden Plover can never be mistaken, and as
it stands on the tussock, the variegated golden
yellow of the wings and the deep black of the breast
— the mark of the full breeding plumage — may be
easily distinguished. This change from the dull
winter garb of greyish white to conspicuous black
in spring is characteristic of the Grey Plover as
w^ell, and applies in a lesser degree to certain of the

328 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

females. That this is not always the case is seen
from the photograph, wherein the sitting hen is
shown to be but slightly spotted on the breast.

In autumn the Golden Plovers which have been
bred on the moors congregate in large flocks and
descend to the sea-coasts. At this period many
migrate, and vast numbers in lines extending for
several miles, have been seen passing over Spurn
Point on the east coast.

In common with the Golden Plover, the Curlew
visits these heatherv dales in the nesting season, de-
parting again to the mud-flats and saltings as winter
draws near. In the early morning its wild cry may
be heard as it rises from some rush-grown morass
far out on the moor. Ever the wariest of birds, it
flies in wide circles around the intruder, uttering its
mournful notes, but rarely permitting itself to
approach within gun-shot. Often when fishing the
hill-lochs in Sutherland, I have watched it stand-
ing upon some distant eminence, its brown barred
form and long curved bill silhouetted against the
sky; here it would remain for long spaces of time,
sometimes wandering a little distance away and
bending to pick sometiiing from the heather, but
always returning to the coign of vantage wherefrom
its vigilant eye could follow the disturber of its
haunts.

In the ravine behind the fir trees, where. the little
stream takes its way amidst the boulders and
bracken, a dark bird, resembling a blackbird, save
for the white crescent upon its breast, may be

.^^-j

(^''}'^: _

\

CimLEW's NEST AND EGGS

CURLEW ON NEST

BIRDS OF THE MOORLAND 331

seen springing from the tangled herbage ahiiost at
one's feet. It flies for a Httle way and then ahghts
abruptly on a flat rock, moving restlessly to and
fro, uttering its quick alarm note — -" tac-tac-tac,
tac-tac-tac, " many times repeated. As one stoops to
examine the recesses, it flies nearer, sometimes
within a few feet, still protesting in rapid querulous
cries. jMoving the bracken aside, we come upon
the nest on a low rocky ledge overgrown by
heather, the eggs still warm from the contact with
the bird's breast.

The Ring Ouzel is a migratory thrush, but,
differing from the Fieldfare and Redwing, it visits
England only in summer. There appear to be
two forms of this species — a darker and a lighter —
the darker, of which the British bird is a type, in-
habiting the more northerly regions. In its habitat
the Ring Ouzel dift'ers from all the other thrushes.
In place of orchards, fields and woodlands it fre-
quents wild and uncultivated tracts, especially the
moorlands, and here its low piping note may be
heard as it rests upon some grey rock or heather-
clad brae. The nest is usually placed upon some
bank or ledge on the rocks sheltered by tall-grow-
ing bracken or heather, or in the recesses of the
lower crags. The photograph may he taken as a
typical Yorkshire nesting site.

Except on migration the Ring Ouzel is not gre-
garious, and it is unusual for many to be seen
together in one locality. It is not a branch-loving
bird, preferring a rock or ling-covered summit for
a perching place, rarely, in my experience, ascend-
ing to the higher trees. Indeed, a Ring Ouzel

332 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

which I kept for some time in an aviary, never
appeared to ahght upon the boughs at all, choosing
mainly a long shelf near the window, to which it
invariablv returned after its short excursions to the
ground.

^^mm

COCK RING OUZEL FEEDING YOUNG

RING OUZEL ON NEST

BIRDS OF THE RIVER

Seen from the bridge, the river is fretted with
jutting rocks, but there are cahiier reaches beyond,
and the Avillow-grown island in mid-stream, where
the yellow gleam of primroses may be caught,
affords a constant resting-place for the eye.

Below the island the water is fairly deep, but it
grows shallower as we ascend, and the quickened
tide of the two streams running on either side, gives
a succession of likely casts.

Now a Sandpiper passes, flying low, and alights
with 'jerking tail and nodding head, upon a mossy
ledge of rock. It runs daintily, often stooping to
take some imperceptible fly from the water, and
at length flies, piping, to the shingle a few yards
away.

It is a slim, snipe-like creature, silvery white
beneath, with back and wings delicately marbled
in greenish-brown and black. It never appears
to rest for more than a moment at a time, running
swiftly amidst the shingle, or suddenly making a
short excursion over the river, flying with quivering
cry close to the water, and usually turning again
and alighting at no great distance from its first
point of departure.

At the edge of the shingle away from the stream
the low bank beneath the willows is covered with

33S

S36 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

broad-leafed plants and high grass. Sometimes
in later May, a Sandpiper flits from this spot quite
silently, and instead of seeking a resting-place upon
the nearest rock, holds a straight course up-stream
and disappears beyond the curve. This is so
unlike its usual manner that attention is at once
drawn to the place. The nest is not easy to dis-
cover, vet, when it is at length seen, one wonders
that it should so long have escaped observation.
It is barely concealed : a slight structure of dried
grass ; and it is only when the eye rests steadily
upon it that it is seen to differ from the many stray
wisps of stream tangle which lie bleaching around.
When the young- — tiny balls of mottled grey
which match the variegated hues of the shingle to
a marvel — are abroad, the demeanour of the parent
bird changes. She is seen at once to be piteously
concerned for the welfare of her little ones. Not
only does she flit anxiously from stone to stone
about the place where they are concealed, but she
will perch upon railings or on the branches of trees
close to the intruder, piping incessantly. If the
young are hard pressed, they take readily to the
water, where they swim and dive freely long before
thev can flv. The old birds, also, are expert swim-
mers and divers. If pursued by a Hawk, it is said
that thev will drop into the river without hesitation
and instantly disappear. In my experience, how-
ever, they never use this power except in times of
stress.

Above the line of the willows, the river takes its
course through a hanging wood, and wading up-

22

BIRDS OF THE RIVER 339

stream one finds one's self at length in a tunnel
of overarching greenery. Very pleasant it is to
wander with an eight-foot rod along this mossy,
murmuring thoroughfare — there is no other track
through the trees which are massed on the sides of
the ravine on either hand — and to escape the sun
which is turning the lower reaches into unfishable
silver. It is needful to wade deep, for one must take
the water, shallows and pools alike, as it comes, and
so avoid the need of landing — a disastrous thing to
net and fly-cast — and of forcing a passage through
the interminable tangle of bough and leaf.

The river is broken here into still pools and rest-
less rippling flats. By the reef of moss-grown rocks,
it appears to wait and to gather strength ; then
it curves and rushes beneath outstretching boughs
which touch its current, soon to spread itself out so
thinly that even the pebbles break its course, and
it seems incapable of hiding any fish greater than a
minnow. On the right is a steep bank overhanging
a foaming little torrent. At the top of this bank,
an ancient oak stands with deep rifts and caverns
in its once mighty trunk. The bank has been worn
down by the stress of many spates, exposing the
roots, which now form a tangled mass projecting
over the water. As one waits beneath the opposite
bank screened by the leaves, a sudden quick cry
comes, and a streak of living blue flashes down
the stream. Now the Kingfisher, in its garb of
sapphire, emerald and ruddy gold, alights abruptly
upon the outstretched roots beneath the oak, pauses
for a moment, then turns and disappears within a
hole.

340 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

This tunnel, usually excavated by the bird itself,
slopes slightly upwards and extends into the bank
for about two feet. At the upper extremity a small
cavity is hollowed, and here, upon a mass of fishes'
bones, disgorged by the bird, the round, rosily-
white eggs, seven in number, are laid. As in the
case of the Sand Martin, the shells are translucent,
and when the yolks are extracted, the faintly rosy
hue disappears. The debris of bones is said at times
to be worked by the sitting bird into the form of a
cup, and that, by reason of certain secretions and
the dampness of the soil, the particles cohere, form-
ing a smooth rounded structure which may be with-
drawn from the cavity intact. In most cases, how^-
ever, I think the bones merely form a loose bed, and
are often so thinly distributed that the eggs rest
upon the bare soil. When the young are able to
fly, they may be seen perched in a line upon some
overhanging bough, giving a clamorous welcome
to the old birds as they come bearing the food in
the shape of small fish or aquatic insects.

The accompanying photographs, which show the
Kingfisher during incubation, and the young in
different stages of development, were the result of
no small amount of ingenuity and patience. The
bank above the nest was partly cut away and the
old bird, at length, permitted a view of herself to be
taken. The displaced portion of the bank was then
carefully restored, and subsequently the cavity was
exposed again and again as fresh pictures were
required. The remarkable feature in this case is
that a bird, so wary as the Kingfisher is known to
be, did not desert at the first assault upon her home.

BIRDS OF THE RIVER 345

The Kingfisher, akhough it invariably feeds
about the water, often travels far afield in search
of a breeding site. INIany instances are given of
nests found in the banks of gravel or chalk pits
a mile or more from the river which forms its
constant haunt.

As the angler rests in the green gloom of the
densely overshadowing trees, surrounded by the
swirling current, the shyest birds cease to treat him
as an alien. Thus the Kingfisher constantly alights
on the dead bough which droops over the stream
barely a dozen paces away. It remains quite mo-
tionless, with head depressed, watching the water.
Suddenly it drops like a flash of blue light, sheer
into the tide. The movement is so quick that the
bird can hardly be said to disappear, for in a
moment more, it is seen winging its way to the
higher bank with a tiny fish in its bill. If it can
be followed it will be seen to strike its prey sharply
against some rock or branch, and then, with a
dexterous twist in the air, to seize and swallow it
headforemost.

Although the Kingfisher is still to be found on
most English streams the constant persecution to
which it is subject tells seriously upon its numbers.
Its habit of darting like an arrow beneath low
bridges renders it liable to almost certain destruc-
tion, for an invisible net drawn across the open
space beneath, will intercept the passage of every
bird in the locality. This practice, once common
in Yorkshire, has been fortunately put an end to;
most of the Kingfisher's haunts being strictly pre-
served in the interests of the trout, and the presence

346 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

of a loafer with nets about the fishing-ground being
sternly discouraged by the river-watcher. At the
same time Kingfishers are still ruthlessly shot down
in the winter, and even in the most favoured districts
one or two birds at the most are alone to be met
with.

A second member of this race — the Belted King-
fisher— is accounted a British bird. It is a North
American species, and its inclusion rests on one or
two casual occurrences in Ireland.

The Dipper — Water-ouzel, Water-Colley and
Water-crow, as it is variously named — builds
its large dome-shaped nest, often drenched with
the spray of cascade or waterfall, upon some
mossy rock, bank or buttress of bridge, always
in closest proximity to the rapid stream which
the bird never deserts. Indeed, so great is its
affection for the river, that a nest is rarely found
which is not overhanging or entirely surrounded
w^ith running water. Even if the bird is forcibly
driven aside, it makes the briefest detour across the
angle of the meadow, returning to the stream which
it loves without the least possible delay. The Dip-
per is with great difficulty led to forsake the nest
which it has laboured so hard to build. Even if its
eggs be taken time after time, it will still continue
to lay.

Throughout Great Britain, wherever trout-
streams exist, except in some few localities — ^the
East Riding of York, for example — the Dipper is
usually to be found resting on the shingly bank
beneath the willows or flitting from stone to stone.

BIRDS OF THE RIVER 351

Although as a race it is set far apart from the com-
mon Wren, the two are, in many respects, curiously
ahke. They differ, of course, in size and colouring,
but in characteristic movements, mode of flight and
even of nest-building, they appear to be animated
bv a common spirit, and in shape they are almost
identical. Let any one watch a Wren as it takes
its wav along some streamlet — now moving on a
rockv ledge, pausing occasionally with jerk of tail
and bowing movement of head and breast — now flit-
ting with a little cry to some mossy stone in mid-
stream, now pausing contentedly amid the cataracts
to utter, even in mid-winter, its small chirping song
— and the resemblance between the two birds will be
seen at once. The title of Water-wren would be at
least more appropriate to the Dipper than that of
Water-crow, a bird with which our friend of the
riverside has nothing in common.

But in one respect the Dipper difi'ers essentially
from the Wren and, indeed, from all other birds.
Although it is not web-footed and does not swim
upon the surface, it is none the less truly aquatic.
In seeking for food, which consists largely of
water-beetles and the larv^ of various insects, it
has a method which is entirely its own. From
some shelving rock or bank it w^alks gently into
the shallow water until at length it is entirely
submerged. Now, in favourable circumstances, it
may be seen literally flying under water, its wings
extended to the full, busily engaged in picking up
its minute prey from the weedy nooks and interstices
of the pebbles. It travels to no great distance, often
pausing at a fruitful feeding spot, where, with down-

352 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

ward pressed head, it holds itself in position by a
rapid upward movement of wings and legs. In a
few moments more its white breast appears unosten-
tatiously above the surface, w-hen it regains its place
on the stone, soon flitting down the river-bed to
select a new starting-place.

In its use of the wings beneath the water it
follows the habits of the Puf^ns and Guillemots.
The Cormorant, on the other hand, progresses
by strong backward sweeps of the webbed feet
alone.

The confidence of the Dipper is easily gained.
Often w^hen fishing on some secluded reach of a
Yorkshire river, it has been my companion for a
whole day, sometimes flying far down the stream
and then returning to alight on the extreme end'
of the rocky ledge, or to utter its small song for
many minutes together, as it rested on a stone
beneath the tangled oak-roots, w-ithin easy reach
of my rod.

It has been said that the Dipper feeds upon the
ova of fish. This is now conclusively proved to be
untrue. By w^aging constant war upon the water-
beetles and other insects known to be destructive to
the spawning-beds, it is the best guardian a fishery
can possess.

The continental range of the Dipper is a some-
what moot point in ornithology. Doubt has been
expressed as to whether the form which is dis-
tributed more or less irregularly throughout the
Continent is always identical with the British race.
The suggestion has been put forward that a second

DIPPER

23

BIRDS OF THE RIVER 355

and even a third species should be admitted, this
view being based mainly on the fact that, in some
localities, Dippers are found lacking the chestnut
band on the breast. But this black-breasted form,
which also at times occurs in England, is not
generally held to constitute a separate species.

