Skip to main content

Full text of "Woodland creatures; being some wild life studies"

See other formats 


iSildir:^iiUii^'-^^--'^.i 


iiiiiiiiiiiiin 

3  100  640  440  7 


RSITY   LIBRARY 


ACC.  No 


^^Q.^^ 


Blacker 


DATE  DUE 


DUE 


RETURNED 


FORM  21IB  I  jD  REDPATH LIBRARY 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2010 


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


WOODLAND    CREATURES 

BEING 

SOME    WILD   LIFE  STUDIES 


Woodland  Creatures 


Being 


Some  Wild  Life  Studies 


By 

Frances   Pitt 

Author  of  "  Wild  Creatures  of  Garden  and  Hedgerow,' 
««  Tommy  White-tag,  the  Fox  " 


LONDON:   GEORGE    ALLEN   &  UNWIN  LTD. 
RUSKIN    HOUSE,     40     MUSEUM      STREET,     W.C.  i 


First  published  in  1922 


[4il  rights  reserved) 


PREFACE 

IN  this  book  are  given  notes  and  observations 
on  wild  creatures  that  may  be  met  with 
in  our  woodlands.  Some  of  them  live 
entirely  in  the  woods,  others  use  the  trees  as 
home  and  headquarters,  sallying  forth  from  their 
shelter  into  the  open  country,  but  all  may  be 
ranked  as  inhabitants  of  forest  and  coppice. 
That  certain  well-known  birds  and  beasts  are 
not  included  is  due  to  two  reasons:  several  have 
already  been  dealt  with  in  my  book  Wild  Creatures 
of  Garden  and  Hedgerow,  and  for  many  others 
there  was  not  space.  To  deal  with  all  the  birds 
and  mammals  that  may  be  met  with  in  the  woods 
would  need,  not  one,  but  many  volumes. 
However,  the  reader  will  find  herein  accounts 
of  a  number  of  our  "  Woodland  Creatures,"  some 
common  and  others  uncommon,  but  all  to  me 
equally  interesting,  for  in  fascination  and  charm 
the  wild  life  of  the  forest  districts  yields  to  none. 
Scientific  terms  have  been  avoided  as  far  as 
possible,  my  aim  being  to  give  a  plain  account 
in  plain  language,  but,  for  the  convenience  of 
those  who  wish  for  the  Latin  titles,  a  note  has 
been  inserted  at  the  end  of  each  chapter,  giving 


6  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

the  scientific  name  of  the  species  dealt  with,  its 
status,  and  distribution. 

The  chapters  on  "  The  Woodpeckers,"  "  The 
Fox,"  and  "  The  Bullfinch "  have  previously 
appeared  as  essays  in  the  National  Review  ;  those 
on  a  "  Creature  of  the  Night,"  "  The  Call  of  the 
Wild,"  the  "Common  Rabbit,"  and  "The 
Squirrel "  were  published  as  articles  in  the 
Badminton  Magazine ;  and  that  on  "  The  Dormouse  " 
came  out  in  the  Contemporary  Review ;  to  the 
respective  Editors  of  which  I  am  indebted  for 
their  kind  permission  to  reproduce  the  essays 
in  this  book.  I  must  also  acknowledge  the 
courtesy  of  the  Editor  of  the  Field,  in  allowing 
me  to  use  as  illustrations  three  photographs  of 
mine  that  have  appeared  in  his  paper. 

FRANCES   PITT. 


CONTENTS 


PREFACE     ...... 

CHAPTER 

I.     THE  BADGER — A  CREATURE  OF  THB   NIGHT 


II.  THE  WOODPECKERS 

III.  THE   DORMOUSE      . 

IV.  THE  BULLFINCH    . 
V.  THE   FOX     . 

VI.  THE  "CALL  OF  THE  WILD" 

VII.  THE  SPARROW   HAWK 

VIII.  THE   KESTREL 

IX.  THE   COMMON   RABBIT 

X.  BIRDS  OF  THE   NIGHT 

XI.  THE   SQUIRREL 

XII.  THE   MAGPIE  AND  THE  JAY 


PAGE 

5 


II 
36 
55 
75 
94 
119 

135 
157 

173 
194 
219 

239 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

A    BADGER    ROOTING    IN    THE    MUD    AT    THE    SIDE    OF   A    POND      . 

Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

BADGER    CUBS    SCRAPING   MOSS    OFF   A    TREE             .           .           .           .  20 

THE    BADGER    CUBS    PLOT    MISCHIEF 26 

DIANA    SNIFFING   ABOUT    FOR   GRUBS   AND    INSECTS        ...  26 

YOUNG   GREATER    SPOTTED    WOODPECKERS    (FIGS.    I    AND    2)       .  50 

DORMOUSE    CLIMBING 58 

DORMOUSE    ON   THE   GROUND 58 

ADULT   DORMOUSE   CLINGING    TO    A   TWIG 66 

FOUR   YOUNG    DORMICE 66 

DORMOUSE    AWAKE J2 

DORMOUSE   ASLEEP 72 

WAITING  :     THE      HEN       BULLFINCH     HAS       SETTLED      DOWN     TO 

WAIT    PATIENTLY    UNTIL    HER   MATE    RETURNS        ...  86 

THE    RETURN.      THE   MALE   BULLFINCH   AT    LAST   ARRIVES  .           .  86 

A    BEAUTIFUL   CREATURE THE   BRITISH   FOX          ....  102 

A  YOUNG    FOX 112 

THE  CUB  AT  FOUR  DAYS  OLD I20 

TOBY  AT  FOURTEEN  DAYS  OLD I20 

TOBY  AT  SIX  WEEKS  OLD I24 

TOBY  AGED  SEVEN  WEEKS I2i| 

9 


10  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

PAGE 

TOBY    AT    TEN    WEEKS    OLD 128 

TOBY    ON    THE    DOORSTEP  :    "  WHAT   SHALL   I    DO  ?  "     .           .           .  128 

THE  CUB  WHEN  THREE  MONTHS  OLD  :    "  WHAT  MISCHIEF  NEXT  ?  "  128 

RESTING   WITH    ONE   EYE   OPEN 128 

TOBY    HAVING   A    GOOD    ROMP    (FIGS.    I    AND    2)       .           .           .           .  I32 

TOBY   TEASING   SPITFIRE   THE    CAT I32 

THE   SPARROW    HAWK I44 

YOUNG   SPARROW    HAWK I54 

THE    KESTREL.       JIM    ON    THE   FIST I60 

TRAINED    KESTREL    ON    A    BOW    PERCH 168 

PORTRAIT    OF    JIM I68 

YOUNG    RABBIT.       LISTENING  ! I78 

"  THE    HAPPY   FAMILY  " I82 

TWO    LONG-EARED    OWLS 202 

HOOTER,    THE    TAME   TAWNY    OWL    (fIGS.    1    AND    2)      .           .           .  212 

THE    ENGLISH    SQUIRREL 222 

A    YOUNG    SQUIRREL 222 

THE    SQUIRREL.       OFF    TO    LOOK    FOR    ANOTHER    NUT      .           .           .  234 

THE    SQUIRREL.       CONTEMPLATION 234 


WOODLAND   CREATURES 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    BADGER— A    CREATURE   OF 
THE   NIGHT 

WILD  creatures  belong  either  to  the  night 
world  or  the  day  world,  for  those  that 
hunt  by  the  light  of  the  moon  rarely 
come  out  in  the  sunshine.  It  is  among  the 
creatures  of  the  dark  that  we  find  some  of  the 
most  interesting,  also  the  shyest  of  wild  animals, 
and  of  all  the  timid  beasts  there  is  not  one  which 
is  more  mysterious  and  elusive  than  the  badger. 
How  many  people  have  seen  a  wild  one  ?  Not 
many,  for  the  animal  seldom  ventures  to  leave 
its  deep  earth,  situated  in  some  lonely  dingle 
or  great  woodland,  until  night  has  really  come, 
and  it  is  home  again  and  far  underground  before 
there  is  any  hint  of  dawn  in  the  eastern  sky. 

The  badger  is  one  of  the  last  of  the  larger  wild 
animals  that  exist  in  any  numbers  in  the  British 
Isles.  It  is  really  wild,  it  lives  on  despite  all  that 
mankind  has  done  to  destroy  it.     The  red  deer, 

u 


12  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

the  fox,  and  so  on,  live  and  thrive  because  we 
let  them  do  so ;  they  provide  sport,  and  we  there- 
fore protect  them.  The  really  wild  animals  are 
those  which  are  never  protected,  yet  continue 
to  exist.  The  lesser  creatures  manage  to  hold 
their  own  because  they  are  small,  escape  notice, 
and  can  get  away  easily,  but  with  the  bigger 
species,  especially  the  carnivorous  ones,  it  has 
gone  very  hard.  The  last  few  hundred  years 
has  seen  the  wolf,  the  wild  boar,  and  the  beaver 
exterminated.  The  pine  marten  has  all  but 
followed  them,  being  now  found  only  in  a  few 
remote  districts,  such  as  the  Fells  of  the  Lake 
Country ;  the  wild  cat  seeks  a  refuge  in  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland ;  and  the  polecat's  last 
stronghold  is  in  the  Welsh  mountains  ;  yet  the 
badger,  with  every  man's  hand  against  it,  still 
exists  in  some  numbers  throughout  England, 
Ireland,  the  Lowlands  of  Scotland,  and  Wales. 
No  shadow  of  mercy,  let  alone  protection,  has 
ever  been  extended  to  it.  From  those  long  gone- 
by  days  when  wolves  and  beavers  made  their 
homes  on  our  hills  and  in  our  valleys,  up  to  the 
present  time,  it  has  struggled  grimly  and  gamely, 
against  great  odds,  for  mere  existence,  seeing  its 
neighbours  gradually  exterminated,  and,  though 
an  awkward,  ungainly  beast,  apparently  doomed 
to  follow  them,  has  by  reason  of  its  great  strength 
and  digging  powers  been  able  to  survive,  though 
with  lessened  numbers. 