Of the five species of Wagtail included in the
British list three only may be regarded as familiar.
The two rarer birds^the Blue-headed and the
White — were for a long time regarded as mere
Continental modifications (even if the differences
were observed at all) of the Yellow and the Pied
respectively. They are now admitted to be of
separate species, and the distinctions can easily be
recognized on examination. The Blue-headed Wag-
tail may be known at once by the bluish-grey hue of
the head and the white eye-streaks, as compared
with the pale-olive head with yellow eye-streaks of
the Yellow form, and the White may be dis-
tinguished by its ashen-grey back in marked con-
trast with the blacker plumes of our own Pied
variety.

Two of the British Wagtails — the Pied and the
Grey — may be properly accounted birds of the
river, although the former is by no means exclu-
sively so. Still, one so rarely spends a day on a
trout-stream without seeing one or other of these
beautiful birds running swiftly amidst the shingle
or alighting upon the partly submerged stones, that
one comes to regard them as an integral part of the
scenery.

356 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

The Pied Wagtail is generally known, not only
for its sharply-contrasted black and white plumage,
but also for the singular grace and daintiness of
its movements. It is essentially a bird of open
spaces, shunning the remoter woodlands, and is
constantly seen about the farmsteads, where it
droops down from the roof of the barn, its sweet call-
note, " chiz-zic, chiz-zic," chiming with the rise and
fall in its flight, to alight upon the cobble-stones,
when, with nodding head and swaying tail, it runs
cheerily hither and thither, snapping up minute flies
almost at one's feet. Sometimes it will spring into
the air and overtake its prev on the wing, and
wherever water is to be found, the Pied Wagtail
is at home. At the pond-side, or by the little
stream which crosses the lane below the village,
the slender, graceful form appears, tripping daintily
on the edge, or wading in the shallower reaches in
pursuit of the smaller aquatic insects.

Yarrell states that the Pied Wagtail seldom
perches on a tree, but this opinion can hardly
be borne out. Although it may rarely be seen
amidst the denser foliage, a dead bough on oak or
ash is a constant resting-place, and in autumn,
when numbers gather together, they may be found
roosting night by night in the taller willows. I
remember a small island overgrown with ash-trees in
the centre of a pond which was a regular resort for
the Wagtails, and hither in the late afternoon, they
would come flying in from all directions to sleep
amidst the upper branches.

The Wagtails, with the exception of the IMeadow
Pipits, are the smallest birds that walk, and the

PIED WAGTAIL FEEDING YOUNG

BIRDS OF THE RIVER 359

swiftness of their movements is at once noticeable.
In their more extended flights, too, their mode of
progression is different and more airily light than
that of most of the smaller birds. It consists of a
series of long undulations, the bird rising into the
air and drooping again with closed wings in a
succession of delicate curves.

The Wagtails are strictly insectivorous, and may
be classed with the least harmful as well as the most
beautiful of British birds.

Although the Pied Wagtail is resident in the
three kingdoms, considerable seasonal movements
occur within the British Isles, and numbers cross
the English Channel in autumn, returning in
spring. On the Continent the British type appears
to be largely confined to countries in the extreme
west, its place in other latitudes being taken by a
greyer form.

The Grey Wagtail is so strikingly handsome a
bird that one can only wonder how its sober and
inadequate title came to be applied to it. Indeed,
with the exception of the Kingfisher, the plumage
of few British birds is so varied and beautiful.

This species is not often seen about the village or
farmstead, and might appropriately be named the
W^ater Wagtail, a term usually applied to the Pied,
for it is certainly the most consistently aquatic of its
race. Indeed, it seems to avoid all prosaic surround-
ings, and would appear to select the most romantic
glades by the river, where its slight, graceful form
and delicate yellow and ashen-grey plumage, con-

-,6o ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

trasted ^vith mossy rocks and gliding streams, may
be seen to the truest advantage.

I remember well a loch amidst the Sutherland
hills, where the waters suddenly descended from an
immense height into a dark ravine. In the deeps
below, rising sheer from the foam, was a slender
pinnacle of rock, and upon its narrow summit,
vegetation had taken a precarious hold to form a tiny
green oasis in a wilderness of black frowning cliff
and leaping spray. As one gazed from the heathery
ledges above, a Grey Wagtail, a mere streak of
saffron-yellow, flitted across the abyss, and rising,
alighted upon the little spot of green. There it
remained, with gently fanning tail, within a few
feet of the cataract, its small voice drowned in the
ceaseless roar, the single living thing, beautiful
and fearless, in the whole scene of desolation.

SWALLOWS

To the toiler in waders the channel of the river
is a rocky and difficult track with abounding pit-
falls. Seen from the grassy, restful bank, it is a
broad pathway of glass, and many wayfarers pass
up and down as men might follow a road. For the
Swallows, the course of a stream, free from even
the trifling obstruction of tree or hedge, is a verit-
able highway. Hither they come from their nest-
ing places many miles away, to join the Martins in
ceaseless evolutions. Now, one in the pride of its
arrow-like flight passes beneath the very arch of the
rod; its narrow wings and forked tail so com-
pressed that it pierces the air like a sharpened
point; now in mid-career, the tail suddenly droops
and broadens, and setting impetus at naught, the
bird turns at right angles to snap an invisible
fly. As a piece of aerial mechanism the Swallow
is, perhaps, unequalled by any British bird, not
excepting the Swift. Its power is shown not in
mere speed, but in the dexterity with which it
checks the most headlong flight, and in the ease
with which it turns. The Martins, with their
shorter wings and tail, turn as a skater might, in
a perceptible curve. The conformation of the tail
is the secret of the Swallow's flight. It is, in effect,
a third wing. Drawn together, and with long

363

364 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

slender filaments stretching behind, it offers no
resistance to the air, and aids in shaping the course ;
suddenly depressed (the Swallow depresses it with
the swiftness of light) and broadened to its utter-
most, it becomes a brake, which, aided by a backing
movement of the wings, checks the flight as if by
magic. Many birds have this faculty in a greater
or less degree. The ^Martins and the Swifts use
it constantly, and in mere wing-force the Swift
excels. But in the control of flight, in the sudden
check and the instantaneous turn, the Swallow
stands easily first.

Water has an unfailing charm for the Swallow
tribe ; the Swift alone is comparatively careless of
it. This, it may be, proves him the alien which
science has declared him to be. ^lost faithful of
all, the Sand Martin loves the running stream, and
seeks his habitation on its very banks. Sitting
here in the shade of the hawthorns, with the river
swirling at one's feet, the eye wanders to the droop-
ing willows on the opposite side, amidst which a
Sedge Warbler " chur-r-r-s " and "cheeps," and
following these down-stream, reaches a sandy bank.
It is about three feet high and perforated with
holes. Now a tiny sand-coloured bird flits to the
bank, hangs for a moment to the side, then dis-
appears in the tunnel. It is his home; probably
he was born there. All through our winter days,
beneath the burning light of an African sun, the
little Sand Martin has had this nook in his mind,
and now, with the beat of the South Atlantic in his
ear, he is back by the ripple of his old river.

The tunnel in which the bird disappeared is about

SWALLOWS 367

two feet deep, bored horizontally. How he or his
ancestors excavated this boring is a wonderful
thing. The bank is not of soft, yielding sand; if it
were, it would be unsuited to his purpose. A man
with a knife would find the cutting of the shaft
by no means the simplest of tasks, yet this fragile
little thing, which could be crushed between the
fingers, provided only with a delicate beak and
almost imperceptible feet, has contrived it all, cut
the shaft, removed the debris, and secured for him-
self a cosy, but, alas, not always an inaccessible
home.

At the extreme end, the hole turns abruptly to
left or right, and a tiny chamber is hollowed in
which the nest is placed. It is made mostly of
feathers, caught in the air. A duck feeding near
the mill rises on the water and beats its wings, a
tiny filament is detached, and the light wind bears
it away. Lost? Not so. The eager little eye
which has looked down on oceans and continents
sees it, and it is borne safely away. It is now in
the recess of the tunnel, helping to make a resting-
place for the four or five white, translucent eggs.

It may here be noted that nearly all the eggs laid
in darkened recesses are white. Those of the
Starling and the Great Tit are amongst the excep-
tions, but for the most part the birds which choose
a nesting site in the darkness — the Kingfisher, the
Swift, the Owls, the Puffin, the Storm Petrel, and
many others, all lay white eggs. The whiteness
varies from the pinky translucence of the Sand
Martin's and the Kingfisher's, which disappears
when the yolk is extracted, to the scaly opacity of

368 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

the Puffin's, but they are all undoubtedl}^ white.
Indeed, I can call to mind few purely white eggs
laid in the open. The Wood-pigeon's might be
instanced, but the dense coverts which the bird
affects almost equal in gloom the cavern which
the common ancestors of the tribe first chose
for a nesting-place. With the Swallows, three,
including the Swift, which nest in almost total
darkness, lay white eggs, and one, whose nest
is comparatively open to the light, has eggs pro-
fusely spotted with ash-grey and brown. These
facts may have some bearing on the question of
protective coloration. Or it may be that they are
merely a little trick of Nature's, which she does
not condescend to disclose, as, for example, why she
makes the tip of a black and wdiite cat's tail invari-
ably black, and the tip of the tail of a black and
white dog invariablv white.

Here by the river the first Swallows usually
appear. On one bright April morning, a drowsy
bird fiorure, usuallv a Sand Martin, is seen flit-
ting across the water, the herald of the returning
migrants. Only for an hour or two, when the
sun is warm, may it be seen; as the day darkens
it will be looked for in vain. It is easy to under-
stand how the once commonly accepted belief in the
hibernation of Swallows came to be held. The
sleepy appearance of the first comers, their apparent
w^ithdrawal when the sun ceases to shine, their
habit of assembling close to the river when the time
for migration draws near, these facts gave a certain
colour even to the bold assertion that Hirundo
evaded the winter W'inds by the simple expedient

SWALLOWS 369

of going under water and remaining there until
springtime came round again.

Tliese beliefs were not the sole property of the
uninstructed. Stillingfleet, a Swedish naturalist of
repute, talks as familiarly of the Swallows going
under water in the autumn as he would of his
poultry going to roost a little before sunset.
Another authority — a clergyman, too — found Sw^ifts
hibernating in a tower, and a third remembered the
fall of a clifT where many Swallows were discovered
amidst the debris. Gilbert White, himself, never
gave absolute way to these - confident dogmas,
although he was often troubled in his mind by the
mysteries of migration. He contented himself with
stating as facts only what his own eyes had seen,
and he treated the more startling discoveries of his
friends Avith a reserve which time has fully justified.

Following the Sand Martin, the Swallow comes,
then the House ]\Iartin, and lastly the Swift. Why
the Swift should be the latest to arrive is not clear,
for he is the most rapid and fearless of all bird
travellers. Perhaps England is little to his taste,
for he is also the first to leave it. He differs from
his smaller congeners, in that he does not seek the
face of the waters. His home is in the upper air.
In the air he lives, eats and sleeps, resting on his
wonderful crescent-shaped wings. Indeed, if it
were not for the mundane business of nest-build-
ing and progeny-rearing, it would appear that there
is little need for him to come in contact with matter
at all. Even then he chooses some cranny in tower
or roof, and save at this time he never soils his
24

370 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

foot with earth. Rocks, trees and telegraph wires,
needful resting-places for meaner fowl, have no
charm for him. Least terrestrial of flying things
it would seem that, apart from his care for his pos-
terity and granted a reasonable supply of insects
and of atmosphere, he might live out his allotted
span in absolute space and without the need of any
planet beneath him whatever.

Resting here by the riverside, the grey w^alls of
the abbey, with the gravestones at its feet, can be
seen through the trees. It is midsummer, and the
Swifts are sailing high, the black crescents showing
clear against the blue. Suddenly a pair descend
shrieking, and make at lightning speed for a niche
in the abbey, where the wall is bare of ivy. One
clings for a moment, then enters, soon followed by
the second. Sometimes three birds go in, one
closely following the other, and all shrieking the
while. Within, in a convenient hollow in the
masonry, the nest is placed, a few straws, feathers
and dried grass, all collected on the wing and glued
together by the mucous secretions of the bird. This
is the nest — the nearest approach we have to the
edible nest of the Chinese epicure.

At the river there are always House Martins to
be seen, easy to be distinguished by the band of
white on the back. It is said that they are less
plentiful in England than formerly. To speak wdth
certainty upon this point is not easy, for the falling
off may be local, and there may be an accession
in numbers in other places. Certain it is that
many thriving colonies of House Martins have

SWALLOWS 373

of late years disappeared from their ancestral
haunts.

The House and Sand Martins have one common
characteristic lacking in the Swallow and the Swift :
they love to nest in companies. The House Martin
especially, not content with the brotherhood of its
own kin, shares w^ith the Sparrow and the Rook
an affection for the proximity of man. An isolated
rookery is hard to find, and a Sparrow rarely builds
more than fifty yards from an inhabited house.
This is not remarkable in the Sparrow's case, for
he is a born hanger-on and thrives on the industry
of others. The Martin, on the other hand, seeks
its food afar and asks nothing of man save his
companionship. True, it may be said that it needs
the eaves of his house or barn for a nesting-place,^
but in the remote fields there are many such barns
loved by the Swallow, and these the Alartin almost
invariably neglects.

I have in my mind an old farm-house set in
green fields. A little winding lane, with honey-
suckle and W'ild roses on its banks, runs past the
door to join the old coaching road miles away, as
a tributary stream might join a river. Behind the
house, is a long mistal, fragrant of cows, with
slanting steps leading to the granary. Lender the
mistal eaves, for the whole line, the Martins have
built. Here and there is a little break where the
mud foundations have given way, but for the most

^ That the House Martin associates with mankind from affec-
tion rather than from necessity, is shown by the fact that, if
need be, the wildest sea-cliffs afford it a perfectly satisfactory
nesting site.

374 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

part the nests are closely clustered; some built
together with a common dividing wall. Below, in
the golden straw, the pigs lie lazily and ubiquitous
poultry search every joint in the stones for unnoted
grain. On the roof, tiled with broad grey flags,
the pigeons — Blue Rocks, true to the ancestral type
of the sea-caves — coo with drooping tails and swell-
ing throats around their mates. And in the midst
of all, part of the farmyard domesticity, the Martins
come and go like bees; now one hovers or clings
to the nest-side, now a white chubby breast is seen
at a hole and darts down with such headlong force
that one fears it will strike the ground; and all
around, the air is filled with a medley of sweet
notes, rising and falling, and never for a moment
at rest.