In   former   times   the   badger   must   have   been 
exceedingly  plentiful,  for  the  word  "  brock,"  the 


THE    BADGER  13 

Celtic  name  for  the  badger,  forms  part  of  the 
title  of  so  many  villages — there  are  Brocktons, 
Brocklesbys,  etc.,  in  many  parts  of  the  country 
whence  badgers  have  long  since  vanished.  Yet, 
even  if  it  is  not  as  numerous  as  it  used  to  be,  the 
badger  is  by  no  means  scarce,  and  in  some  places 
it  is  increasing.  This  may  be  partly  a  result 
of  the  war,  the  keepers  having  had  something 
better  to  do  than  persecute  these  poor  inoffensive 
animals.  It  is  not  easy  to  find  out  the  true  state 
of  the  badger  population  in  a  strange  neighbour- 
hood, for  most  of  the  country  people  do  not  know 
that  there  are  such  creatures  about.  Those  who 
know  the  most  are  the  poor  badger's  most  deter- 
mined foes,  namely  the  gamekeepers,  rabbit- 
catchers,  and  earth-stoppers,  yet  these  men 
seldom  set  eyes  on  this  creature  of  the  dark,  which 
goes  about  its  work  so  secretly  and  silently,  never, 
or  hardly  ever,  getting  caught  by  the  rising  sun. 
At  the  present  time  the  badger  is  numerous 
throughout  that  part  of  the  country  that  was 
known  in  history  as  the  Welsh  "  Marches."  It 
loves  the  great  woodlands  and  the  wild  dingles 
that  lie  along  the  borders.  It  is  also  fairly 
common  in  the  Midlands,  and  in  many  other 
localities,  but  it  usually  prefers  well  -  wooded 
districts.  A  description  of  one  of  its  strong- 
holds may  be  taken  as  typical  of  many  others. 
This  earth  is  situated  in  a  large  wood,  a  remnant 
of  the  great  forest  that  once  extended  unbroken 
from  the  west  bank  of  the  Severn  into  the  heart 
of  Wales.     It  is  traversed  by  several  small  streams 


14  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

that  tumble  over  moss-grown  stones  and  boulders 
at  the  bottom  of  deep  dark  dingles,  where  few 
but  the  wild  creatures  ever  come.  In  the  very 
heart  and  centre  of  the  wood,  where  the  big  oaks 
seem  to  grow  taller  and  stronger  than  elsewhere, 
where  the  dingle  is  deeper  and  darker  than  ever, 
the  badgers  have  their  headquarters.  It  is  a 
lonely  spot,  the  dingle,  it  might  almost  be  called 
a  gorge,  is  clothed  with  a  thick  growth  of  brambles, 
bushes,  and  big  trees.  Oak,  ash,  and  many 
dark  yews  cling  to  its  steep  sides,  which  in  places 
fall  sheer  to  the  torrent  below,  where  the  rocks 
are  clothed  with  mosses  and  green  liverworts, 
and  over  which  only  the  dipper,  the  heron,  and 
the  otter  find  their  way.  The  last  named  only 
comes  now  and  again,  for  the  trout  in  the  brook 
are  very  small,  though  beautiful  little  fish,  daintily 
spotted  with  red  and  black. 

!*  The  greatest  disturbance  this  lonely  spot  knows 
is  when  hounds  come,  or  the  shooters  disturb 
it,  but  this  does  not  happen  more  than  twice  or 
thrice  during  the  season.  So  the  well-beaten 
paths,  which  traverse  the  thickets,  and  wind 
their  ways  up  the  sides  of  the  steep  banks,  do 
not  owe  their  smooth  surface  to  human  feet.  A 
little  knowledge  of  tracking  and  footprints  does 
much  to  solve  the  mystery,  for  in  the  soft  muddy 
places,  where  the  rainwater  has  collected  and 
formed  puddles,  are  the  pad-marks  of  the  creatures 
that  passed  in  the  night ;  there  is  a  small  narrow 
neat  footprint,  which  tells  where  a  fox  went  by, 
and  there  are  many  big  deeply  impressed  tracks, 


THE    BADGER  15 

which  the  novice  might  mistake  for  those  of  a 
heavy  dog,  but  the  hind  pad,  the  "  sole  "  of  the 
foot,  is  bigger  in  proportion  to  the  toes  than  is 
the  case  with  any  dog ;  besides,  where  the  trail 
is  very  plain,  one  will  see  that  the  owner  has  five 
toes  on  each  foot,  whereas  a  dog  has  only  four 
that  make  an  impression  in  the  mud.^  Once 
a  badger's  track  has  been  seen  and  recognized, 
it  can  never  be  mistaken  for  that  of  any  other 
animal.  Indeed,  to  learn  much  about  badgers 
one  must  study  their  trails  carefully,  so  as  to 
know  their  footprints  at  sight,  and  to  understand 
what  every  scratch  and  claw-mark  signifies.  One 
can  then  read  on  the  paths,  in  the  damp  earth, 
and  on  the  woodland  rides,  the  story  of  each 
night's  doings — how  a  wasps*  nest  was  raided, 
how  the  moss  was  turned  over  in  the  search  for 
grubs,  and  how  a  dead  rabbit,  left  by  that  blood- 
thirsty scoundrel  the  stoat,  was  turned  to  good 
account. 

In  the  wood  that  I  am  describing  one  can 
study  these  things,  for  there  are  badgers'  tracks 
on  all  sides  ;  they  have  their  well-used  paths, 
which  lead  chiefly  to  the  great  earth,  or  "  sett," 
which  is  situated  at  the  top  of  one  of  the  steep 
banks.  There  are  other  badger  earths  in  the 
covert,  but  this  is  the  stronghold,  the  ancient 
fortress,  of  the  tribe.  The  entrance  holes  are 
on  the  very  verge  of  the  bank,  which  drops  steeply 
to  the  stream  a  hundred  feet  below,  so  there  is 

'  The  fifth  toe  of  the  dog  is  the  little  "  dew-claw,"  which  is 
situated  too  high  on  the  leg  to  leave  an  impression  in  the  mud. 


16  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

no  great  accumulation  of  soil  outside  the  holes, 
for  it   rolls   down   the  bank   as   quickly   as  it  is 
scratched  out.     Thus  there  is  little  to  tell  of  the 
great  size  and  length  of  the  underground  passages, 
still   less   to   show   where   they   go   to.     The   one 
entrance    is    partly    hidden    under    some    bushes, 
blackthorn     and     spindle,     but     the     other     has 
nothing   to    hide   its   mouth.     Such   tunnels  they 
are  too  !     Great  holes,  fringed  round   with    roots 
from   the   neighbouring    trees,    their  sides   scored 
with    the    marks    of    the    badger's    claws,    and 
littered    about    with     the    fern    and    grass    that 
the   inhabitants   have   been   drawing   in   for  bed- 
ding.     This   earth   has   existed   for   many,   many 
years.     Generation    after    generation    of    badgers 
have  been  reared  in  it,  died,  and  given  place  to 
others  who  have  dug  and  delved  in  their  turn. 
Each  badger  has  done  its  bit  towards  extending 
the  chambers,  until  the  sett  must  be  an  under- 
ground maze.     By  the  way  "  sett  "  is  the  correct 
term  for  a  badger's  home,  which  should  not  be 
called    an    "  earth,"    though    the    latter    word   is 
much     more     descriptive.     The      stronghold     in 
question    is,    from    a    badger's    point    of    view, 
beautifully  situated,  for  it  is  in  a  layer  of  sand 
that  lies  between  the  clayey  top  soil  and  a  bed 
of  rock.     These  conditions  are  those  most  sought 
after  by  both  badgers  and  foxes  when  scratching 
out  a  home,  for  the  sand  is  kept  perfectly  dry  by 
the   overlying   strata   of   clay,    and   at   the   same 
time    it    affords    them    splendidly    easy    digging. 
Such  soil  for  a  badger  is  mere  child's  play,  and 


THE    BADGER  17 

with  its  great  strong  claws  it  can  burrow  in  it 
as  quickly  as  a  man  can  dig.  As  some  indication 
of  what  the  badgers  have  done  in  this  particular 
bank,  I  must  say  that  one  day  a  hunted  fox  took 
refuge  in  the  sett.  As  there  was  little  sign  of 
the  great  size  of  the  place,  a  terrier  was  allowed 
to  go  in.  It  was  heard  barking  a  long  way  under- 
ground. Willing  diggers  started  to  open  the 
hole,  and  dug  for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon.  Late 
in  the  evening  the  terrier  was  recovered  badly 
bitten,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  the  fox.  To 
cut  a  long  story  short,  digging  was  continued  for 
three  days,  a  large  piece  of  ground  was  cut  away, 
tunnels  upon  tunnels  were  exposed  running  in 
all  directions  through  the  sand,  the  terrier  could 
be  heard  first  in  one  place  and  then  in  another, 
and  there  seemed  no  end  to  it  all.  The  third 
night  the  attempt  was  given  up;  neither  fox  nor 
badgers  were  ever  dug  out,  so  that  the  only  result 
was  much  waste  of  time  and  labour.  This 
happened  some  years  ago,  and  now  one  can  hardly 
trace  where  the  attempt  was  made.  The  soil 
has  fallen  into  the  trenches,  the  kindly  ferns 
and  mosses  have  healed  the  scar,  and  all  looks 
as  it  did  before.  The  two  well-used  entrances 
testify  that  the  owners  are  still  living  in  it. 