Rise early as one will the Martins are already
awake. The midsummer day is not long enough
for them, and all through the night, faint twitter-
ings come from the nests. In the early April days,
on their first arrival, they are usually seen soaring
high, singly or in pairs. These birds are the fore-
runners of the army, but the numbers are soon
augmented and the business of the season begins.
The birds are in fine plumage, having moulted in
their winter quarters, and from this time forward
they are never idle. Old nests must be repaired
and lined with soft curling feathers, and new ones
built. By the lane side is a little pond, and here
the Martins come to collect the mud-pellets with
which, as with tiny bricks, they build up the
rounded walls of their dwelling. Standing
almost in the water, they take up an almost imper-

SWALLOWS 375

ceptible piece of mud, pressing and rolling it until
more adheres, and the ball becomes as large as a
fairly large pea. This they carry to the site and
afifix to the bare wall some six or seven inches below
the eave. Great judgment of distance is required
here, for the finished nest must come right up to
the eave which forms the top. After a vast number
of journeys a rim appears on the stone; day by
day this increases, swelling outwards, until at
length the quarter hemisphere of rustic mud-work
is completed. This is if all goes well, for the
builders have many difficulties, foreseen and un-
foreseen, to face. Heavy rains may come and beat
upon their house, and in the morning the toilfully
raised wall may be stricken down. Or they may
build too quickly and the structure, imperfectly set,
may fall by reason of its ow^n weight. Then, when
all is finished, a Sparrow, too idle to rake together
straws enough to make the shapeless litter in the
ivy which he calls a nest, coolly takes possession,
and repels the owners on their own threshold.
There are legends of Martins blocking up the door-
way and leaving the Sparrow hermetically sealed
in his ill-gotten abode. But it is to be feared that
these belong to the domain of poetic justice rather
than of natural history.

Save for the Sparrows the Martins have few-
enemies. The farmers usually have an almost
superstitious respect for the "Swallows," and
never willingly allow them to be molested. The
farmstead of which I have spoken, had been in
one family for many generations, and as far back
as the oldest tradition went, there had been

376 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

"Swallows" nesting under the eaves. The time
is uncertain, but it is safe to say that birds had
nested there for at least two hundred years.

To the pond, the true Swallows also come, and
they may be seen carrying in their bills a short
straw or twig. This is coated with mud, and the
pellet transfixed by the straw is borne to the nesting
site. In this manner the wall is " tied in " and
the structure greatly strengthened.

So through the long summer days the Swallow
flits, happy alike in work and play. Family cares
sit lightly upon him. When his young can fly, he
meets and feeds them in the air, joyously as though
it were a game. '' Happy Swallow," says Davy
in his Salmonia. " He is the glad prophet of the
year — the harbinger of the best season ; he lives a
life of enjoyment amongst the loveliest scenes of
Nature; winter is unknown to him, and he leaves
the green meadows of England in autumn for the
myrtle and orange groves of Italy and for the palms
of Africa." Happy Swallow! But Black Care
rides behind the swiftest horseman, and can it be
said that those sabre-like wings leave the spectral
rider entirely behind? Alas, no. Now and again
as he flies, he may be seen to give a curious little
wriggle and shrug. A cruel little parasite is upon
him, crosses continents and seas with him, never
leaves him from the cradle to the grave.

So true is it that to none have the gods vouch-
safed the perfect life.

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE

At the head of the lake the water is very shallow,
so that the broken pebbles can be clearly seen, and
if the eye is drawn to the ring of a rising trout, its
shadowy form can be seen darting from beneath
the dimple.

The stream which feeds the lake runs into a tiny
bay, and so, on the stillest noontide, when the
broad expanse beyond is flat as a looking-glass,
there is always a ripple and a pleasant murmur of
moving water here. On the opposite shore, a dense
reed-bed encroaches far upon the surface, forming
an aquatic forest with tinv waterways and open
pools in its recesses, where the Coots and Water-
hens — mere black dots in the distance — swim in
and out.

Soon a great shadow falls upon the grass and
turns the eye instantly upwards. A Heron is
passing over, his broad wings rising and falling
in regular beats. He pursues a straight and
definite course, with his neck drawn closely between
his shoulders and his legs extending stifliy behind,
looking like a spine projecting from the thicker
mass of feathers of the tail.

The banks of the stream are for the most part
open, with reedy and tussocky hollows, but here
and there are little nooks, sheltered by trees and
bushes with long overhanging sprays which dip

379

So ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

into the current and catch the drifting herbage.
When the water falls a little, this flotsam hangs
from the boughs in dry, grey wisps, and when the
Heron is fishing here in the dim light of the early
morning, his gaunt, motionless head and neck
match the tangle from the stream so completely
that one has no hint of his presence until the
broad ashen-grey wings are unfolded and, with
his long legs hanging, he lifts himself into the air
in ungainly haste. Now, as he flies steadily over-
head, his legs, seen against the sky, stretch behind
him in a thin horizontal line, balancing his snaky
head and pointed bill, making the whole an aerial
machine of perfect counterpoise.

Just now he is making straight for home, the
belt of great ashes and oaks which stand clear
against the horizon at the other extreme of the
lake. There are, perhaps, from twelve to fifteen
nests : large, straggling platforms with hollows
in the centre in which the pale-blue eggs are laid.

When the first branches are reached, these trees
are not difficult to climb, although, when one
arrives at the nests, the great barriers of sticks still
intercept the way, and time and trouble are spent
before an opening can be found.

The Heron breeds early, and even in the first
week in May there are young birds nearly fledged
on the platforms. One appears to be dead, its long
legs are stretched inertly out, and its head and
neck are drooping over the mass of dead sticks
which form the margin of the nest. Its eyes, too,
are closed, but as one stretches forward and has it
almost within grasp of the hand, it pulls itself

HERON

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 383

together and stands on the extreme edge of the
sticks, whilst its more alert companion has already
fluttered to a near umbrageous summit open to lake
and sky, and is standing curving its neck and
looking at the intruder with surprised and
frightened eyes.

Above, in the blue of the sky, the old birds are
wheeling, now and again dropping with out-
stretched legs almost to the tops of the trees, and
then turning and, with a startled "caak," reascend-
ing to the altitudes. We catch one of the young
Herons, with its ashen-grey plumes just becoming
developed, and watch him as he curves his lissom
neck in many graceful evolutions; on reaching the
ground we set him free, when he runs and flutters
until he is lost in the tangle of the undergrowth.

Although the Heron usually builds in high
trees, instances are given of the nests having been
found on the walls of a ruin or upon the bare hill-
side. There is an ancient heronry in Kerry, built
in low hollies and mountain-ashes on an island in
one of the lakes. One nest is placed in so lowly
a position that when a boat runs into the little
harbour, amidst the ferns and mossy stones, it is
possible to reach the eggs by merely standing on
the bow.

In one respect the Heron stands almost alone
amongst birds which subsist by catching living
prey. Others mostly pursue their quarry; hunting
them down either in air or water, with hound-like
persistence. The gaunt Heron relies upon his in-
exhaustible store of patience, standing quite motion-

384 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

less for long spaces of time, \vatching for his
victims to draw near. It has been said that his
feet emit an odour which draws the fish together, or
that the reflection of his pendant breast-plumes in
the water below have some attractive influence, but
be this as it may, long and weary are the watches,
before the lean head is shot forward and the quiver-
ing roach, or eel, is borne upward in the relentless
bill.i

Of the other Herons which are included in the
British list, the Night, Squacco and Purole are of
occasional, although of very rare occurrence, whilst
the Little Egret, the Great White and Buff-backed
Herons owe their place to the appearance of a few
casual stragglers. The Bittern, too, once a familiar
bird on English marshes, though the visits of
isolated examples are annually recorded, appears to
be on the verge of extinction as an English species,
and the White and Black Storks, the Glossy Ibis,
the Spoonbill and the Flamingo can only be
regarded as stray waifs, driven, it may be, by
adverse winds, to take refuge on these alien shores.

At the edge of the reed-beds, the Coots disport
themselves, riding high in the water with their
heads thrust forward as they swim. Even at a
long distance, the naked patch of pure white skin
on the forehead may be clearly seen. They remain
about the lake throughout the year, for, although
in some localities many of these birds leave in the

1 The Heron is constantly accused of destroying trout, but
there is strong reason for believing that coarse fish, especially
eels, together with toads and frogs, form the staple of its diet.

BIRDS OF TIIR MARSH AND LAKE 385

winter to seek the sea-coast, their numbers show
Httle diminution here. The Coot, differing in this
respect from the Waterhen, is seldom seen on dry
land, and, if undisturbed, he rarely wanders far
from the more reedy portion of the lake. At Christ-
mas-time, however, battues are organized, when
guns are posted around the shores and boats are
poled through the reed-beds. Then the Coot is
seen to be a strong flyer, and soon flight after
flight springs into the air, the birds moving in
long extended lines, beating their way along the
margins and often rising to a considerable height.
As they fly the legs are stretched out behind, and
the rate of progression is great, equalling that of a
rocketing Pheasant.

The Coot's nest is a dense mass of flags and
broken stems, usually built in the densest part of
the reed-beds and rising to a foot or more above
the water. In the young the bald patch on the
forehead is not developed, the head and neck being
covered with yellowish filaments. As in the case
of the Waterhen, the young birds swim and dive
with ease directly they are hatched.

The Waterhen, or Moorhen, as it was named
when the word moor was used to express a marsh
or mere, has many of the qualities of the Coot, but
is by no means so consistently a bird of the lake.
As a rule, the Coot frequents the greater expanses
of water, but the Waterhen, on the other hand, is
content with the merest trench or with some small
isolated pool far remote from lake or river. Con-
stantly it may be seen on the reedy cuttings by
25

3S6 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

the railway, moving with nid-nodding head on the
reedy waterways, quite undisturbed by the rush
of the passing trains.

It is, too, far more terrestrial in its ways than the
Coot is, and wanders out into the meadows, especi-
ally in the morning and evening, where, with its
white under tail-feathers conspicuous, it moves
jerkily in search of its food.

The outlet from the lake where it merges into
the stream is thickly surrounded by bushes and
overhanging trees. In the lower branches of a
willow, which grows from the water, the Moorhen
finds a place for its nest. From one point only,
and that by no means easy of access, can it be
approached, but here the movements of the home-
coming bird can be easily watched. The nest
clears the current by a bare six or eight inches,
the base being constantlv awash, and from our
higher point of view the eggs can be clearly seen.
Although the eye can cover the whole expanse of
water around, no trace of the parent bird can be
made out. Still she must be near at hand, for the
eggs are still warm, so we possess our souls in
patience. Crouching in waders, pressed against
the bank, the time seems long, but she comes at
last. ^Moving swiftly in the underwood, and with-
out crackling of twig or rustle of leaf, she steals
to the nest. Then, after pausing a moment to con-
vince herself that nothing has been disturbed, she
settles complacently upon the eggs and resumes
her task, with the current gently swirling about her.

In the nesting habits of the Waterhen many
interesting facts have been observed. The nest is

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 389

often seen to be barely raised above the surface
of the water, and it seems that, if the tide rose ever
so httle, tlie eggs must be inundated. But this
rarely happens. Sometimes the reedy structure is
balanced on the partly submerged branches of a
fallen tree, and these rise with the current, so that
the nest is still held clear of the water. But even
where the foundation is fixed, the Moorhen has
resources in reserve to evade the oncoming flood.
In these times of stress she has been known to
remove the eggs to the bank, and then both parent
birds have been seen busilv engaged in adding
fresh material to the nest. Later, the hen has
carried the eggs in her bill and replaced them in
the raised structure where they might now rest high
and dry.

Of the five species of Grebe which are included
in the British list, two only, the Great Crested and
the Little Grebe, can be described as familiar birds
upon English meres and marshes.

Of the remaining three, the Red-necked Grebe
is a more or less irregular winter visitor, and has
never been known to nest in this country. The
Sclavonian Grebe is a northern species, visiting
Scotland at times in considerable numbers, but to
be accounted little more than a casual straggler to
southern Britain, and the Eared Grebe, a southern
race, distinguished by its slightly upturned bill
and the patch of reddish-gold feathers behind the
ear, occurs still more rarely.

The Grebe family have certain characteristics
which set them apart from all other British birds.

390 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

The nests of both the Waterhen and the Coot have
been known to drift from their moorings, and the
birds have thus reared their young on a floating
raft of reeds. But they, in common with other
aquatic fowl, seek a nesting-place which, in the
first instance at any rate, shall be secure and dry.
But with the Grebes the nest is often a mere pad
of dank sedge, constantly saturated and liable to
float in any direction, save that the place selected
is usually a small lagoon in the heart of the reed-
bed, where the high stems growing on every hand
guard the drifting nursery against a far-extended
voyage.

Other peculiarities of the Grebes are that they
frequently swallow their own feathers, which may
be found in a compacted mass in the stomach;
that when disturbed they conceal the eggs wdtb
blades and stems rapidly torn from their sur-
roundings by the bird's bill, and that they show-
singular care for their young, when the little black
dots first take to the water.

In the reeds of the Heron-lake the Little Grebes
nest annually, and sometimes, if the boat be
steered gently along the windings of the narrow
waterway, an interesting sight may be seen. As
we draw nearer to the nesting-place, half-hidden
by the forest of rushes, we gain no glimpse of the
bird, but a movement on the face of the still lagoon,
as of a diving water-rat, followed by a slight
vibration in the reeds, warns us that the parent
Grebe has been startled from her home by our
coming. For a long time there is silence, broken

J31RDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 393

only by the cry of a Coot far out on the lake, or
by the croak of a Heron soaring above the distant
trees. Then from the densest part of the reeds
comes the low "twit-wit," and again we notice a
trembling in the upper stems. The reason for the
warning is soon apparent. Two small, dark
fluffy balls, led by the silence to believe that the
enemy has gone by, have moved to the edge of
the rushes and now swim confidently out into the
lagoon. They are so near that they could almost
be reached by an outstretched oar, and the mother-
bird at once realizes that they are in danger. She
suddenlv appears from beneath the water at their
side uttering her sharp "twit-wit," and the little
ones take refuge beneath her wings, when she con-
vovs them rapidly to the shelter beyond. It is
said that on occasion she will dive with the young
still clinging to her sides, and this, I think, may
be readily believed.