Having  given  a  description  of  the  badger's 
home  and  its  surroundings,  it  may  be  as  well 
to  say  something  of  the  creature  itself.  It  is  a 
powerful  short-legged  animal  of  heavy  build,  a 
male,  or  "  boar"  as  it  should  be  called,  often  weigh- 
ing as  much  as  thirty   pounds,  the  female  being 

2 


18  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

somewhat  less.  Its  short  legs  and  long  snout 
rather  suggest  the  bear,  and  the  way  it  noses  about 
among  the  undergrowth  is  still  more  bearlike, 
but  this  resemblance  is  merely  superficial,  for 
its  nearest  relatives  are  the  stoat,  marten,  polecat, 
and  otter,  with  which  animals  it  is  grouped  in 
the  family  MustelidcB.  It  is  certainly  difficult  to 
realize,  when  one  looks  at  a  badger,  that  this 
big  heavy  animal,  some  three  feet  long,  with  its 
thickset,  not  to  say  clumsy,  body,  short  tail, 
hunched  back,  and  long  head  carried  low  to  the 
ground,  tiny  eyes  and  little  ears,  is  allied  to  the 
nimble  and  quick-moving  stoats  !  In  colour  there 
is  still  less  resemblance,  the  badger  being  clad  in 
a  long,  thick,  rough  coat  of  grey  fur,  its  legs  and 
stomach  being  black,  its  head  striped  with  black 
and  white,  and  its  tail  white.  A  more  start- 
ling scheme  of  markings  one  could  not  meet 
with.  The  black,  white,  and  grey  are  as  notice- 
able as  an  advertisement  on  a  hoarding,  or  the 
conspicuous  colours  of  a  wasp  that  wishes 
to  remind  all  the  world  that  it  can  sting. 
Many  creatures,  especially  insects,  wear  warning 
colours,  thereby  letting  their  enemies  know  what 
they  are,  and  that  it  will  be  better  to  leave 
them  alone.  Among  mammals  the  skunk  is  the 
best  known  example:  it  is  most  conspicuously 
marked  with  black  and  white;  it  advertises  "let 
me  alone"  as  plainly  as  possible;  its  black  and 
white  uniform  reminds  other  creatures  of  the 
awful  smell  it  can  emit  when  interfered  with, 
and  they  let  it  pass  by  in  peace.     The  badger, 


THE    BADGER  19 

however,  has  no  such  means  of  defence,  though 
it  has  exceedingly  strong  jaws  which  make  other 
animals  loath  to  interfere  with  it.  There  is  no 
animal  that  can  inflict  a  worse  bite  than  this 
one.  The  lower  jawbones,  the  mandibles,  work 
in  such  deep  grooves  where  they  are  hinged  to 
the  skull,  that  they  cannot  be  dislocated.  I 
have  a  skull  that  was  picked  up  by  a  stream 
where  it  had  long  been  exposed  to  wind  and 
weather,  and,  even  now,  one  would  have  to  break 
some  part  of  it  to  detach  the  lower  jaw  from 
the  upper.  Another  peculiarity  of  the  badger's 
skull  is  the  strong  bony  ridge  (sagittal  crest) 
that  develops  along  the  brain-case  of  adults. 
The  result  is  that  an  old  badger  can  take  tremen- 
dous blows  on  the  head  and  not  be  any  the 
worse !  It  is  also  well  armoured  about  the 
body,  especially  the  neck  and  shoulders,  where 
its  hide  is  so  thick  that  it  is  difficult  for  any  foe 
to  get  a  grip  of  it.  Its  one  weak  spot  is  the 
chest,  but  it  keeps  its  head  low,  so  that  this  is  well 
guarded.  One  sometimes  sees  pictures  of  badgers 
with  their  heads  up  and  their  mouths  open,  as  if 
snarhng  defiance  at  all  and  sundry,  but  nothing 
could  be  more  misleading  or  unlifelike.  The 
badger,  of  all  animals,  keeps  its  mouth  shut  when 
it  means  business.  When  it  finds  itself  in  diffi- 
culties it  backs  into  a  corner,  drops  its  nose  between 
its  paws,  and  keeps  a  keen  look-out  with  its  sharp 
little  eyes — then  woe  to  any  creature  that  comes 
too  near;  the  head  flashes  out,  the  great  jaws 
crunch,  and  the  foe  has  received   a  bite   it  will 


20  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

not  forget  in  a  hurry  !  But  the  badger  only  acts 
on  the  defensive:  it  is  a  most  peaceable  creature; 
it  lives  and  lets  live,  and  never  goes  out  of  its 
way  to  assail  others.  This  brings  us  back  to 
the  meaning,  if  any,  of  its  peculiar  coloration. 
I  think  the  conspicuous  markings  serve  as  a 
warning,  but  I  must  add  that  under  certain  con- 
ditions they  may  help  to  hide  the  animal.  At 
first  this  seems  impossible;  one  would  expect  the 
badger  under  all  circumstances  to  show  up  like 
"  a  bar  of  soap  in  a  coal-scuttle,"  but  it  should 
be  remembered  that  it  is  a  strictly  nocturnal 
animal,  and  in  a  state  of  nature  never  ventures 
out  during  the  daytime,  and  that  markings  which 
are  very  easily  seen  in  the  sunlight  may  have 
quite  a  different  effect  by  moonlight.  This  was 
brought  home  to  me  when  I  was  exercising  a 
tame  badger  one  evening.  I  lost  sight  of 
"  Diana,"  and  could  not  see  her  anywhere.  I 
began  to  wonder  where  she  had  gone  to,  when 
she  moved,  and  I  saw  she  had  been  close  beside 
me  all  the  time,  but  in  the  fading  light  her 
markings  blended  well  with  lights  and  shadows 
in  the  bushes. 

Diana  Muggins,  to  give  her  her  full  name,  was 
brought  to  me  as  quite  a  young  cub  by  a  keeper 
who  had  trapped  her  at  the  mouth  of  the  big  sett 
which  has  been  described.  A  week  later  he 
brought  her  sister,  which  cub  received  the  title 
of  Jemima  Muggins.  How  they  got  such  names 
I  do  not  know;  some  one  christened  them,  and 
the   names   stuck.     Having   got   over   the   abject 


•/-.#.• 


'^-^ 


X 
u 
oi 
< 


1 

^ 

sR5 

f«^^  • 

■t 

1 

#!>' 

■ 

1^ 

r 

THE    BADGER  21 

fear  that  she  showed  during  the  first  two  or 
three  days,  Diana  quickly  became  tame — she 
soon  found  out  that  I  was  a  friend,  and  would 
follow  me  wherever  I  went ;  but  Jemima  had 
had  another  week  of  freedom,  and  nothing  I  could 
do  would  quite  allay  her  suspicions  of  the  human 
race,  especially  such  people  as  she  had  not  seen 
before.  When  the  cubs  were  caught  they  were 
probably  between  six  and  eight  weeks  old,  for 
their  teeth  were  well  developed,  and  they  could 
eat  anything  that  was  given  them.  As  I  got 
them  early  in  May,  this  places  their  birth  at  the 
beginning  of  March,  which  is  about  the  usual 
time  for  young  badgers  to  arrive.  I  have  known 
of  cubs  being  born  at  the  beginning  of  February, 
but  this  was  unusually  early. ^ 

I  was  saying  that  my  two  cubs  had  well-grown 
teeth,  which  at  first  they  used  freely,  but  this 
undesirable  habit  was  soon  overcome,  especially 
in  the  case  of  Diana,  who  developed  rapidly  into 
a  most  charming  pet.  She  soon  learnt  to  follow 
as  well  as  any  of  the  dogs,  and  would  go  for  quite 
long  walks,  even  through  the  woods,  without 
ever  straying  off  or  getting  lost.  When  she 
found  she  was  being  left  behind  she  would  cry 
and  whimper  most  piteously,  so  that  I  had  to 
wait  for  her  to  catch  me  up.  Several  times  on 
a  summer  evening  I  have  heard  exactly  the  same 
baby    outcry    in    the    woods,    and    mingled    with 

'  Mr.  A.  H.  Cocks,  in  the  Zoologist  of  1904,  showed  that  badger 
cubs  are  invariably  born  between  the  middle  of  February  and 
the  end  of  March. 