The Great Crested Grebe has many habits in
common with the more familiar Dabchick. It may
still be found throughout the whole year on certain
of the more extensive sheets of water in England,
but from the reticence of its ways it usually evades
attention. The beauty of its plumage has led
largely to its destruction in the past : the silvery
whiteness of the under surfaces, from which its
name Satin Grebe is derived, having long ago
attracted the envious eye of Fashion. In certain
parts of the Continent the Great Crested Grebe is
regularly hunted down for its skin, and if it were

394 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

not for the wise svstem of protection extended to
it in this country, the species would doubtless have
already become extinct.

Another curious bird, but one rather of the
marshes than the lake, is the Water Rail. It is
sometimes found at a considerable distance from
the water, but it is none the less truly aquatic, for,
although its feet are not webbed, it swims and
dives freelv. It has many characteristics in com-
mon with the Corncrake, shunning observation with
even greater zeal, and rarely seen except when driven
forcibly from its haunt in the rank vegetation.
Then it flies heavily with down-stretched legs for
a short distance, dropping into the first belt of
reeds which may offer it shelter. But although in
the marsh it appears to distrust its own wing-
power and to rely rather on running for the
evasion of its enemies, it is still capable of far-
extended flights, and on migration has been known
to alight upon ships five hundred miles from the
nearest land.

The Water Rail is usually a silent bird, but in the
spring, one is sometimes startled by its loud, croon-
ing cry, often repeated from the shelter of the reeds.
The nest is deeply hidden in rank herbage, and
contains usually seven or eight eggs of a creamy-
white dotted with reddish-brow^n and grey. When
approached the Rail slips away so swiftly and
silently that it is a most difficult thing to catch a
glimpse of it at all. It moves more like a rat or a
mole than a bird, pressing close to the ground and
stealing through the densest sedges, without once

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 395

permitting itself to be seen in the open. Although
it is fairlv plentiful in certain localities its presence
is often unsuspected, even by those who spend their
whole lives near its haunts.

The W^ater Rail would seem to rear two broods
in each season, the young in down being found
both in early May and in August.

Close to the shore of the lake is a small island,
little more than a peninsula, indeed, for the en-
croaching reed-beds on the inner side connect it
with the land. It is covered with grass and ferns
set amidst low trees, and its sides are indented with
small, rocky harbours screened by overhanging
branches. As one examines the tangled brush-
w^ood, noting every slight depression in the herb-
age, something bright appears gleaming in the
grass. Watching this speck of light carefully, set
as it is in the matted greenery around, the outline
of a dusky head becomes slowly distinct and we
are able to make out a Mallard sitting on her nest.
She allows us to draw near to within a few feet,
trusting to her dry-leaf tinted plumage for con-
cealment, then, with trailing wings, she scuttles
lamely to the water and swims restlessly to and
fro, with her anxious head turned to the shore of
the island. A mass of sea-green eggs are closely
packed in the downy hollow of the nest, some
almost hidden by the feathery lining, and all hot
from the recent contact with the duck's body.

Every year one or two pairs of Mallard nest
upon the island or on the grassy and heathery
banks near at hand, and when one is fishing in the

396 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

later summer, the little flotillas may be seen, headed
by the parent duck, investigating every recess and
leafy nook of the coast-line, or making more ex-
tended excursions to the distant reed-beds, when,
moving in close order, they look like dark streaks
on the surface of the lake.

The young do not attain the power of flight for
two months or more. As they grow older they
appear to become aware of their helpless condition,
and, during the day especially, they remain closely
hidden in the reeds. At this flapper stage of their
existence, they may easily be tracked clown by
spaniels and shot as they flutter before their pur-
suers, a very indifferent, even if a profitable, form
of sport.

Perhaps one of the most interesting peculiarities
of the Mallard is the remarkable change of plumage
to which the drake is subject at certain seasons of
the year. Throughout the winter and in the early
summer he is a resplendent bird, with glossy green
head, chestnut breast and ashen-grey, blue-banded
wings. At about the end of May his appearance
begins to change. The velvety black curling
feathers of the tail fall away, the gay tints of head
and breast merge into a dull browm, and by mid-
July there is little or nothing by which to distin-
guish him from the most sombre-hued duck.

But this curious eclipse is of short duration. In
August new feathers appear, by degrees his
brilliant colours are replaced, and in October he
stands forth again radiant in chestnut, green and
ashen-grey.

Many birds take on new and brighter colouring

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 397

as the nesting- season approaches, but it may be
said that in few is the double transformation so
rapid and so marked as in the case of the Mallard.

As the winter draws on, great flocks of Mallards
from northern latitudes visit the lake, and these
are accompanied by parties of Widgeon and Teal.
The Teal are far less wary than any of their con-
geners, and if startled from their shelter they
usualh' flv in circles about the lower part of the
lake, soon dropping again into the reeds. Both
the Teal and the Widgeon remain upon the w^ater
during the day, but the Mallard wander afar,
returning to feed on the plashy margins at almost
exactly the same time every night. Just as the
darkness falls on the wintry scene, the listener in
the reeds may hear the whistling of wings. Gradu-
ally the sound grows more distinct, and at length
the dim forms are seen beating their way through
the gloom. They are so near that the young duck-
shooter usually fires at their first approach, and is
surprised to find that no bird falls, but that the
flight appears instantly to melt into the upper
darkness and to vanish like shadows. They are
really at a considerable height, and, if left undis-
turbed, they wnll wheel round and round over the
feeding-ground, falling lower at every circle, until
at length they drop with a faint splash into the
reed-pools, ploughing a long, rippling track in
the face of the dark water.

The Teal and the Mallard are both night-feeders,
but the Widgeon, although its whistling cry may
often be heard in the darkness as it wings its way

398 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

with other nocturnal fowl across the lake, will often
seek the meadows in broad daylight to sustain
itself upon the short grass.

The Teal is the smallest and one of the most
beautiful of the British ducks, and like the Widgeon,
usually appears in England as a winter migrant
only. A few pairs, however, linger during the
summer in suitable localities and their nests are
occasionally found. The W^idgeon, on the other
hand, consistently return to their Scandinavian
breeding haunts in March and April, deserting
England altogether and only remaining in com-
paratively rare instances to rear their young on
the more northerlv Scottish lakes.

The majority of the British ducks are more or
less irregular winter visitors only. They, with the
■Mergansers, form an interesting group consisting
of about thirty species. Of these, eleven are ex-
tremely rare. The Ruddy Sheld-duck, American
Widgeon, Red-crested Pochard, Ferruginous Duck,
BufYel-headed Duck, King Eider, Steller's Eider,
Velvet Scoter, Surf Scoter and the Hooded Mer-
ganser are all the merest stragglers, and are in-
cluded in the list by reason of a few casual
occurrences.

Of those remaining the Shoveller may at once
be distinguished by his broad spoon-shaped bill.
It is mainly a winter visitor, but a few pairs remain
to breed in Great Britain.

The Gargany, a small duck resembling the Teal,
known, indeed, as the Summer Teal, differs from
most of its kin inasmuch as it is a summer visitor

BIRDS OF THE AlARSH AND LAKE 399

only. It is a rare and local species, but is said to
be increasing in certain localities, owing to wise
protection during the nesting time.

The Gadwall or Grey Duck, a bird resembling
the female ^lallard save for the white bar on the
wing, is a winter visitor also of rare occurrence.
It is an extremely shy fowl, hiding closely in the
reed-beds during the day and feeding by night.

The Pochard is a much more abundant species,
and although in the main a winter visitor, it breeds
in considerable numbers on the more extensive
lakes and meres both in England and Scotland.
The plumage of the drake is ashen-grey, with the
upper breast and neck black and the head of a
deep chestnut-red. This latter characteristic has
caused it to be known in some localities as the
Red-headed or Hot Poker.

The Pintail is a most graceful bird, made con-
spicuous at once by the long feathers of the tail.
Under the title of Sea Pheasant it is sometimes con-
fused with the Long-tailed Duck, but in plumage
the two are essentially dissimilar. In the Pintail
the head of the drake is dark-brown, with a white
line extending down the neck and joining the grey-
ish-white breast, with the upper surfaces ashen-
grey and the tail black. In the Long-tailed the
w^hole plumage is deep brown merging into black
and beautifully variegated with pure white. Both
are w-inter migrants only, the Pintail being a fairly
regular visitor and much the commoner bird of the
two.

The Golden-eye, also, is a constant winter visitor
to English lakes and estuaries, although never in

400 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

large numbers. The drake is a handsome bird,
with glossy green head, bluish-black back and white
breast. It has also a conspicuous white spot near
the bill, and derives its name from the golden-
yellow colour of the eye. The nest is said to have
been found in the extreme north of Scotland.

The Tufted Duck is a small compact fowl with
purple crested head, black breast and back and
white under surfaces. It swims low in the water
and feeds chiefly by diving. Considerable numbers
occur in England in winter, and manv remain to
breed.

The Smew is strictly a winter visitor, never
having been known to nest in this country. The
plumage of the adult drake is white streaked with
dark lines and delicately marbled with ashen-grey.
Those seen in Great Britain, however, are usually
either young birds or females, and their general
colouring is grey with heads of a reddish-brown.

The Scaup, Common Scoter, Eider and Sheld
Ducks are more essentially marine species and are
rarely seen in the inland lakes. The Scau^D has a
dark head and throat, with ashen-grey back and
wings and white under surfaces. It occurs in Eng-
land in winter, freciuenting the mud-flats and
saltings, and is said to nest occasionally in
Scotland.

The Scoter or Black Duck is, as its name im-
plies, entirelv black. It is the most numerous of
the winter visitants, and flocks numbering many
thousands occur in severe weather upon the east
coast. The parties gather together in the evening,
and the dense black masses may be seen from a

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 401

great distance as they rest upon the sea. The
Scoter nests occasionally in the north of Scotland.

The Eider is less consistently a winter visitor to
Great Britain than others of its congeners, and,
indeed, in the north of England and in Scotland
it is resident and nests annually in great numbers
upon the coasts. In the drake, in full breeding
dress, the under surfaces are black and the back
and wings white, a reversal of the usual order in
plumage, and these hues, together with his buff
breast and black and green head, place him in
strong contrast with the females of the species,
which remain in their sombre brown garb through-
out the year. The nest of the Eider is well known
by reason of the vast quantity of the softest down
which, torn from the breast of the duck by her
own act, is used as a lining. This is regularly
collected as an article of commerce.

The Sheld-duck, too, is a resident species and,
as in the case of the male Eider, the drake, with
his glossy head and variegated black and white
plumage, is a strikingly handsome bird. In his
colouring he stands alone by reason of the rich
chestnut band which extends around the upper
breast and covers part of the back. The nest of
this species is usually made in rabbit-holes.

Of the Mergansers, distinguished from the true
ducks by their narrow serrated bills, a feature which
has gained for them the name of Saw-bill, the Red-
breasted is the most common. Although in Eng-
land it is mainly a winter visitor, it is resident in
the north, and in most parts of Scotland is a
familiar breeding species. The drake has a green
26

402 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

crested head and white neck, Avith black back and
grey under surfaces, but he is more readily known
by his red bill and the band of chestnut-red flecked
with black which crosses his breast.

The Goosander is a larger bird, a migrant from
northern latitudes, breeding much less commonly
in Great Britain, and lacking the crest and the
chestnut band of the common ]\Ierp:anser.

Geese

Of the eleven species of Geese included in the
British list, six are extremely rare and all are winter
visitors only. At one time the Grey-Lag, from
which the domesticated birds are derived, was
resident in England, nesting regularly in certain of
the fenny districts. Now it is a rare comer,
although it is said still to breed in the extreme
north of Scotland. Of the remaining five, the
White-fronted Goose occurs annually in small
numbers, more especially in the southern counties
of Ireland. It is of a brownish-grey hue and is
distinguished from its congeners by its white fore-
head. The Bean- and Pink-footed Geese are also
regular autumnal migrants to this country, and
were at one time deemed to be identical in species.
In their plumage (brownish-grey) and general
character they are extremely alike, the distinguish-
ing features being that the Pink-footed is smaller,
w^ith a shorter bill, and that the feet are of a dis-
tinct pink as compared with the more orange colour-
ing of those of the Bean Goose. Lord Lilford

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 403

states, however, that this latter pecuHarity is not
always to be relied on.

The Bernacle and the Brent Geese have also
certain characteristics in common, inasmuch as
both have black feet and are altogether of a blacker-
grey hue than any of the preceding species. They
are at once set apart, however, bv the fact that the
face of the Bernacle is pure white, whereas in the
case of the Brent, the whole of the head and neck
is black, save that the neck is relieved with a small
band of white. In addition the Brent is much
smaller in size, being the smallest of the British
Geese. Both species occur in winter, sometimes in
considerable flocks, the Brent m(jre commonly.
Indeed, the Brent is the most numerous of anv of
the species which visit the British Isles.

Swans

Four species of Swan are given as British. Of
these Bewick's and the Polish Swans are of the
rarest occurrence. Of the remaining two, the
Whooper and the ]\Iute Swan, the former visits
these islands more or less irregularly in winter.
The i\Iute Swan is the common domesticated
species, and there is no doubt that many shot in
this country are merely escaped birds from some
ornamental water. At the same time, seeing that
the INIute Swan, in a perfectly wild state, breeds
in parts of Sweden and Denmark, it is highly prob-
able that occasional stragglers reach these coasts.
This bird, so well known for its peculiar grace and

404 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

dignity, is said to have been introduced into Eng-
land from Cyprus by Richard the First. The two
species may be at once distinguished by the bilL
In the Whooper the lower part of the bill is black
and the base yellow. In the Mute Swan the base
is black and the lower part deep-orange.

From the earliest ages wild fowl have been pur-
sued in Great Britain, not onlv for sport, but as a
means of livelihood. The old-time fowlers were
naturalists as well, and they appear to have coined
a variety of terms to express gatherings of birds,
some of which are now obsolete. As most of these
set forth the character and general appearance of
the groups with no little accuracy, even if a small
number are now unintelligible, it is well to rescue
as many as possible from oblivion.

Thus we have —

A herd, bank or troop of Swans.

A skein or gaggle of Geese.

A plump, sord, suke, badelving or paddling of
Mallard.

A squad, knob, sprig, knot, coil, spring or string
of Teal.

A bunch of \\"idgeon.

A dopping of Sheld-ducks.

A rush of Pochards.

A wisp or walk of Snipe.

A fall of Woodcock (probably in allusion to their
sudden descent on migration).

A covert, team or fleet of Coots.

A trip of Dotterel.

A stand, wing, flight or congregation of Plover.

BIRDS OF THE xMARSH AND LAKE 405

A detachment of Curlew.

A cloud or fling of Dunlin.

A hill of Ruffs.

A group or sege of Herons.

A company of Storks.

A regiment of Flamingoes.

A brood of Black Grouse.

A brood or pack of Red Grouse.

A covey of Partridges.

A bevy of Quail.

A nye or nide of Pheasants.

A rafter of Turkeys.

A muster of Peacocks.

A cast or stud of Hawks.

A building or budget of Rooks.

A chattering of Choughs.

A crowd or congregation of Redwings or Field-
fares.

A band of Jays.

A murmuration of Starlings.

A flock of Larks.

A gathering, assemblage or flight of Swallows or
Swifts.

A colony of Sand ^Martins.

A watch of Nightingales.

A charm of Goldfinches.

A tribe, cluster or mob of Sparrows.

A batch of Wagtails.

About the tall reeds and willows which fringe
the lake at the point from which the river flows, a
small, active bird is constantly seen. It is of

4o6 EXGLISH BIRD LIFE

brownish hue, with a jet-black head and breast
relieved by a collar of pure white. It is generally
known as the Black-headed Bunting, a name
obviously appropriate, and is so described in the
earlier editions of Yarrell. But it would appear that
this title had already been bestowed upon a much
rarer member of the Bunting group, a bird, indeed,
which is hardly known in Great Britain. Thus
our familiar black-headed form has been re-
christened the Reed Bunting, a name suitable
enough, but by no means so clearly descriptive.

The Reed Bunting is resident throughout the
year, and in the depth of winter may still be seen
flitting about the frozen margin of the lake. In
spring the cock ascends to the topmost spray of
the reeds or willows to utter his somewhat monoton-
ous song, the prolonged notes bearing some
resemblance to those of the Yellow-hammer.

The nest is built in the tangled herbage at the
base of the bushes, and is formed of dry grass lined
with hair or with the feathery plumes of the reeds.
The four or five eggs are of a pale brownish hue
streaked irregularly with black.

At one time the Bearded Titmouse — the interest-
ing little Reed Pheasant — is said to have haunted
the lake, but the silvery notes are now never heard.
Indeed, the sight of a party of these delicate little
creatures with their tawny and white wings and black
moustaches, climbing and hanging about the sway-
ing reeds, is now^ rarely to be gained in England,
except in the more remote parts of the Norfolk

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 409

Broads, and even here it would seem that their
numbers are rapidly growing less.

To the willows and hazels at the edge of th(i
stream, as well as to the reed-beds, certain small
warblers come in the summer. Of these, the Sedge
Warbler is by far the most abundant. With the
exception of the Sandpiper and the Dipper, the
angler has no more constant companion than the
little Sedge Warbler. True, its confidence is not
easily gained. As one approaches the river where
the willows grow so thickly on the bank that a way
must be forced through their branches before the
shingle below can be reached, we hear the rapid
notes, "chip-cheep, chissock-chissock, cheep-chip,"
many times repeated. The bird is so near, almost
at our feet, in a moment more we must see it. No.
On the instant that we stand still the song is
arrested. Peer as we will through the narrow
green leaves which droop and dip into the slowly
moving current beneath, no sign of the bird meets
the eye. W"e brush our way down the sandy de-
clivity, a little disappointed. Now the rod is put
up, and, standing on the shingle, we cast up-stream
to the break in the water where it swirls round the
great mossy stone. For the time we have forgotten
all save the rightful object of our pursuit : the good
trout which is well-nigh certain to be lying just
beyond the fringe of the weeds. As we cast, the
" chip-cheep, chissock-chip " starts out again from
the willows almost at our elbow. But again
the song at once ceases. So we resume our

410 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

task peacefully and by degrees the little brown
singer becomes reassured. We see it soon, moving
furtively in the deeper shade ; now it descends to
explore the tangled roots of an oak-tree in a recess
hollowed by the stream ; now it follows the line of
an overhanging willow bough, threading its wav
through the leaves, till at length it reaches the great
wisp of drift-weed caught by the lowest branches.
Here it rests for a moment full in the open, and its
little throat swells as it utters its shrill rapid notes ;
then unobtrusively, but without haste, it steals back
to its shelter. But it never goes far aw^ay. All
through the long summer days, when w^e come,
wading deeply, to the stretch by the willows, we
hear its song and rarely miss the sight of the bird
itself, moving to and fro in the loved haunt which
it has travelled so far — it may be from South
Africa — to regain.

With the exception of the Nightingale no bird
is so truly a night singer as the Sedge-bird. Often
in the summer midnight, when animated Nature is
sleeping in the hush of the mowing-grass, or in the
thickly-leaved woods, we hear, down by the river,
the sudden ring of the familiar notes. They are
repeated, time after time, for the Sedge-bird ap-
pears to sing more continuously at night than in
the daytime. Even w hen it becomes silent, a pebble
thrown lightly in the bushes will set it singing
again — a peculiaritv not, I think, to be noted in
anv other British bird. Indeed, as the belated
traveller takes his way home in the darkness, this
small warbler seems to delight in cheering him on
his path wnth a few merry staves. Oftentimes as

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 413

one drives along a country lane in the far-advanced
night, the beat of the horse's hoofs will set the little
singer going, the music dying down as the sound
of the wheels becomes faint in the distance.

It may be noted here that many birds will con-
tinue to sing confidently so long as one keeps
moving; when the footfall is arrested they be-
come at once suspicious, just as Partridges,
which lie closely before the advancing guns,
will spring instantly into the air directly the line
is checked.

The song of the Sedge Warbler, intermittent and
even jarring as it sometimes is, has a striking and
even thrilling effect when it suddenly breaks the
stillness of a June night. Although the notes differ
altogether from those of the Nightingale in quality
and power, they are constantly confounded, and the
paragraphs which appear in the papers from time
to time, announcing the occurrence of the king of
songsters in the more northerly counties, usually
refer in reality to the Sedge-bird.

Another unobtrusive little bird is the Reed
\\^arbler, and by reason of its habitat, characteristic
movements and even of its song, it may easily be
mistaken for the more abundant Sedge Warbler.
Yet on examination the two birds are seen to be
quite distinct. In plumage the Reed Warbler lacks
the mottled appearance of the Sedge Warbler, the
whole of the upper surfaces, with the exception of
a narrow yellowish streak above the eye, being of
a uniform brown. Like others of the Aquatic
warblers, the middle feathers of the tail are about a

414 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

quarter of an inch longer than the outer, giving the
tail a rounded appearance.

The nest is constructed on lines beautifully
adapted to the exigencies of its surroundings. It
is formed for the most part of very long grass care-
fully woven about the stronger reed-stems, and is
so deep that, although the pendant cradle is rocked
violently by every gust of wind, the eggs and callow
3'oung remain quite secure. Sometimes, however,
in its choice of a breeding site the Reed Warbler
belies its name, for its nest has been frequently
found, not only far from all reed-beds, but even
from the neighbourhood of water. Saunders states
that it has been known to build annually in lilac-
trees in a garden at Hampstead. It has been noted
by Yarrell that in some districts, this species is the
most common victim of the Cuckoo's parasitical
habit.

The Reed Warbler is usually somewhat later in
its arrival than the Sedge-bird. Its distribution in
Great Britain is irregular, being, of course, largely
determined by the suitability of each locality. Still,
in many places where it might be expected to occur,
and, where its near congener the Sedge Warbler is
abundant, it is conspicuously absent. In common
with the Nightingale, and many others of the
warblers, it appears to avoid certain of the south-
western counties, Cornwall and Devon in particular,
in the former of which it is practically unknown.

Five species of these warblers named aquatic are
given as British; the sixth, the Marsh Warbler,
although it has occurred in England, has not re-

BIRDS OF THE MARSH AND LAKE 415

ceived recoo-nition from the chief authorities. Of
the five, two are distinctly rare. The Great Reed
Warbler, the largest of the race, has only two or
three well-authenticated occurrences to its credit :
certain freshly killed specimens, examined by
capable naturalists, being believed to have been
imported from Rotterdam. The bird in question is
nearly eight inches in length, and is of a lightish-
brown hue with the breast and under surface a
dingy white. It is well known in many parts of
Europe, especially in Belgium and Holland.

The Aquatic Warbler, too, is a bird of two or
three occurrences only. It is about four and a half
inches in length and bears a general resemblance
to the common Sedge Warbler, with which it has
sometimes been confounded. Its distribution on
the European continent is restricted and it would
nowhere appear to be a common species.

Another reed-loving bird is Savi's Warbler, a
species first claimed to be distinct by the Italian
naturalist whose name it bears. It is about five and
a half inches long, the upper surface of the body
is of a reddish-brown hue, the tail marked with
faint dark bands and the under surface pale reddish-
brown, except the chin, which is white. A few
examples of this warbler have been obtained in this
country, chiefly in the Een districts, but there is
reason for believing that it was once a regular,
although always an uncommon visitor. With the
draining of certain of its haunts, it would seem to
have been driven altogether away, for no note of its
occurrence, so far as I am aware, later than 1849, is
recorded.

BIRDS OF THE SHORES AND
^lUD-FLATS

The long, narrow point of land stretches far into
the North Sea. It is for the most part a series of
dunes with smooth, sandy hollows, fringed and
partly overgrown by stiff, wind-beaten bent-grass.
On the one side the salt waves beat on the shingle,
and on the other the dull broad expanse of the river
extends to the dimlv-seen Lincolnshire coast. As
the tide falls the river withdraws to its channel, and
the vast mud-flats lie exposed, their dead grey
monotony broken here and there by gleams of light
w^here the water still rests in the depressions. Birds
migrating from the Norway littoral find in this
narrow isthmus their first resting-place, and here,
in the autumn and winter months, great numbers of
the wader clan may be seen following the line of
the tide, or running hither and thither as they seek
the small marine creatures upon which they feed.

At first sight, and in the distance, the birds which
compose the flocks appear almost alike, save that
here and there the form of a Curlew or A\"himbrel
stands conspicuously large as compared with the
lesser races. But on closer examination it is seen
that although they are mostly small snipe-like birds,
with sharply-pointed wings and long slender bills,

416

BIRDS OF THE SHORES 41?

tliey are marked by widely different characters of
shape and plumage. Mighty travellers are they,
most of them having seen the light amidst the
tundras and black marshes of Siberia, where for
centuries their nests and eggs were undiscovered.

With the exception of the Curlew, the Whimbrel
is the largest bird now to be seen on the flats. So
like the Curlew is it in shape and plumage, and
especially in its long, curved bill, that it is well
described by the old fowlers as the Jack or Half
Curlew. It differs materially, however, from the
larger bird in its manner of life. The "full"
Curlew is a resident, nesting annually on English
moorlands. The Whimbrel has never been known
to breed in England, nor, indeed, in Great Britain,
except, on more or less rare occasions, in the Ork-
neys and Shetlands. It is a bird of double passage,
arriving on our coasts in Alay (often in large
numbers, and so regularly that it has come to be
known as the ]\Iay-bird) on its wav to its nesting
haunts in the far north.

In the Faroes and in Iceland it is a common
breeding species. The nest is a mere depression
in the herbage, and the eggs, four in number, are
of an olive-green hue blotched with brown.

The movements of the Whimbrel are so rapid
that by the end of July the birds are on their return
journey, and are again seen on the flats, the young
arriving first. Vast numbers, however, do not
appear to tarry, but merely pass over high in the
air, and are to be identified only by their whistling
cry.

Of the wandering flocks, those of the Dunlin are
27

4i8 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

the most numerous. As these vast congregations
sweep by, flying low, they appear grey, but when
they ascend and turn the}^ flash pure white in the
sunshine. Far over the water they look like a
wreath of smoke on the horizon, and they are often
lost to sight until at length, suddenly wheeling, the
flash of silver reveals them for an instant in the far
distance. Seen near at hand, in the fall of the
year, the head, back and wings of the Dunlin are of
a grevish brown, and the under surfaces silvery-
white ; but in full breeding plumage the male takes
on handsome chestnut and black hues with some-
thing of the lustre of the Snipe, the lower breast,
like that of the Golden Plover, becoming a deep
black.

The nesting area of this species is unusually wide,
extending to the most northerly latitudes, yet
numbers remain to rear their young on remote
Scottish mountains, and even on certain English
moorlands at sufficiently high elevations.

As one watches the detachments running swiftly
on the flats, a bird may be noticed which at first
sight, in its grey and white plumage, bears a strong
resemblance to the Dunlin, with which in by-gone
times it was constantly confused. It is seen, how-
ever, that the bill is curved like a Curlew's, and
that as it flies, a broad band of white on the back
is disclosed.

This bird — the Curlew Sandpiper — has long been
observed as a familiar visitor on migration to
English estuaries, but has never been known to
nest in Great Britain ; indeed, until recent years,

BIRDS OF THE SHORES 419

the exact position of the breeding sites remained
undiscoA^ered.

But the latitudes in which the eggs might be
looked for, had long been mapped out by ornithol-
ogists, and at length, after many expeditions had
failed, Mr. H. L. Popham, of the British Orni-
thologists' Union, on July 3, 1897, succeeded in
discovering a nest at the mouth of the Yenesei, one
of the great Siberian rivers which flow into the
Arctic Ocean. This nest was in a hollow in a ridge
on the tundra, and the four eggs, the only examples
known, resemble those of the Snipe, but are some-
what smaller.

Sometimes, mingling with the Dunlin, the Purple
Sandpiper, a bird alike in shape, but obviously
darker and more purple in hue, may be distin-
guished. This Sandpiper, however, although it is
widely distributed in winter on the coasts of Great
Britain, and is believed to nest at times on the
Fame Islands and in the Outer Hebrides, is by no
means numerous.

It is not a true bird of the mud-flats, preferring
rather the rocky edges of the sea, where in parties
of eight or ten, it may be seen flitting amidst the
sea-weed, oftentimes partly submerged by the spray
as it feeds. Although the Purple Sandpiper is not
web-footed, it swims and even dives freely on
occasion, but does not, I think, commonly take to
the water unless wounded or pursued.