22  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

it  the  short  gasping  grunt  of  an  old  badger,  so 
that  I  feel  convinced  the  mother  allows  her  cubs 
to  follow  her  on  her  rambles.     Moreover,  I  have 
often  found  big  and  little  tracks  mingled  on  the 
pathways  and  where  the  badgers  are  in  the  habit 
of    crossing    a    small    stream.     One    can    picture 
the  family  party  setting  forth  through  the  dim 
mysterious   woods,   the   sow   jogging   steadily   on, 
while  the  lively  youngsters  race  and  romp,  stop- 
ping now  and  again  to  nose  among  the  moss  and 
ferns,    then   finding   themselves   left   behind,    and 
thereupon  raising  that  outcry  which  I  have  heard 
echoing   through   the   trees   on   a   sum.mer   night. 
Diana  most  certainly  never  took  any  chances ; 
if   she   lost   sight   of   me   for  but   a   moment   her 
squalls  rent  the  air,  when  I  had  generally  to  go 
back  to  her  and  make  her  come  along.     If  tired, 
she  would  stand  up  on  her  hind-legs  and  paw  at 
my  skirt,  until  I  picked  her  up  and  carried  her. 
This  was  all  right  while  she  was  fairly  light,  but 
she    grew    so    fast    and    developed    so    amazingly, 
that   I   soon  found  her  far  too  heavy  to   carry. 
It  is  no  joke  to  nurse  a  three-parts  grown  badger, 
of  that  I  can  assure  my  readers  !     The  cub  had 
one  very   annoying  trick,   of  which   I   was  never 
able  to  break  her.     If  I  stopped  to  talk  to  any- 
one, and  she  could  not  get  my  attention,  if  pawing 
and  scratching  would  not  make  me  pick  her  up, 
she  would  delicately  pinch  me  in  the  calf  of  the 
leg  !     She  never  really  hurt,  it   was  the  gentlest 
of  nips,  but  it   was  very  startling ;    in   fact,  she 
never  failed  to  make  me  jump.     I  always  thought 


THE    BADGER  23 

that  she  enjoyed  the  joke,  though  I  failed  to  see 
where  the  fun  came  in  ! 

When  taken  indoors  Diana  preferred  sitting 
in  one  particular  arm-chair,  but,  if  she  could  not 
have  it,  she  would  run  round  the  room  until  she 
found  me,  when  she  jumped  into  my  lap.  Though 
heavily  built,  and  somewhat  ungainly  in  appear- 
ance, she  was  extraordinarily  nimble.  She  could 
keep  pace  with  any  of  the  smaller  dogs,  and 
enjoyed  great  games  with  them.  Jemima  never 
joined  in  these  romps;  for  one  reason  I  was  rather 
afraid  to  trust  her  loose,  as  she  was  very  nervous, 
but  Diana  was  quite  different.  She  knew  no 
fear ;  she  would  gallop,  play,  and  roll  about  with 
them  as  long  as  they  liked.  Her  first  intimation 
that  she  was  ready  for  a  game  consisted  in  putting 
every  hair  on  her  body  on  end,  so  that  she  looked 
twice  her  normal  size,  when,  if  the  dog  took  no 
notice  or  did  not  understand,  she  would  give  a 
snort  and  charge  straight  at  it,  as  did  the  knights 
at  their  foes  in  the  "  days  of  old."  The  unfortu- 
nate dog,  being  caught  "  amidships,"  was  usually 
knocked  head  over  heels,  but  terriers,  spaniel, 
and  retriever  alike  all  took  her  rough  treatment 
in  good  part.  They  just  picked  themselves  up  and 
rushed  upon  her  in  her  turn.  The  two  would  then 
roll  over  together,  after  which  they  would  gallop 
and  roll,  gallop  and  roll,  until  they  had  no  breath 
left,  and  had  to  stop  from  sheer  exhaustion. 
When  neither  could  go  on  any  longer,  Diana 
would  waddle  slowly  back  to  me,  her  pink 
tongue  hanging  out,  and  look  up  at  me  with  her 


24  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

cunning  black  eyes  as  if  to  say,  "  Do  pick  me  up ; 
I'm  so  tired  !  " 

The  cub  always  showed  her  emotions  through 
her  fur.  When  frightened  she  fluffed  her  tail 
out,  when  either  angry  or  joyously  excited  she 
put  her  whole  coat  on  end,  and  when  hunting 
for  eatable  morsels  among  the  grass  and  herbage, 
ripples  kept  running  up  and  down  her  back. 

As  regards  food,  they  were  not  at  all  par- 
ticular, they  would  eat  most  things,  but  as  a 
treat  there  was  nothing  they  liked  better  than 
good  fruit  cake.  Next  in  order  of  their 
preference  came  cheese,  which  they  much 
appreciated,  but  in  this  they  were  not  peculiar, 
for  many  wild  creatures  love  it.  Such  different 
animals  as  the  shrew,  mole,  and  pine  marten 
will  eat  it  greedily.  The  two  cubs  lived  princi- 
pally on  dog-biscuit  and  bread  soaked  in  milk, 
varied  now  and  again  with  rabbit  flesh ;  this  kept 
them  in  splendid  health  and  condition,  but  I 
have  always  found  badgers  do  well  on  such  a 
diet.  They  were  thirsty  creatures,  and  their 
water-tin  had  to  be  filled  every  morning.  When 
out  for  walks  they  would  eat  with  relish  a  certain 
pale-coloured  fungus  of  the  "toad-stool"  descrip- 
tion. Diana  also  loved  frogs,  hunting  them 
through  the  long  grass  until  she  could  get  near 
one,  when  she  would  pounce  upon  it  and  crunch 
it  up.  Both  the  cubs  enjoyed  fish,  and,  as  there 
were  a  lot  of  roach  in  one  of  the  ponds  by  the 
house,  my  brother  often  caught  some  for  them. 
They    ate    the    fish    greedily,    snatching    at    the 


THE    BADGER  25 

silvery  morsels,  and  shouldering  each  other  off 
while  keeping  the  treasure  between  the  fore-feet. 
In  fact,  they  behaved  rather  like  pigs  at  the 
feeding  trough !  Another  thing  of  which  they 
were  very  fond  was  carrion,  such  items  as  a  semi- 
putrid  rat,  or  a  decidedly  high  rabbit,  being 
eaten  with  the  greatest  relish.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  the  wild  badger  is  a  great  scavenger,  eating 
almost  anything  that  comes  in  its  way.  It  is 
no  hunter — it  seldom  catches  prey  for  itself;  its 
very  tracks  show  one  that.  It  just  blunders 
along  anyhow,  and  cares  not  a  jot  who  hears 
it  coming. 

The  badger  is  a  great  insect  eater,  being 
especially  fond  of  wasp  grubs.  Its  handiwork 
is  easily  recognized,  for  after  it  has  raided  a  wasps' 
nest  there  will  be  very  little  of  that  colony  left. 
It  does  not  matter  how  deep  the  nest  may  be, 
the  badger  will  dig  straight  down  and  uncover 
it,  and  then  scrape  out  the  whole,  devouring 
comb,  grubs,  paper  covering  and  all !  There  is 
nothing  left  the  following  morning,  save  a  few 
angry  insects  buzzing  round,  in  wait  to  wreak 
their  vengeance  on  the  first  comer.  Badgers 
must  be  nearly  if  not  quite  invulnerable  to  their 
stings,  for  no  nest  is  too  large  or  powerful  for 
them  to  attack.  I  have  often  seen  instances  in 
the  late  autumn,  when  the  wasp  colonies  have 
grown  big  and  strong,  where  they  have  partly 
eaten  a  nest  one  night,  and  had  to  return  the 
following  evening  to  clear  it  up,  but  the  second 
night  there  would  not  be  a  rnorsel  left,     Badgers 


26  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

are  also  very  fond  of  "  bumble  "-bees'  honey, 
and  these  insects  receive  scant  mercy  from  them. 
With  their  keen  noses  they  search  out  the 
nests  that  lie  hidden  among  the  herbage,  and 
then  make  short  work  of  the  contents,  for  they 
care  nothing  for  what  the  bees  may  do;  that  fur 
coat  and  thick  hide  which  was  impervious  to  the 
stings  of  the  energetic  wasps  is  even  more  efficient 
as  a  defence  against  the  less  active  humble-bees. 
One  day  I  found  a  bees*  nest,  belonging  to  a  species 
that  heaps  shredded  leaves  over  its  pile  of  cells, 
that  had  been  raided  overnight,  but  the  badgers 
had  left  one  or  two  cells  uneaten,  and  these  the 
surviving  bees  were  at  work  upon.  Within  a 
day  or  two  the  plucky  insects  had  reconstructed 
their  home,  but  alas !  three  weeks  later  the 
badger  revisited  the  spot,  and  this  time  left 
nothing !  ^.^^ 