The Green Sandpiper, too, visits these latitudes
in its spring and autumn migrations, but is usually

420 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

seen further inland, frequenting the drains and
muddy pools in the vicinity. " It is an extremely
wary bird, and when startled from its haunt flies
straight into the air, uttering a shrill, whistling cry.
This species breeds in the far north, and curiously
enough for a Sandpiper, usually selects the deserted
nests of various tree-building birds in which to lay
its eggs. In several parts of England these birds,
in full breeding plumage, have been found in mid-
June, but there appears to be no satisfactory record
of the eggs having been found in this country.

A second species — the Wood Sandpiper — was at
one time believed to be identical with the Green
Sandpiper. In many respects they are alike, but
specific differences are now clearly known to
exist.

Of other species of Sandpiper classed as British,
the Broad-billed, Pectoral, Bonaparte's, Buff-
breasted, Bartram's, Spotted and Yellow-shanked,
all are the rarest stragglers, mainly from North
America.

All through the period of the autumn migration,
changes are taking place in the hordes of waders
which visit the mud-flats. Dav by day one watches
the wandering groups on the look-out for some rare
stranger from Siberian wastes which may have
come in the night. Sometimes, running with the
flocks, a tiny bird may be made out, a miniature
Dunlin, as it would seem, so minute that it is at
once conspicuous. The Little Stint is at best an
uncommon visitor to English coasts, the British
Islands apparently lying to the west of its usual

BIRDS OF THE SHORES 421

line of migration ; but here, if anywhere, it may be
looked for.

As it trips daintily ui3on the mud, or flits over
the heads of its companions to obtain a foremost
place, it constantly utters a soft piping cry, far
different from the louder note of the Dunlin. The
Little Stint is one of the birds whose nest for many
years evaded detection. In 1843 the explorer
Middendorft' found its breeding haunts in the far
east of Siberia, but it was not until 1875 that eggs
were discovered in Europe.

In Seebohm's Siberia in Europe an interesting
account is given of the success of his expedition.
The explorers had reached a desolate region near
the mouth of the Petchora river, a Avaste of dead
flat land full of little lakes, mostly very shallow, and
filled with black and coffee-coloured mud with an
inch or two of brackish water upon it. Mr.
Seebohm writes: — "I had not gone far before I
heard our interpreter, Piottuch, shouting in a state
of great excitement. Harvie-Brown was the first to
come up, and I joined them shortly afterwards. I
found them sitting on the ground with a couple of
Little Stints in down. I sat down beside them and
w-e watched the parent bird as she was fluttering, flv-
ing and running all around us, sometimes coming
within a foot of one of us. We went a short dis-
tance, and Piottuch again made loud demonstra-
tions of delight. This time it was nest and eggs.
The nest was like that of most Sandpipers, and a
mere depression in the ground, with such dead
maroshka (cloudberry) leaves and other dry material
as was within easy reach scraped together to serve

422 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

as lining. . . . The ground where the nests were
placed was full of tussocks and hummocks close
together, the swampv ground between being almost
hidden, or traceable only by rows of cotton-grass."
Temminck's Stint, the least of the British Sand-
pipers— a bird even smaller than the Little Stint —
also visits England on rare occasions; and the
American Stint is included in the list on the
strength of some two or three occurrences.

Late in October, parties of Knots, birds plainly
larger than the Dunlins, appear upon the flats,
sometimes in considerable numbers. In their
autumn plumage they are of a lightish-grey hue
with the dark edges of the wing-feathers clearly
discernible. In spring, however, the male takes on
brighter tints of reddish-brown, black and white,
and his breast changes to a rich chestnut. The
nesting habits of the Knot still appear to be
involved in considerable mystery.

In 1876, Col. Feilden, naturalist to H.AI.S.
Alert, came upon the nestlings in Grinnell
Land, and in the same latitude other examples of
the young have been taken. Eggs believed to have
been laid by the Knot in captivity have, from time
to time, been exhibited, but hitherto, notwithstand-
ing the vastness of the flocks seen on migration,
the true breeding haunts of the birds, with nests
and eggs in their natural surroundings, have still
to be traced.

Many other birds visit the flats ; some, it may be,
appearing for a single day, whilst others remain
during the entire winter. Hither come the Sander-

BIRDS OF THE SHORES 423

ling, to be distinguished at once by his silvery
hues intermingled with black, the Redshank and
the Grey Plover. Here may be commonly seen the
Bar-tailed Godwit, and upon some happy occasion,
a sight of the Ruff and of the still rarer Black-tailed
Godwit may be gained. Here, too, in the bents
fringing this land of the migrants, the Rustic
Bunting once appeared, and in the rough pastures
beyond, MacOueen's Bustard, two extremely rare
occurrences in England.

The Grey Plover resembles the Golden in many
respects, but may be readily distinguished by its
larger size, lighter hue, and by the blackness of
the under wing-feathers displayed in flight. It is
one of the species which nests in the far north, and
is known in England only on the spring and
autumn migrations. The Bar-tailed Godwit, too,
is familiar only as a bird of passage, and although
its eggs have been obtained in Finland, little is
known of its breeding haunts. The Black-tailed,
on the other hand, now rarer on migration, is said
at one time to have nested, with more or less
regularity, in the fens of Norfolk and Lincolnshire.

The Redshank, although many which visit the
mud-flats are foreign-bred birds, nests in most of
the English counties. Its distribution is somewhat
local, but in most of the wider marshy expanses of
this country, one or two pairs, and often small com-
munities, may be found breeding. It is a greyish-
hued bird with long red legs, and usually makes
its presence known by its loud whistling cries as it
flies round and round the disturber of its solitudes.

The two kindred species, the Greenshank and the

424 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Spotted Redshank, are of much rarer occurrence,
the latter especially so.

One bird there is that still visits the coast in
passing, but in steadily decreasing numbers — the
Dotterel. At one time this bird, with its grey and
white head, and breast of chestnut and black, might
have been frequently found nesting on heathery
English mountains, especially in Westmorland
and Cumberland. But its disposition was singu-
larly confiding. When approached it merely moved
a few paces away and regarded the encroacher with
listless eyes. Thus, its feathers being in great
request for the manufacture of trout-flies, it grows
rarer year bv vear, and already in some of its once
most favoured haunts the " stupid " Dotterel exists
no more.

The Stone Curlew, too, is a summer migrant
whose visits appear to grow' rarer and rarer. It is
a large handsome bird of brown and black-streaked
plumage, and in formation has much of the char-
acter of the Bustards. At one time it was well
known on the Yorkshire wolds, also the haunts in
times gone by of the Great Bustard ^ — birds
which, we are told, resembled herds of fallow deer
in the distance, but which are now extinct in this
country. The Stone Curlew is still to be found
nesting in many waste places in England, especially
in Norfolk ; and as the lands become enclosed, it
not unfrequently takes up its residence in young
plantations. The eggs, two in number, of a pale

^ The admirable efforts of Lord Walsingham to re-introduce
the Great Bustard to Norfolk in recent years, appear to have
been frustrated by the murderous instincts of ignorant gunners.

i ^

BIRDS OF THE SHORES 42}

clav-colour spotted and streaked with brown, are
laid in a hollow scratched in the heath, or amidst
scattered stones. When the young birds are
approached, they crouch with their heads pressed
closely against the sand or shingle, and it often
becomes most difficult to distinguish them from
their surroundings.

As the winter's night falls on the sand-dunes,
the wind blows desolately ^ A little while before,
in the failing evening light, the great river might
be seen moving to the sea, its waveless tide flowing
drearilv through a desert of featureless mud.
Now the river is lost in the gloom, and nothing
can be made out save when some stray gleam
touches the ooze of the mud-flats. The tiny point
of light on some distant boat, which flickered for
awhile on the water, goes out, or is hidden by some-
thing intervening. All is darkness and silence,
broken only by the sigh of the wind and the
distant lapping of the sea on the stones.

Suddenly the scene changes. Far over the sea-
like waters of the river appears a long, narrow
golden line. Slowly it broadens, and soon golden
lines lie upon the mud-flats, waking them into
beauty. As the moon rises fully, a long shining
pathway stretches from the horizon, and across
this the night-feeding birds, sometimes singlv,
sometimes in hungry flocks, move like shadoAvs.

Soon a single IMallard beats across the dusk of
the sky : then a dark mass sweeps over the bents,
makinor for the distant edo:e of the river. In a little

j^ .^. ...^ ^.. v-v^j^

while a Redshank whistles and a Curlew cries in

428 EXGLISH BIRD LIFE

the gloom. As one turns to look for the last time,
the inky bird-figures are still moving in all
directions on the golden road.

Beyond the dunes, on the narrow margin of
shingle and sand which slopes to the sea, a little
bird may be seen running swiftly, and when
alarmed, rising with a soft piping cry, and alight-
ing again at no great distance. The Ringed
Plover is familiar here at all seasons of the year,
and it is rarely that one wanders about the sand-
dunes without catching a glimpse of the dainty
form as it follows the receding wave, or moves
feeding about the edges of the pools left by the
tide.

Against the smooth surface of the sand the
jet-black collar and white breast are at once con-
spicuous. But let the little Plover but run upon
the belt of shingle, and at once the eye searches for
it in vain. The pebbles, smoothed and rounded by
the sea, are of varied colours — brown, black and
pure white — and these match the hues of its
plumage so completely that the small area upon
which the bird rests must be examined with the
utmost care before a living thing can be detected.
Upon the shingle, in a slight depression without
nest of any kind, the four eggs, of pale buff
streaked with black, are laid; and these again
harmonize so truly w^th their surroundings, that
even when found, if the attention be averted for an
instant, they seem to sink into invisibility.

Open to every chance comer, without shelter or
protection of any kind, the eggs and nestlings owe

BIRDS OF THE SHORES 431

their security entirely to the curious fidelity with
\yhich their colours blend with those of the broken
sea-shells and the yariegated stones amidst which
they lie.

About the English coasts a smaller yariety of
the common Ringed Ployer is not unfrequently met
with, and these are often mistaken for the true
Little Ringed Ployer, a species of the rarest occur-
rence, of which only two or three well-authenticated
examples haye been recorded.

The Kentish Ployer, too, also occurs upon the
mud-flats, on rare occasions, on migration. It may
be distinguished from the Ringed Ployer by the
fact that the black band is not carried completely
round the breast. Always an uncommon yisitant
to this country, its range to the north does not
appear to extend beyond Yorkshire.

Two other species of coast-dwellers which are
essentially birds of the shingle and the rocks rather
than of the mud-flats, are the Turnstone and the
inappropriately named Oyster-catcher.

The former is remarkable inasmuch as it belongs
to a genus which contains one other representative
only : a North American species of much darker
plumage.

The Turnstone is a handsome bird, with black
throat and white breast, and with back and wings
yariegated black and rich chestnut, with a broad
band of white above the tail. In winter it occurs
in large flocks upon the English coasts, but many
are also met with throughout the year. It is a
noteworthy fact that althou^ih the Turnstone has

432 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

often been observed in full breeding plumage even
in June and July, its eggs have never been dis-
covered in any part of the United Kingdom.

Its usual breeding quarters are in the far
north, 'and the nest is placed upon some ledge
or recess amidst the rocks. The eggs are of a
greenish-grey ground colour, spotted with grey
and brown.

In the Shetlands the Turnstone may often be
seen feeding in little groups about the sea-weed
on the partlv submerged reefs.

L^nlike the Turnstone, the Ovster-catcher is not
only resident, but is a constant nesting species in
this country. Few birds, indeed, are more con-
spicuous on English coasts and estuaries than is the
beautiful Sea Pie. Its large size, clearly-defined
black and white plumage, and long sealing-wax-like
bill, taken in conjunction Avith its loud screaming
cry, constantly uttered when on the wing, renders
it a species impossible to overlook.

The eggs of the Oyster-catcher, three in number,
and of a pale buff, spotted and streaked with grey
and brown, are usually laid in a mere depression
in the shingle; but instances are given of their
occurrence in the deserted nest of the Herring Gull,
and in meadows at some distance from the sea.

28

BIRDS OF THE SEA

There is a salt vigour in the air, and as the hght
breeze sends our httle boat hissing through the
waves, the great sea-chffs cease to appear mere
barriers of misty whiteness and begin to take on
definite features. In many places the face of the
rocks are sheer, giving no foothold for even the
hardiest herbage, but elsewhere the grass grows
freely on the ledges, and on some of the gentler
declivities there are hollows and even broad terraces
of the tenderest green.

Already the birds are about us and the air is
filled with their varied cries. A\^hen still many
miles away, parties of Guillemots, in close forma-
tion, swept past the boat at times making for the
distant clift's. Now they may be seen in all direc-
tions riding on the heaving tide, the black and
white plumage of back and breast, and even the
rusty brown of the neck, clearly contrasting with
the green water. Save when the bows cleave
through some little group, they show small sign of
fear ; even then, they merely fly for a few yards,
with extended legs trailing through the water, and
alight again amidst their fellows.

Beneath the precipitous rocks of the great breed-
ing station the Guillemots are around us in countless
thousands, flying hither and thither like bees about

435

436 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

a hive, and in places almost darkening the face of the
sea. At the upper edge of the cliff, where the grass is
cropped to lawn-like smoothness by the sheep, a
rising Guillemot appears no larger than a swallow.
Below, lining every ledge and jagged projection,
the birds stand in close order, and their numbers
appear to suffer no diminution from the constant
succession which may be seen drooping from their
lofty resting-places to the surging waters far
beneath.

LIpon the ledges, often so narrow that the slight-
est tilt would appear sufficient to dislodge it, the
single, sharply pointed and disproportionately
large egg is laid. In this case the pear-shaped
formation fulfils a distinct use. The egg becomes
almost incapable of rolling, and if set in motion
merely revolves about the point. At the same time
the space afforded is often so slight that when the
Guillemots are suddenly alarmed, as by the firing
of a gun, their outrush frequently dashes the egg
clear of the ledges to the sea. No other British
birds' eggs show the great variation in colouring to
be observed in those of the Guillemots. The
average may be taken to be of a bluish-green,
blotched and streaked with black and rusty brown,
but infinite modifications occur, ranging from a
pale unspotted blue, almost a white, to the dark-
est umber, which is in some examples almost a
uniform black. The young are covered with hair-
like down, and, before they are able to fly, are borne^
by the parents to the sea beneath, where they at
once swim and dive freely.

At the end of August or beginning of September

BIRDS OF THE SEA 439

the Guillemots, almost with one accord, desert the
nesting rocks to make for the open sea, and during
the whole of the winter are rarely seen about the
coast. When the young birds have taken to the
wing, great numbers may be shot from a boat
anchored in their line of flight. Some years ago
a local gunner received an order from a London
firm for two thousand birds, to be sold, it was
stated, for " potted grouse." The required number
were secured in about fourteen days.

Nesting with the Guillemots and constantly
mingling with them in the water, are the Razor-
bills, at once to be distinguished by their broad
white-lined bills. In habits the two birds are
identical, but the latter are much less numerous
as a species.

The egg of the Razor-bill is shorter and less
pointed than that of its congener, and is frequently
laid in crevices difficult of access even for the
practised cliff-climber. It shows little variation in
colour, being usually of a dull white, spotted and
streaked with reddish- and dark-brown.

The Puflin, too, is one of the constant visitors
to the sea-cliffs. On every slope and grassy hollow
where a sufficient depth of earth may be obtained,
the bird digs out the narrow tunnel in which the
single white egg is laid. Sitting about the
entrances of their homes, resting with the Guille-
mots and Razor-bills on the ledges, sometimes
rising swallow-like against the blue sky, and again
drooping to the deeply heaving sea, they appear
to be ubiquitous. As they ride upon the green

440 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

water close at hand, now disappearing in the
holloAv, and now Hfted to the summit of the
rounded swell, the blue, red and yellow of the
curiously large parrot-like bill may be clearly seen.
The bill of the Puffin, indeed, is its most note-
worthy characteristic. In the winter the outer
sheath falls away, the colours become dim, and the
bill itself is found to be perceptibly smaller.

ALany gulls, too, screaming hoarsely, soar about
the cliffs, alighting on the more prominent ledges
and on every broken pinnacle of rock. The Kitti-
wakes are the most abundant, but numbers of
Herring Gulls are usually abroad, together wdth a
few pairs of Lesser Black-backs. The Black-
backed Gulls do not appear to nest upon these lofty
rocks, but at the other extremity of the bay, on
the slopes of the lower clav cliffs, thev form large
and thriving colonies.

The Kittiwakes, with their snowv heads and
breasts, delicate blue-grey mantles and black-tipped
wings, cluster close together on the shattered face
of the cliff, and on every inequality and slight pro-
jection which gives a holding, the tangled mass of
sea-weed which forms the nest, is lodged.

Like that of the Kittiwake, the mantle of the
Herring Gull is of a fine blue-grey, with wings
black tipped, but the latter bird may be distin-
guished at once by his larger size, and by the spot
of orange-red on his yellow^ bill. Again, the legs
of the Herring Gull are of a pale flesh-colour,
whilst those of the Kittiwake are a blackish-brown.

Many feathered visitors, not truly birds of the

Photo by C. Kirk\

KITTIWAKES

BIRDS OF THE SEA 443

sea, find a home in this vast barrier of chahv.
Xoisy grey-headed Jackdaws, their black plumes
contrasting with the snowy whiteness of the Kitti-
wakes, swarm about the crevices. Rock Doves,
like broad blue arrows, dart round the angle of the
cliff. Upon a grassy mound, undeterred by the
constant thunder of the surf below, a Rock Pipit
sits piping softly. Here, at one time, the croak
of the Raven might be frequently heard, as the
bird of ill-omen steered its straight course to the
nesting ledges, and even to-day the dark form
of the Peregrine mav still be seen, cutting the
blue air, as the mighty bird stoops from the sky
to its eyrie on the splintered rocks.

At intervals along the whole line of the British
coast, cliff formations occur, which, from vast areas,
draw the birds of the sea to their craggy breasts.
Of such are the famous Fame Islands, a group of
different elevations and of characters varying from
the shingles of the Sandwich Tern and the Oyster-
catcher, and the grassy holms of the Eider, to the
loftiest rock-masses beloved of the Razor-bills,
Guillemots and the Kittiwakes. Of such, too, is
the Bass Rock on the east, and .Vilsa Craig on the
west, the ancestral homes of the Gannets, and along
the coast-lines of the Outer Hebrides and of the
Shetlands, a thousand altitudes arise to which the
sea-fowl flock in their myriads as the seasons
revolve.

At the rock stations in the far north of Great
Britain many of the rarer birds of the sea, which
occur on the English coasts only at irregular inter-

444 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

vals, find either a settled resort or a regular summer
habitation for the rearing of their young. In the
Shetlands, for example, a number of the less
familiar species, mingling \vith hosts of the com-
moner forms, mav be seen in the course of a single
summer's day.

As one sails up the sunlit Voe, leaving the stiff
squares of potatoes and wheat and the little white
school-house on the mainland far behind, a grass}^-
topped island is reached. On the nearer side the
land slopes almost to the water's edge, but front-
ing the sea it rises in a sheer precipice five hundred
feet or more in height, at the base of which isolated
stacks and pinnacles of rock, splintered in innumer-
able strange forms, rise from the surf.

In every tiny bay and harbour which give partial
respite from the beat of the sea, little parties of
" Tysties," or Black Guillemots, are swimming to
and fro. The old birds, with their deep black
plumage and broad bar of white across the wings,
mav easilv be distinguished from the white-
freckled birds of the year even at a considerable
distance. Now one dives suddenly, and at times
may be seen literallv flying under Avater, the beat-
ing of the pinions having much more to do with
his propulsion than the strokes of his red-webbed
feet; now he appears again at some unlooked-for
place as though nothing had happened, and rises
erect in the water to beat the wave-drops from his
shining wings.

The Black Guillemot differs from others of its
race in that it lavs two eggs. These are of a white
ground colour, spotted and streaked with black and

BIRDS OF THE SEA 445

brown. They are laid in some recess or lateral
cleft in the cliff without semblance of a nest.
When the young are hatched the parent birds may
be seen constantly flying, with drooping red legs,
to the nesting-place, bearing tiny fish in their bills.

It has been said that when the little ones descend
to the sea the care of the parent ceases, and that
the young gather together in isolated companies.
I cannot believe, however, that this is invariably
or even usually the case; indeed I have many times
in August seen parties together which included
young birds plainly unable to fly.

Although the Black Guillemot is generally con-
fined to the northern parts of Great Britain, it
breeds occasionally on the English coasts, and is
known to occur as a casual visitor about the rocks
of Flamborough.

On the less exposed sides of the island the sheer
precipice falls away and its place is taken by
gentler declivities, where rank herbage grows
amidst detached boulders. Here, as well as upon
the isolated stacks and holms, the Great and the
Lesser Black-backed Gulls congregate, and here
their deep nests of dry grass may be found. The
eggs of both are usually three in number and are
of a drab or light-olive ground colour, blotched
with grey and dark-brown.

As he soars, snowy-breasted, against the blue
sky, the Great Black-backed Gull is a singularly
majestic bird : the largest of his race. His pow^er
is matched by his voracity, and not content with
fish or with the W'holesale destruction of eggs and

446 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

even of birds, he will fall upon the weakling lamb
on the hillside and rend it in pieces.

This island, too, is the home of the Cormorant
and the Shag, the latter, although generally rarer,
being here the more common. Far out on the
narrow, almost submerged skerry, where the marine
tangle rises and falls to the beat of the sea, we
see a row of motionless snake-like heads ; they are
all pointing silently upwards, as though unaware
of our presence, but in reality every keen emerald
eye is fixed upon the boat. To test this take a few
gentle strokes nearer. One by one, without undue
haste, they spread their big dark wings and fly
heavily with out-stretched necks to some distant
point. Others which have been disporting them-
selves around the rock raise their dark heads, and
with a singularly graceful curve of head and neck,
dive without a splash to come up far away, lying
low in the water like black piratical hulks, but with
watchful eyes turning hither and thither to see
that we have not stolen a march on them during
their temporary absence from the surface.

Beneath the water the Cormorants move with
marvellous celerity. It might well be thought that
a fish, in its native element, would readily escape
from the onslaught of a mere bird. But if by fortu-
nate chance, the Cormorant be seen in the crystal
depths of the rock-pool, this belief is dispelled for
ever. The long narrow black form appears sharp-
ened to the finest point. Propelled only by the
backward sweep of the webbed feet, turning like
lightning to right or left around the angle of the
rock or about the weeds, the black water-wolf

BIRDS OF THE SEA 449

pursues its quivering prey. In point of speed the
swiftest fisli appears to be hopelessly outmatched.
In a few seconds the relentless bill overtakes it and
it instantly disappears. Differing from many other
birds, the Cormorant does not rise to the surface
in order to swallow its captive. The American
Darter spears its victim with its needle-like bill, and
ascending, thrusts its head clear of the water and
detaches the fish with an upward movement of the
tongue, catching it again neatly between its man-
dibles directly it is free. But the insatiable voracity
of the Cormorant admits of no such delay. The
fish vanishes like a fly before a swallow, and with-
out a check in its speed the black hunter is again
in pursuit.

Both the Cormorants and the Shags breed in the
higher cliffs, their nests being formed mainly of
sea-weed and coarse grass. The three to five eggs
are covered with a white chalky material, rough in
texture, which appears to be superadded to the true
shell.

The Shag may be at once distinguished from the
Common Cormorant by its smaller size and gener-
ally greener hue. In addition, the adult male
Cormorant has a broad patch of white upon the
thigh, lacking in the Shag.

Leaving the island, with Great and Lesser Black-
backed Gulls and Herring Gulls innumerable fly-
ing around its rocky shores, we steer for the open
sea. Out in the west we see dimly three irregular
mountain peaks. These mark one of the chief nest-
ing stations in Great Britain, where on the craefs,

29

450 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

thirteen hundred feet high, the Wliite-tailed Eagle
makes its home, and on whose heathery slopes the
Great Skua, a race elsewhere now nearly extinct,
still thrives and breeds.

As we draw nearer to this mighty rock-wall
which appears to tower almost to the skies, and
against which the thundering surf creates a blind-
ing mist which perpetually obscures its base, the
Puffins and Guillemots are around us in thousands,
diving hither and thither and flying from the course
of the boat. Some little distance away a small
party of Arctic Terns are fishing. Light as gossa-
mer they hover around, and when they fly over us,
with beaks pointed to the water beneath, the bright
coral of their feet can be seen against their snowy
feathers. Now one shuts its wings, and, as though
its fair white form had been turned into marble
in very reality, dashes sheer into the waves. Un-
like the Gannet, however, it does not disappear,
but as the splash subsides, it is seen fluttering
upwards again with a tiny fish in its bill. As it
rises to join its companions in the air, wild cries are
heard — " tee-e-e rac, tee-e-e rac " — in every direc-
tion, and suddenly a swift dark bird sails into view.
Round and round the little white angler it darts,
until the latter drops its fish in terror, sometimes
even disgorging those already swallowed. Before
the prey can reach the water the pirate has seized
it with a sudden downward swoop, and is making
rapidly off. Over the heaving sea, across the
jagged line of foam which marks where the stead-
fast rocks parry the blows of the waves, he wends
his sombre way. Away to the right, the bulwark

BIRDS OF THE SEA 45i

of basalt, which elsewhere guards the island from
the rage of the Atlantic, dwindles to a mere boun-
dary line, and the brown heath comes nearly to the
water's edge. Here the evil-doer enters his owm
domain, and as though in subtle sympathy with
his crimes, the dim heathery ridges receive him
and shelter him from recriminating eyes.

The Great Skua is a bird of uniform brown plum-
age, with black bill and feet. A glance at the sharp
claws and powerful hooked beak shows it to be a
true bird of prey. It is the chief of the group of
Parasitic Gulls, living mainly on the fish caught
by the smaller races, but it nevertheless frequently
destroys the Terns and Kittiwakes themselves, and
has been seen in the act of killing a bird even so
large as the Herring Gull. The eggs, usually two
in number, are of a deep olive-brown streaked with
black, and the nest, formed of moss and heather,
is placed on the bare heath without shelter or con-
cealment of any kind. Indeed, the Great Skua
appears to rely entirely upon its native ferocity for
the protection of its home. When the breeding
haunts are approached the birds at once sweep
down upon the intruder, striking furiously with
wing and claw.

A second species, the Arctic or Richardson's
Skua, is much more widely distributed, nesting in
many localities in the north lands and constantly
occurring on migration about the English coasts.
It follows the larger race in its habits, being
essentially predatory and parasitic. The chief
characteristic of the Arctic Skua is that two distinct
forms occur — sometimes in the same nest— one

452 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

being of a uniform dusky hue, and the other having
the breast and under surfaces of a creamy
whiteness. The two varieties nest freely together,
and apart from the distinction in colour are in every
respect identical.

Two other species of Skua occur in England, the
Pomatorhine and the Long-tailed. The former
appears on the British coasts on migration only,
although sometimes in considerable flocks : whilst
the latter, the smallest of the race, is merely a rare
and casual visitor.

On the summit of the great cliff a dead level of
green extends, cropped by the rabbits to the smooth-
ness of a carpet, and with outer edge cut clean
off as with a knife. \\"hen we creep to the margin
on hands and knees and look down, we see dimly
through the mists the huge waves leaping against
the dull frowning barrier only to be hurled far
back in shattered spray, and yet so great is the dis-
tance that the sound of the conflict ascends as a
faint murmur only to the heights. Now a dark
bird darts past skirting the face of the clifif. The
pointed wings, the band of white on the back, and
the swallow-like flight give it something of the
appearance of a House ^Martin, but it is obviously
larger.

The Storm Petrel is one of the truest birds of the
sea, roaming at large over the wastes of water for
the greater part of the year, and visiting the shores
only for the purpose of rearing its young. The
nest, formed of a few stems of grass, is commonly
placed in the cleft of a rock, but is sometimes found

BIRDS OF THE SEA 453

beneath the boulders which strew the beach. A
single white egg is laid, and when the birds are
sitting they frequently utter a twittering sound
which leads to the discovery of their hiding-
place.

The smallest of British web-footed birds, the
Storm Petrel is the most intrepid of ocean wan-
derers. Undeterred by storm and tempest, it
follows the curve of the great rollers, when thou-
sands of miles from land, often standing with
outspread wings upon the water to seize its minute
prey. As it progresses it appears to run over the
waves rather than to fly, and from this habit its
name Petrel is said to be derived in refeience to
the walking on the water of the Apostle Peter.
Although Petrels are rarely killed by striking
against the lanterns of lighthouses, a fate which
overtakes so many birds when crossing the sea at
night, they none the less seem to be strongly
attracted by light, and frequently board the passing
ships in mid-Atlantic, when they appear to become
dazed and will permit themselves to be taken by
hand.