Badgers  also  eat  a  goodly  number  of  beetles, 
as  one  may  judge  from  the  wing-cases  you  see 
in  their  droppings.  My  cubs,  moreover,  were^ 
partial  to  earth-worms,  and  I  cannot  doubt  that 
a  badger  will  eat  almost  anything  that  comes 
in  its  way.  They  certainly  dig  out  and  devour 
any  nestfuls  of  young  rabbits  that  they  may^ 
chance  to  sniff  out,  but  in  most  districts  this 
is  a  point  rather  in  their  favour  than  otherwise. 
Keepers,  of  course,  assert  that  they  do  great 
damage  to  game,  and  I  do  not  doubt  that  a  badger 
would  demolish  eggs  if  it  chanced  across  them, 
but  in  a  district  where  game  is  plentiful,  and 
badgers   numerous,    I    have   never   met   with    an 


I.  thp:  badger  cubs  plot  mischief. 

2.    DIANA    SNIFFING    ABOUT    FOR    GRUBS    AND    INSECTS. 


THE    BADGER  27 

instance  of  interference  with  either  pheasants  or 
partridges,  which  is  more  than  I  can  say  for  our 
friend  the  fox  !  The  worst  that  I  have  known 
badgers  guilty  of  is  taking  rabbits  out  of  snares, 
leaving  merely  the  skins  turned  neatly  inside 
out.  Even  at  this  they  are  not  so  tiresome  as 
foxes.  A  fox  will  go  round  the  "  wires,"  eat 
half  one  rabbit,  bite  the  head  off  the  next,  spoil 
the  third,  and  so  on,  but  the  badger  eats  one  or 
two  and  leaves  the  rest.  The  sign  of  its  work 
is  the  skins  turned  inside  out,  it  is  wonderful 
how  neatly  it  does  this,  the  accomplishment 
being  quite  its  own.  Probably  the  tiny  birds, 
such  as  the  willow  wren,  robin,  and  others  that 
nest  upon  the  ground,  suffer  most  from  the 
badger.  Their  young  ones  remain  from  ten  to 
fourteen  days  helpless  in  the  nest,  and  are  tempt- 
ing morsels  for  any  hungry  brock  that  is  nosing 
round.  It  also  accounts  for  many  nestfuls  of 
young  field-voles,  being  one  of  the  creatures  that 
help  to  keep  down  this  prolific  little  rodent.  The 
badger  is  said  to  be  very  fond  of  hedgehogs,  but 
I  have  never  found  any  evidence  in  support  of 
this,  though  hedgehogs  abound  here,  and  any 
badger  that  was  so  disposed  could  find  as  many 
as  it  wanted.  It  has  also  been  asserted  that  it 
is  very  partial  to  the  roots  of  the  wild  arum  or 
"  Lords  and  Ladies "  {Arum  maculatum) ,^  but 
again  I  cannot  confirm  this.  The  plant  is 
particularly  abundant  in  Shropshire,  yet  the  only 

•  Mr.  L.   C.   Hocking,  in  a  letter  to  Wild  Life,  vol.  vi.  No.  4, 
p.   125. 


28  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

instances  in  which  I  have  found  it  scratched 
up  were  due  to  wasps'  nests  beneath  its  roots  ! 
However,  I  have  known  a  badger  eat  crocus 
bulbs,  which  came  about  in  this  way:  I  had 
had  for  some  time  a  badger  called  Grumps,  but 
he  was  a  surly  unsociable  creature,  and  I  turned 
him  loose  in  the  woods,  thinking  when  I  did  so 
that  I  had  said  "  good-bye "  to  him.  Some 
six  months  later  strange  tales  crept  about  con- 
cerning some  animal,  kind  unknown,  that  night 
after  night  was  digging  up  the  bulbs  planted  in  a 
neighbour's  garden.  It  appeared  that  the  gardener 
had  been  planting  a  quantity  of  crocuses  and 
other  bulbs  in  the  grass,  using  for  the  purpose 
an  instrument  that  removed  a  little  piece  of  sod, 
which  was  afterwards  dropped  back  on  to  the 
top  of  the  bulb  like  a  cork  into  the  neck  of  a  bottle  ; 
but  each  night  the  mysterious  animal  came, 
drew  these  corks,  and  ate  the  bulbs.  The  keeper 
was  called  in,  pronounced  the  tracks  to  be  those 
of  a  badger,  and  traced  the  culprit  to  a  big  drain 
in  the  meadow.  The  pipes  were  soon  pulled  up, 
the  bulb-eater  secured,  and  placed  in  a  bag,  when 
the  keeper  lost  no  time  in  bringing  it  to  me. 
The  badger,  a  fine  male,  was  turned  out  in  a 
building,  when  I  was  startled  to  see  that  it  was 
my  old  friend  Grumps.  It  walked  with  a  slight 
limp,  as  did  Grumps,  it  had  a  white  mark  on  its 
left  fore-paw,  just  as  he  had,  moreover  it  knew 
where  it  was,  and  did  not  seem  in  the  least  put 
out  of  the  way.  Next  day  I  took  him  to  the 
great  sett  and  turned  him  into  that  stronghold. 


THE    BADGER  29 

He  vanished  down  one  of  the  entrances,  and 
that  was  the  last  I  saw  of  him.  It  was  here  that 
Jemima  Ukewise  came  to  join  her  wild  relatives, 
for  one  evening  Diana  felt  the  "  call  of  the 
wild "  and  vanished  into  the  twilight  never 
to  return,  so  that  the  unfriendly  Jemima  was 
left  alone,  whereupon  I  decided  to  give  her 
liberty,  and  took  her  to  the  big  woods,  to  rejoin 
her  clan,  where  I  hope  they  all  lived  long  and 
merrily. 

Perhaps  Grumps  met  here  an  old  acquaintance, 
for  while  living  with  me  he  had  had  the  com- 
panionship of  a  fine  female  badger,  which  badger 
escaped  one  night  and  left  him  behind.  They 
were  kept  in  a  building  that  had  originally  been 
a  pigsty,  and  had  walls  four  feet  high,  on  the 
top  of  which  a  fence  of  upright  iron  bars  had 
been  placed,  the  whole  being  quite  eight  feet 
in  height.  The  bars  were  only  an  inch  apart, 
so  it  was  impossible  for  anything  to  squeeze 
between.  The  place  was  roofed  over  by  strong 
wire  netting  resting  on  iron  cross  pieces;  in  fact 
it  appeared  quite  badger  proof,  but  it  was  not ! 
For  several  nights  beforehand  the  wild  badgers 
had  been  visiting  the  place,  for  each  morning 
there  were  fresh  muddy  footprints  on  the  door, 
showing  how  they  had  tried  in  vain  to  reach 
those  inside.  Then  there  came  a  morning  when 
there  were  even  more  padmarks  than  before, 
the  strangers  must  have  spent  the  greater  part 
of  the  night  there,  and  they  had  not  gone  away 
alone,  for  there  was  a  hole  in  the  wired  roof,  and 


30  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

a  wisp  of  coarse  grey  fur  left  on  the  top  of  the 
paUng.  Somehow  or  other  the  female  badger 
had  managed  to  scramble  up  and  force  her  way 
through,  but  it  was  always  a  mystery  to  me  how 
she  managed  it.  One  of  the  farm  labourers  went 
so  far  as  to  say  the  wild  badgers  must  have  got 
on  the  roof  of  the  pigsty  and  helped  her  out !  At 
any  rate  she  eloped  with  them  and  left  Grumps 
behind  ! 

This  female  had  been  sent  to  me  from  the  south 
of  England,  and  soon  after  her  arrival,  during 
the  first  week  in  February,  a  feeble  squeaking 
arose  from  her  sleeping  compartment.  Knowing 
that  the  cubs  would  not  live  long  if  interfered 
with,  I  padlocked  the  outer  door,  and  only  went 
in  when  necessary  to  give  her  food  and  water, 
but  the  precautions  were  in  vain.  In  a  few  days 
all  became  quiet,  and  when  I  did  venture  to  look 
inside  not  a  vestige  of  a  cub  was  to  be  seen. 
She  must  have  eaten  them,  a  fate  that  so 
often  overtakes  babies  of  the  wild  when  born 
in  captivity. 

Hoping  the  old  lady  would  settle  down  better 
if  she  had  a  companion,  and  possibly  mate  with 
him  later  on,  I  moved  Grumps  into  the  place 
where  she  lived,  with  the  result  given  above. 