Of the four other species of British Petrel, the
Fulmar nests abundantly in certain of the more
remote islands of the north, especially in St. Kilda,
but in England it occurs only as a winter visitor;
the Capped, Bulwer's and Forked-tailed Petrels are
birds of one or two occurrences only.

Allied to the Petrels are the Shearwaters, a group
consisting of four species, the Manx, Great, Sooty
and Dusky. They also are birds of vast oceanic
range. The Manx Shearwater appears commonly

454 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

on the English coasts, nesting in several localities,
but the remaining three are of the rarest occur-
rence.

The Gannet is one of the most local of British
sea-fowl in the choice of a nesting station. In
England the only breeding site selected is on
Lund}^ Island; on the Scottish coast, including the
cliffs and rock-islands of the Hebrides, only five
stations are known. On these, however, the birds
congregate in vast numbers, and from these centres
they scour the seas in all directions in pursuit of
the fish on which they prey.

The nest is formed of sea-weed and grass, and
the single egg is white faintly tinged with blue.
Young Gannets are largely used for food, and
from two to three thousand birds are sometimes
collected from one station. W^hen the young are
hatched they are nearly black, but as the vears go
by they pass through various changes, their
mottled brown hues growing lighter and lighter,
until at length, in their sixth year, they attain full
adult plumage of pure white save for the tinge of
saffron yellow on the neck and the jetty blackness
of the wing-tips. It is a most interesting thing to
watch the movements of these sea-fowl when
engaged in fishing. Sometimes the calm face of
the sea is seen to be broken by a sudden ripple.
For a few moments an area of fifty yards or more
is stirred by the rushing of innumerable forms as
the vast shoals of herring are forced to the surface
by the inroads of hungry fish beneath. Billet,
dog-fish and a host of others follow the shoal. Now

BIRDS OF THE SEA 457

and then the dark shiny bulk of a porpoise is seen
revolving through the water, giving the casual
observer the impression that he is constructed on
the principle of a cart-wheel. If one sees him in
a fathom or more of clear water, however, this
view changes in a flash ; his long black form is
straight as an arrow as he darts hither and thither
in restless quest.

Above the shoal a group of sea-birds are hover-
ing, their white wings now and again flashing in
the sunlight. As one watches closely the light
airy forms of the little Arctic Terns can be easily
distinguished from the more steadily balanced and
slower winged Lesser Black-backed and Herring
Gulls which are eagerly scanning the water in their
wheeling flight. The Terns drop swiftly to the
sea when they sight their quarry, and then rise
instantly, fluttering upwards, leaving a dimpling
ring behind. The heavier Gulls swoop downwards
and often alight and float upon the surface before
attempting to regain the air. Then come fishers
bolder and more impetuous than any of these.
Sailing widely on their broad pinions the Gannets
appear. From great heights they hurl themselves
sheer into the water, the spray leaping upwards as
though from a falling stone; then they follow their
prey far in the deeps, often remaining for several
minutes beneath the surface. The herring owes
its immunity from destruction to sheer force of
numbers. When the shoal is beneath the surface,
the porpoise and other hungry sea-dwellers are
taking their toll ; W'hen it ascends and hisses along
the face of the water, the opportunity of a myriad

458 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

winged watchers overhead has arrived. In every
case it is death to the individual herring, but the
species still sails on, calm and strong in the strength
of indestructible quantity.

Of the two species of Auk — the Great and the
Little — once to be described as British, a pathetic
interest attaches to the former, inasmuch as it
represents a race which has now become extinct,
not only in Great Britain but in the world. At
one time it was probablv not uncommon in these
islands, for its remains have been found in the
sea-caves of Durham, in Caithness, Argyllshire,
and in several localities in Ireland. An expert
swimmer, the Great Auk was unable to fly, and
this drawback, taken in conjunction with a confid-
ing disposition, led to its wholesale destruction.
In Newfoundland, Great Auks were once so plenti-
ful that it is stated " they multiplied so infinitely
upon a certain flat Hand that men drave them from
thence upon a boorde into their boates by hundreds
at a time, as if God had made the innocency of so
poore a creature to become such an admirable
instrument for the sustentation of man."

In Iceland, too, the nesting Skerries were period-
ically visited, when great numbers of the birds were
carried away. Thus it came about that in 1844,
from a remote reef of rock known as Eldey, the
last pair of Great Auks were taken, and with
these this interesting species became exterminated.

Sixty-nine examples of the egg of the Great Auk
are believed to exist in various collections, and
when any of these chance to come into the market,

BIRDS OF THE SEA 459

sums amounting to several hundreds of pounds are
readily paid for a single specimen.^

The Little Auk — a link between the Guillemots
and the true Auks — is an Arctic breeding species
which commonly visits the English coasts in the
winter. In common with the Petrels it has a wide
oceanic range, and rarely seeks the land except in
the nesting season, or when driven thither by stress
of weather. Somewhat curiously for so true a bird
of the sea, it appears to suffer from the violence
of storms to an extent unknown to its congeners.
Frequently during heavy gales, numbers of Little
Auks are driven ashore and are found exhausted
on the beach ; and one constantly hears of examples
occurring far inland, even in such unlikely situa-
tions as the centre of a midland town.

The Little Auk lays its single egg of greenish-
white, faintly spotted with red, in crevices beneath
boulders or in rifts in the higher rocks. Although
the bird sometimes occurs in North Britain in
summer, no instance is recorded of the eggs having
been found in the British Islands.

Certain birds of the sea there are which, as spring
draw'S near, desert the salt water and the cliff's and
often travel far inland in search of a nesting haunt.
Of these the Black-headed Gulls are the most note-
W'Orthy. Their habit is to select some marshy
expanse to which they return year after year, form-
ing vast colonies. On every tussock and mass of
reeds the nests are placed in close proximity, and

1 The market appears to fluctuate, however, and of late the
prices realised have fallen off.

46o ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

few things in English bird life are more remark-
able than the sight of the myriads of white wings
beating the air together when the Gulls chance to
be disturbed. These colonies are so well known
and are so easily accessible that the preservation of
the species depends largely on the fostering care
of the owners of the domains. Fortunately for the
bird-lovers, the work of protection has hitherto
been done so effectively that the vast increase in
the numbers of the Black-headed Gulls has been
made a matter of complaint.

The Common Gull, too, although it nests fre-
quently on the low rocks of the sea-coasts, still
seeks the islands and shores of inland lakes in
order to rear its young. It is by no means so
common as its name would imply, and is rarely
seen in England except in the winter. The Com-
mon Gull resembles the Kittiwake in many respects,
but it may be distinguished by its larger size and
by the fact that the adult male has a red circle
about the eye.

Of the remaining species of Gull which are in-
cluded in the British list, the Cuneate-tailed, Bona-
partian, Sabine's, Little, Great Black-headed,
Glaucus, Iceland and the Ivory, all are of rare
occurrence, and several may be regarded as the
merest stragglers.

To the lochs of the far north, the Divers, too,
resort to nest. This small group, consisting of
three species, the Great Northern and the Black-
and Red-throated, are well and aptly named.
Divers they are essentially, every line of their

BIRDS OF THE SEA 461

graceful yet powerful forms being drawn with the
view of swift progression beneath the water. The
legs set far back, are broad, yet perfectly flat, and
when the webbed foot is drawn up preparatory to
the stroke, the narrow edge alone of leg and foot
is opposed to the element. As the foot descends
these broad surfaces are brought to bear upon the
water, and the bird shoots forward like an arrow
driven from a bow.

The Great Northern Diver, with the jet-black
plumage of his back and wings barred with regular
lines of pure white, is a conspicuously handsome
bird, the Black-throated being only slightly less
striking. Each of the three species is a true bird
of the sea, and both the Great Northern and the
Red-throated are frequently to be seen about the
English coasts in the winter. The Black-throated
is much rarer, but even he occurs at times in these
southern latitudes, his dark head raised from the
water ready to disappear at the first sign of danger.
The Great Northern Diver is not known to nest
in Great Britain, although birds in full breeding
arrav are sometimes to be met with in the Shet-
lands in the summer, but on certain of the grassy
islands of the more remote lochs, the Black-throat
is still to be found, and throughout the whole of
the north of Scotland as well as in the Shetlands,
the Red-throat is a regular nesting species.

A Highland Loch

For many miles the great loch winds through
the wildest and most mountainous scenery; yet

462 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

although the grey scarred crests rise on every hand
and are reflected in the pure water beneath, the
lower slopes of the hills and the margin of the loch
itself are clothed with soft woods and the greenest
vegetation. At the side of the still water we find
the desolation of the higher ground merging into
the gentlest pastoral beauty, and from a single
standpoint many birds may be seen whose habits
and associations are usually considered to be far
apart. In the green dells, amidst the leafy boughs
and springing flowers, we hear the Willow Wren
and the smaller warblers singing, whilst from the
bare screes above come the croak of the Raven,
and the scream of the Golden Eagle or Peregrine.

Many of the birds which St. John described as
belonging to this region in 1848 are still to be
found. The Ospreys which nested for so many
years on the ruined castle which still stands on the
peninsula have, of course, entirely disappeared,
but the Red-necked Phalarope, the Greenshank and
the Divers, as well as many of the larger birds
of prey, still haunt the old creeks and islets or the
rocky fastnesses of the cliffs.

One bird constantly hovering around the loch
is the Common Gull. About the small boulders
and stony points which project into the water, the
eye is sometimes attracted to a rough mass of sticks
and weed which might well be the debris left by a
falling tide. But as one draws near, the birds
hover and scream so loudly overhead, that one per-
force examines the tangle more narrowly. Here
in the deep hollow^ the two or three eggs, olive-
brown and spotted and blurred with black, are laid,

BIRDS OF THE SEA 463

or it may be that the grey mottled little ones will
make for the water and swim boldly into the open
with the old birds in anxious attendance.

Out on the loch, on the grass-grown islands, the
Terns gather, chiefly the Arctic, for in North
Britain the Arctic form largely takes the place of
the common variety so w^ell known on the English
coasts. The points of difference in the two species
are not very clearly marked, and by the earlier
writers the two birds were treated as identical.
The Arctic, however, may be distinguished by his
more slender form, longer tail-feathers, and by the
fact that on his coral-red bill the black tip is largely
lacking. Like the Common Tern, the Arctic makes
hardly the semblance of a nest, and the two to
three brown mottled eggs are usually laid in a mere
depression in the herbage.

If the island where the colony are nesting be
approached, the birds fly excitedly around the in-
vader, uttering their incessant cries, " tee-e-e rac,
tee-e-e rac," and like the Skuas, will at times
actually strike at him as they pass.

Of the other species of Tern, the Sandwich and
the Lesser, both nest in certain localities on the
shingle of the English coast as well as in Scotland,
whilst the remaining races, the Black, White-
winged Black, Whiskered, Gull-billed, Caspian,
Roseate, Sooty and Noddy, although examples of
all have been obtained in one or other part of Great
Britain, must be regarded as English mainly by
courtesy.

About one of the islands, flat and covered with
tall-growing vegetation, w^ith many little grassy

464 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

creeks and identations in its sides, the Black-
throated Diver mav sometimes be seen swimming,
now and again bending its slender neck and grace-
fully dipping its bill in the water. As the boat
draws slowly nearer, the bird makes no effort to
rise, nor, indeed, to increase the distance between
the enemy and itself. It merely sinks lower and
lower into the water until nothing is visible save
the lithe neck and dart-like head and bill, and in
a moment more, without any perceptible splash,
these, too, disappear. The face of the loch is like
a mirror, but one may look long before the low-
lying dark form appears again far off on the
surface.

Upon the island the Black-throat nests, and one
may trace the track through the crushed herbage to
the place where the two olive-brown and black
spotted eggs are laid. The conformation of these
true water-birds is such that their progression on
land is a slow and awkward process, and w^hen
approaching or leaving the nest they must fain
propel themselves, seal-like, through the grass with
breasts resting on the ground.

But even if the Black-throat is looked for in
vain, a sight of the Red-throat may be constantly
gained, especially about the smaller lochs hidden
in the folds of the hills. Wonderful fishers are
they, not keeping to their own domain, but know-
ing well the resources of every sheet of water in
the locality for many miles around. To a suitable
feeding-place they will come every day with the
most marked punctuality. One day I watched a
pair of Red-throats arrive at the loch from some

BIRDS OF THE SEA 465

distant nesting station. They dropped straight
into the water and instantly dived. In a few
moments they reappeared, and at once took wing
across the hills from whence they came. The hour
was 4.30 p.m. Every day during the time that I
fished there, never deviating by more than five
minutes from the appointed time, the pair came,
collected their prey in exacdy the same manner,
and again took their course across the same
hills.

In these Highland latitudes at mid-summer it
never grows really dark. After the sun sets be-
hind the rocky summits, the light is gradually
subdued ; the world grows more silent and peace-
ful, and the mountains seem to grow nearer and
to rest like gigantic shadows close at hand. Even
at midnight the colours of the flies on the angler's
cast can be distinguished, or the form of a Cur-
lew made out as it stands silhouetted against the
sky on a distant grassy mound. From the dim
crofts on the hillsides comes the monotonous " craik
— craik — craik " of the sleepless Landrail, and from
the wooded heights of the opposite shore one may
hear the faint cry of the fox or even of the wild cat,
a race now nearly exterminated.

At this season wild Nature is never at rest.
In the owl-light a wandering Gull still screams in
the air, or the dark form of a Cormorant wings its
sinister way across the loch. As night's meridian
is reached and turned, a nameless change comes in
the atmosphere. The shadowy mountains draw
back and their features become more defined. A
new, wan light rests on the upper slopes and the
30

466 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE

Twites and Wheatears begin to flit and twitter
around, aroused from their silence by the warning
of the coming day.

As we take our way home on the narrow moun-
tain road many birds are singing, and the new
hght is slowly spreading over the hills. In a
little glen a herd of' deer, startled by our approach,
run rapidly up the slope, and looking back. from a
long distance we can see them still watching us,
their antlered heads standing clearly out from,
amidst the bracken.

THE END

Richard Clay & Sons, Limited,

bread street hill, e.c., and

bungay, suffolk.

X

-O

0

t^-

^

CO

a:

'"t

cc

H-

c

0)

1—

.

a

Q

"

-<3

X

X

0)

05

"^

-v]

QL 690 .G7 H674 1908
Horsfield, Herbert Knight
English bird life

AMNH LIBRARY

100105534