There  is  some  doubt  as  to  when  wild  badgers 
mate,  but  my  opinion  is  that  September  and 
October  is  the  usual  time,  the  cubs  arriving  in 
the  following  February  or  March,  but  there  are 
some  well-authenticated  cases  of  female  badgers 
having    young    after   being    over    twelve    months 


THE    BADGER  31 

in  captivity,^  and  in  two  instances  after  fifteen 
months'  solitary  confinement,^  but  these  cases  are 
almost  certainly  abnormal  and  due  to  captivity. 
Though  badgers  are  somewhat  silent  animals, 
they  become  noisy  enough  when  the  all-important 
business  of  choosing  a  mate  is  undertaken,  and 
will  then  make  the  night  ring  with  their  clamour. 
There  was  one  evening  which  I  shall  never  forget 
(September  12,  1920),  for  the  badgers  held  a 
great  concert  that  night.  I  went  out  about 
9.50  p.m.  to  shut  a  dog  up;  it  was  a  still  beautiful 
evening,  there  was  no  moon,  and  it  was  very  dark. 
I  stood  for  a  moment  listening  to  the  owls,  which 
were  hooting  on  all  sides,  their  calls  ringing  very 
loud  in  the  stillness.  Suddenly  there  was  a 
blood-curdling  shriek,  a  piercing,  agonizing  cry, 
which  was  repeated  at  intervals  of  a  few  moments. 
Even  by  day  it  would  have  been  a  startling  noise, 
but  heard  in  the  dark  it  was  terrifying !  My 
first  impression  was  that  a  vixen  had  uttered 
it,  for  the  love  call  of  a  vixen  is  a  similar  fiendish 
cry,  but  she  does  not  repeat  the  sound,  and 
this  lamentation  rose  again  and  again  on  the 
still  night  air.  My  brother  had  come  out,  and 
together  we  stood  and  listened,  and  it  became 
evident  that  the  creature  was  moving  along  the 
covert-side,  but  it  was  too  dark  to  see  anything. 

»  Lydekker  says,  "  The  probable  explanation  of  these  discrep- 
ancies is  that  in  certain  cases,  as  in  the  Roe-deer,  the  impregnated 
ovum  undergoes  a  period  of  quiescence  before  development  ;  such 
retardation  being  not  improbably  induced  by  captivity." 
(R.  Lydekker,  British  Mammals,  p.   131.) 

»  See  A.  H.  Cocks,   The  Zoologist,  1904. 


32  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

We  could  only  make  out  the  dark  shapes  of  some 
cattle,  and  the  indistinct  black  mass  of  the  trees. 
The  cry  was  still  repeated,  it  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  until  the  creatures  (there  seemed  to  be 
more  than  one)  could  be  heard  moving  over  the 
grass.  Then  they  made  off  again,  after  which 
the  melancholy  noise  came  from  the  original 
spot  beside  the  wood,  where  it  subsided  into 
a  series  of  gasping  grunts.  We  then  realized 
that  we  had  been  privileged  to  hear  the  love- 
making  of  a  pair  of  badgers.  We  stayed  and 
listened,  we  heard  them  go  snorting  and  grunting 
through  the  wood,  but  at  last  all  sound  died 
away,  and  it  became  evident  that  they  had  gone 
off  for  their  night's  hunting. 

It  is  often  said  that  badgers  are  solitary 
morose  animals,  but  this  is  by  no  means  accurate. 
Not  only  is  it  usual  for  several  to  live  in  the  same 
sett,  but  they  will  tolerate  the  presence  of  other 
creatures.  I  have  found  traces  of  rabbits  going 
in  and  out  of  the  great  earth,  where  they  evidently 
use  small  side  holes  off  the  big  badger  tunnels. 
Besides  which  cases  have  been  recorded  of  a  badger 
and  a  vixen  rearing  their  respective  families  in 
one  earth,  but  no  doubt  the  latter  took  good 
care  to  keep  her  litter  out  of  the  way  of  the  old 
sow.  It  is  a  common  thing  for  a  hunted  fox 
to  take  refuge  in  a  badger  sett,  which  generally 
affords  it  a  safe  retreat.  For  this  reason,  and 
others,  badgers  are  not  popular  with  Masters  of 
Hounds.  They  say  they  take  possession  of  fox- 
earths  and  turn  out  the  owners,  that  they  open 


THE    BADGER  33 

holes  that  have  been  stopped  overnight,  and 
last  but  not  least  that  they  murder  fox-cubs. 
I  have  never  met  with  the  slightest  evidence 
that  supports  the  latter  contention.  That  they 
will  open  badly  stopped  holes  is  true,  but  if  the 
earths  are  properly  stopped  by  pushing  a  good 
bundle  of  faggots,  sharp  points  outwards,  down 
the  holes,  even  the  badgers  strong  claws  will 
be  defeated.  The  charge  of  taking  possession 
of  fox-earths,  artificial  or  natural,  is  certainly 
founded  on  fact,  but  is  really  a  blessing  in  disguise, 
the  badger  being  a  cleanly  animal  and  the  fox 
the  reverse.  When  a  badger  takes  up  its 
lodgings  in  a  hole  it  immediately  cleans  it  out, 
scraping  away  all  dirt  and  rubbish,  after  which 
it  gathers  a  quantity  of  fresh  bracken,  grass, 
and  leaves,  which  it  draws  down  the  tunnel  and 
makes  into  a  warm  nest.  In  a  day  or  two  when 
the  bedding  has  become  soiled  and  damp,  it  is 
thrown  out,  and  a  fresh  lot  brought  in.  For 
this  reason  the  doorstep  of  a  badger's  dwelling 
will  be  piled  round  with  discarded  rubbish,  and 
littered  too  with  fresh  fern  that  has  fallen  as 
it  was  being  drawn  in.  By  the  way,  a  badger 
moves  backwards,  nearly  as  easily  as  it  goes 
forwards,  and  when  gathering  litter  it  shuffles 
tail  first  down  the  hole,  drawing  armfuls  of 
fern  along  with  it.  A  consequence  of  its 
cleanly  habits  is  that  the  badger  never,  or 
hardly  ever,  catches  mange,  and  in  districts 
where  there  are  plenty  of  badgers  the  foxes 
also    keep    fairly    free    from    it,    which   may   be 

3 


34  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

attributed  to  the  "  spring-cleaning "  habits  of 
the  badger. 

In  very  bad  weather  badgers  remain  curled 
up  in  their  warm  beds  deep  underground,  but 
they  cannot  be  said  to  really  hibernate,  as  they 
never  rest  for  long,  and  are  soon  out  and  about 
again,  which  you  can  easily  prove  by  looking  for 
their  tracks,  which  you  can  find  all  the  year  round 
save  for  short  periods  in  the  very  coldest  weather. 
Even  severe  frost  never  put  my  tame  badgers 
to  sleep,  but  Grumps  did  lie  up  once,  during 
warm  weather,  because  I  had  changed  his  quarters, 
but  his  sulks  only  lasted  for  a  week. 

It  is  sometimes  stated  that  badgers  mark  the 
trunks  of  trees  by  standing  against  them  and 
"  sharpening  their  claws "  like  cats.  In  all  my 
wanderings  through  badger-haunted  woods,  I 
have  never  come  across  the  slightest  trace  of 
their  doing  so,  and  as  they  cannot  retract  and 
extend  their  claws  like  the  cat,  it  seems,  to  say 
the  least,  most  unlikely  that  they  ever  do  any- 
thing of  the  sort.  The  nearest  approach  to  such 
a  habit  is  that  they  will  sometimes  scrape  moss 
off  a  tree  trunk  for  the  sake  of  grubs  hidden 
beneath  it ;  indeed,  I  have  a  photograph  of  Diana 
in  the  act  of  doing  so,  but  this  is  a  different  matter 
to  sharpening  their  claws  in  the  timber. 

In  concluding  this  chapter  I  would  beg  anyone 
who  has  the  chance  of  doing  so  to  protect  this 
most  interesting  and  inoffensive  animal.  If  those 
who  befriend  the  badger  gain  no  other  reward, 
the)^  will  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that 


THE    BADGER  35 

they  are  helping  to  preserve  one  of  the  last  of  the 
bigger  wild  animals  that  we  have  left  in  these 
Islands. 

{The  badger,  Meles  meles,  Linn.,  is  found  from 
Ireland  throughout  Europe,  the  eastern  limits  of  its 
range  being  unknown.  It  shows  little  or  no  varia- 
tion in  the  British  Isles,  except  that  an  occasional 
erythristic  specimen  is  met  with.  In  this  sport,  or 
mutation,  all  the  parts  normally  black  are  a  light 
red-brown,  the  grey  fur  becomes  pale  fawn,  and  the 
eyes  are  pink.  I  had  a  fine  female  of  this  type  that 
had  two  normally  coloured  cubs. 

The  Spanish  badger  is  a  trifle  larger  than  that  of 
the  rest  of  Europe,  and  it  is  also  somewhat  paler  in 
colour,  so  this  geographical  race  has  received  recog- 
nition as  a  sub-species  of  M.  meles  under  the  title 
M.  m.  marianensis,  Graells. 

In  Crete  is  Jound  a  rather  small  badger  which 
Miller  ranks  as  a  separate  species,  giving  it  the 
name  Meles  arcalus,  Miller.  These  comprise  the 
European  badgers.) 


CHAPTER  II 
THE   WOODPECKERS 

OF  all  the  woodland  birds  there  are  few 
that  belong  more  completely  to  the  trees 
than  the  woodpeckers,  being  seldom 
seen  in  the  open  save  when  flying  from  one  covert 
to  another.  Even  on  the  wing  they  are  quite 
different  from  other  birds,  for  they  fly  with  a 
peculiar  undulating  flight  that  marks  them  at 
once.  Five  or  six  strokes  of  their  short,  strong 
wings  take  them  upwards,  only  to  glide 
downwards  and  forwards,  once  more  to  ascend, 
and  so  on,  as  if  rising  and  falling  on  invisible 
waves. 

From  the  tips  of  their  strong  beaks,  to  the 
ends  of  their  short,  stiff  tails,  the  woodpeckers 
are  specialists,  being  wonderfully  adapted  for 
tree-climbing  and  wood-boring.  There  are  three 
kinds  in  this  country — the  Green  Woodpecker, 
a  fair-sized  bird,  the  general  hue  of  which,  as  its 
name  betokens,  is  green,  though  a  subdued  green 
it  is  true,  however  this  is  relieved  by  its  yellow 
rump  and  brilliant  scarlet  crest  ;  secondly  there 
is     the     Greater    Spotted    Woodpecker,     slightly 

36 


THE   WOODPECKERS  37 

smaller  than  the  Green,  and  prettily  pied  with 
black  and  white,  which  is  set  off  by  its  scarlet 
ventral  feathers,  and,  in  the  male,  by  a  red  cap  ; 
and  thirdly  the  Lesser  Spotted  which  is  similar  to 
the  Greater  Spotted,  only  it  is  much  smaller,  being 
little  bigger  than  a  chaffinch.  The  Green  Wood- 
pecker is  the  most  widely  distributed  of  the  three, 
but  the  Greater  Spotted  is  fairly  plentiful  in  most 
parts  of  England,  that  is  wherever  there  are  big 
woods,  for  its  very  existence  is  bound  up  with 
the  trees.  The  district  round  my  home  is  a  heavily 
timbered  one ;  big  woodlands  cover  a  considerable 
part  of  the  country,  with  the  result  all  three 
woodpeckers  are  common.  The  brilliant  Green 
Woodpecker  is  an  everyday  visitor  to  the  wall 
of  the  sunk  fence  that  ends  the  lawn  in  front 
of  the  house,  where  it  inspects  the  ant  colonies 
that  lurk  behind  the  stones,  probing  into  the 
crevices,  and  bringing  to  light  the  unfortunate 
insects.  The  dainty  and  diminutive  Lesser 
Spotted  Woodpecker  is  less  conspicuous,  also  less 
plentiful,  but  it  exists  in  fair  numbers,  a  most 
charming  inhabitant  of  the  higher  boughs  of  the 
great  oaks.  One  may  see  it  flitting  from  branch 
to  branch,  running  up  and  down  them  like  a 
mouse,  and  then  doing  the  vanishing  trick  by 
slipping  round  a  bough,  so  as  to  place  solid  wood 
between  it  and  the  observer.  As  for  the  Greater 
Spotted,  it  is  everywhere;  one  hears  its  peculiar 
sharp  call  on  all  sides,  one  catches  glimpses  of 
its  distinctive  black  and  white  plumage  as  it 
slips  from  tree   to   tree,   or  of  the   scarlet   patch 


38  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

at  the  back  of  its  head  as  it  peeps  cautiously 
round  a  trunk. 

It  is  more  strictly  arboreal  than  the  Green 
Woodpecker,  which  latter,  as  already  mentioned, 
though  essentially  a  tree  bird,  is  not  above 
descending  to  terra  firma,  especially  to  raid  an 
ants'  nest,  when  it  probes  the  teaming  city  with 
its  long  strong  bill,  reaping  a  rich  harvest  among 
the  larvae  and  fat  pupae  in  their  white  shroud- 
like cocoons.  Now  I  have  never  seen  the 
Greater  Spotted  Woodpecker  on  the  ground, 
though  it  is  very  plentiful  here,  having  increased 
so  much  of  late  that  it  quite  outnumbers  the 
Green  Woodpecker.  In  most  parts  of  England 
it  is  regarded  as  a  somewhat  rare  bird,  and  until 
five  or  six  years  ago  it  was  by  no  means  common 
here,  but  it  has  increased  tremendously.  Up  to 
1917  a  certain  wood  had  only  one  resident  pair, 
and  I  do  not  think  there  was  another  pair 
within  a  half-mile  radius.  Next  spring  there  were 
three  nests  in  the  area,  and  during  the  spring 
of  1920  at  least  half  a  dozen  pairs  reared  broods 
within  the  same  limits.  That  this  increase  was 
partly  natural,  due  to  suitable  seasons,  a  plentiful 
food  supply,  and  so  on,  is  shown  by  the  way  the 
species  has  been  extending  its  range  in  other 
districts  where  it  was  formerly  hardly  known. 
It  has  been  reported  as  spreading  steadily  north- 
wards into  Scotland,  where  it  used  to  be  very 
scarce.^  But  the  local  increase  that  I  write  of, 
was,    I    believe,    largely    due    to    another    factor, 

'  See  British  Birds,  the  Scottish  Naturalist,  and  other  periodicals. 


THE   WOODPECKERS  39 

behind    which    we    find    the    war    as    a    cause ! 
During  the   war,   when    timber   was    so   urgently 
wanted,   certain  big  coverts  in  the   district  were 
cleared,  hardly  a  stick  being  left  standing.     One 
of  these  woodlands  contained  a  quantity  of  fine 
old  silver  birches,  which  trees  were  a  stronghold 
for  woodpeckers,   especially  the  Greater  Spotted, 
which  loves  the  graceful  and   soft-wooded  birch. 
At  all  times  of  the  year  one  could  hear  the  sharp 
short  call  of  the  Spotted  'Peckers,  see  them  flitting 
with  the  characteristic  undulating  flight  of  their 
tribe  from  tree  to  tree,  and  in  the  spring  their 
drumming  vibrated  far  over  hill  and  dale.     When 
the  timber  felling  began  all  was  changed ;  nothing 
was   spared;    sturdy   oak   and   stalwart   ash,    the 
useless   but   beautiful   old   birches,   together   with 
many   others,   went   down   before   the   axe.     The 
quiet  and  peaceful  wood,  where  one  heard  nothing 
all  day  save  the  cries  of  the  Spotted  Woodpeckers, 
the  mocking  laugh   of  the   Green   ones,   and  the 
angry  scolding  of  a  squirrel,  became  a  scene  of 
noisy    animation.     The    shouting    of    the    timber 
haulers  to  their  horses  competed  with    the   rasp 
and   roar   of  the   saw   benches,    and  the   engines 
that    drove    them,    for    the    timber    was  cut  up 
on     the     spot ;    but    what    a    wreck    and    ruin 
was  the  wood ! — trees  felled  on   all  sides,  mighty 
giants     lying     prone,      every     twig     of     under- 
growth   chopped    off,    and    the    delicate    mosses 
and    ferns   trampled  into  the   ground,   while   the 
woodland    rides    were    churned    by    traffic,    by 
the    logs    hauled    along    them,    into    a    sea    of 


40  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

red  mud.  No  wonder  the  woodpeckers  flew 
away  ! 

The  area  affected  was  not  a  large  one,  but 
it  embraced  the  ancient  stronghold  of  the  wood- 
peckers, and  quite  a  number  must  have  had  to 
seek  fresh  quarters.  At  any  rate  about  the  same 
time  I  noted  the  marked  increase,  already  referred 
to,  of  the  woodpecker  population  of  the  coppice 
by  my  home.  There  were  not  so  many  birches 
in  this  covert,  but  there  were  other  soft-wooded 
trees,  such  as  poplars,  aspens,  and  so  on.  The 
preference  of  the  Greater  Spotted  Woodpecker 
for  the  silver  birch  is  most  marked;  for  one  nest 
found  in  other  trees  you  will  find  three  or  four 
in  this.  If  one  could  credit  a  bird  with  being 
self-conscious  one  might  imagine  it  knows  how 
lovely  it  looks  in  its  black,  white,  and  scarlet 
plumage,  upon  the  graceful  silver-barked  tree, 
with  its  delicate  drooping  branches  and  feathery 
foliage.  But  as  it  is  extremely  unlikely  that 
any  such  idea  ever  enters  the  woodpecker's  head, 
we  must  turn  for  the  reason  of  its  preference  to 
the  soft  wood  of  the  birch,  which  leads  to  early 
and  rapid  decay,  when  it  not  only  affords  soft 
material  in  which  to  bore,  but  also  harbours 
many  grubs  and  insects  that  form  the  staple 
food  of  this  bird.  Hence  the  silver  birch  is  the 
favourite  hunting  and  breeding  ground  of  this 
smart  black  and  white  woodpecker. 

For  its  nest  it  usually  selects  a  spot  some  ten 
or  twelve  feet,  or  it  may  be  more,  from  the  ground, 
and  invariably  on  the  northern  side  of  the  tree, 


THE    WOODPECKERS  41 

I  have  never  found  a  nest  on  the  sunny  side  of 
the  trunk.  Only  bird  photographers  can  appreciate 
what  an  annoying  habit  this  is,  for  an  attempt 
with  the  camera  means  working  under  the  most 
difficult  conditions  of  light  and  shade,  the  nest 
being  in  the  shadow  while  the  light  shines  into 
the  lens.  As  there  is  usually  a  reason  for  such 
a  habit,  we  may  ask  whether  it  has  anything 
to  do  with  keeping  the  young  cool,  though  you 
would  imagine  that  it  would  have  to  be  a  very 
hot  sun  to  penetrate  through  the  wooden  walls 
of  the  nest,  but  young  birds  are  sensitive  to  the 
slightest  extra  warmth.  I  have  seen  nestling 
skylarks,  when  the  sun  shone  on  their  nest,  so 
distressed  that,  after  lying  and  panting  for  a  time, 
they  at  last  crawled  out  and  took  refuge  in  the 
surrounding  herbage.  Young  buzzards  too  I  have 
seen  lying  prone  in  their  nest  on  the  side  of  a 
mountain  ravine,  gasping  helplessly  with  heat, 
and  seeming  incapable  of  movement.  In  fact, 
young  birds  of  all  kinds  not  only  hate  the 
sun,  but  are  greatly  distressed  when  the  tempera- 
ture rises,  so  we  may  feel  fairly  sure  that  the 
Greater  Spotted  Woodpecker's  preference  for  a 
northern  aspect  is  not  accidental,  but  is  to  guard 
against  the  sun  shining  down  the  entrance  to 
its  nest. 

As  a  rule  the  nest  of  both  the  Spotted  and  the 
Green  Woodpecker  is  excavated  in  the  trunk  of 
a  tree,  seldom  in  a  branch,  which  latter  is  the 
favourite  site  of  the  Lesser  Spotted.  This 
pretty  little  woodpecker  not  only  likes  a  branch, 


42  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

but  prefers  a  high  one,  for  in  all  its  affairs  it  keeps 
to  the  tree-tops.  The  selection  of  a  nesting  site 
takes  place  some  time  in  March,  after  the  business 
of  love-making  and  courtship  has  been  brought 
to  a  satisfactory  conclusion.  I  once  had  the 
pleasure  of  watching  a  pair  of  Greater  Spotted 
Woodpeckers  at  their  love-making.  It  was  one 
of  those  lovely  warm  days  that  come  occasionally 
in  the  middle  of  March ;  the  air  was  still  and 
the  atmosphere  brilliantly  clear,  the  distant  purple 
hills  seeming  but  across  the  valley.  Sound  too 
travelled  farther  than  usual;  the  drumming  of 
a  Spotted  Woodpecker  and  the  loud  laughing 
call  of  a  Green  one  echoed  to  and  fro  across  the 
dingles.  That  drumming  drew  me  through  the 
wood  towards  the  spot  from  which  it  seemed  to 
come,  for  I  wanted  to  watch  a  woodpecker  in 
the  act  of  making  it.  It  is  by  no  means  easy 
to  locate  a  bird  that  is  producing  the  call,  for 
the  sound  is  curiously  deceptive,  and  often  appears 
to  come  from  the  opposite  direction  to  that  in 
which  it  really  originates.  One  generally  hears 
it  during  the  spring  and  summer  months,  and 
rarely  at  other  times  of  year,  so  we  may  take  it 
that  it  is  the  Spotted  Woodpecker's  love  song, 
if  one  can  call  such  a  noise  a  "  song "  !  It  is 
made  by  the  bird  striking  rapidly  with  its  beak 
on  a  piece  of  dry  wood,  but  the  actual  manner 
in  which  it  is  produced  is  difficult  to  observe, 
for  even  with  strong  glasses  it  is  not  easy  to  see 
just  what  the  bird  does.  Mr.  N.  Tracy  reported 
in   British  Birds    (vol.   xiii,   p.   88)   that  he  had 


THE   WOODPECKERS  43 

watched  a  Lesser  Spotted  Woodpecker  drumming 
within  four  yards  of  him.  He  was  up  a  tree 
inspecting  a  Green  Woodpecker's  nest,  when  a 
Lesser  Spotted  settled  on  a  dead  branch  about 
four  yards  away  and  started  drumming.  He 
says,  "  It  had  its  beak  open  all  the  time  and 
seemed  to  vary  the  sound  by  slightly  opening  and 
closing  its  beak." 

To  return  to  the  pair  whose  courtship  I 
watched,  the  drumming  ceased  long  before  I 
got  near  the  spot  from  which  it  had  seemed  to 
come,  so  I  waited  for  it  to  start  again,  standing 
meantime  by  a  sallow  bush,  watching  the  peacock, 
tortoiseshell,  and  other  butterflies,  that  the 
warmth  of  this  lovely  spring  day  had  brought 
out  from  hibernation,  fluttering  to  and  fro  in 
the  sunshine,  now  alighting  to  draw  nectar  from 
the  golden  "  palm "  blossom,  and  then  chasing 
one  another  round  the  bush.  It  was  a  glorious 
sight,  and  in  watching  the  butterflies,  I  was 
forgetting  the  object  with  which  I  came  to  the 
wood,  when  there  was  an  excited  outburst  of 
Spotted  Woodpecker  calls,  and  two  of  the  birds 
darted  by  overhead,  the  one  following  the  other. 
In  and  out  between  the  trees  they  went,  gliding 
up  and  down  in  their  switchback  flight,  next 
alighting  on  the  trunk  of  a  big  tree,  round  which 
they  dodged  as  if  in  play.  There  was  a  glimpse 
of  black  and  white  here,  a  flash  of  scarlet  there, 
as  they  slipped  in  and  out  and  round  about  the 
branches.  Then  away  went  one,  and  after  it 
the  other,  giving  vent  as  it  took  wing  to  another 


44  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

chorus  of  excited  cries.  The  one  that  was  pursued 
did  not  seem  to  over-exert  itself,  soon  alighting 
upon  the  trunk  of  a  tall  oak,  round  which  the 
game  of  hide-and-seek  was  repeated,  until  once 
more  the  leader  flew  off.  Its  mate,  or  would-be 
mate,  darted  after  it  with  the  same  outcry,  to 
which  the  first  bird  replied,  so  that  the  wood 
echoed  with  their  clamour.  To  and  fro  among 
the  trees  they  went,  working  round  a  certain 
area,  their  course  embracing  a  circle  that  was 
about  three  hundred  yards  in  diameter.  They 
seldom  went  outside  this  circle,  but  for  more 
than  half  an  hour  continued  to  fly  round  it. 
How  much  longer  the  game  would  have  gone  on 
I  cannot  say,  for  an  involuntary  sneeze  attracted 
their  attention  to  me.  "  Chigh  !  chigh  !  "  they 
cried,  giving  the  danger  call,  as  they  spied  me 
below,  and  vanished  straightway. 

What  struck  me  particularly  about  this  court- 
ship was  that  neither  bird  drummed.  Drumming 
may  have  its  place  in  their  courtship,  but  this 
love-making  was  far  too  energetically  conducted 
to  allow  time  for  making  music  on  a  dead  branch. 
Woodpeckers  only  drum  during  fine  weather,  and 
are  seldom  heard  during  a  stormy  period,  but  a 
calm  warm  day  will  make  them  as  noisy  as  ever. 
During  the  spring  of  1919  one  pair  in  particular 
kept  up  an  incessant  drumming.  Near  the  silver 
birch  in  which  they  had  excavated  their  nesting 
hole  was  a  half-dead  spruce,  the  top  of  which  had 
been  blown  off  during  a  gale.  They  spent  all 
their    spare    moments    on    this    splintered    trunk. 


THE    WOODPECKERS  45 

making  the  woods  ring  with  the  peculiar  vibrating 
sound  that  they  are  such  adepts  at  producing. 
Indeed,  a  wood  that  is  tenanted  by  woodpeckers 
is  always  full  of  noise  and  life.  The  Green  Wood- 
pecker in  particular  is  seldom  silent,  its  impish 
laughter  ringing  far  through  the  trees.  It  is 
this  call  which  gives  it  its  local  name  of  the 
"  Yaffle." 

That  nesting  begins  at  the  end  of  March  or 
early  in  April  has  already  been  mentioned,  and 
to  this  must  be  added  that  the  Spotted  Wood- 
peckers spare  no  labour,  never,  in  my  experience, 
returning  to  a  previous  season's  abode,  but  always 
set  to  work  and  peck  out  a  new  nesting  hole. 
However,  this  may  be  a  matter  of  necessity,  not 
inclination,  for  all  the  old  woodpecker  holes  in 
these  woods  are  seized  early  in  the  spring  by 
nest-hunting  starlings.  These  unprincipled  birds 
will  even  go  further,  and  annex  a  new  nesting 
hole  as  soon  as  the  hardworking  woodpeckers 
have  completed  it.  Even  the  big  strong  Green 
Woodpecker  has  all  it  can  do  to  hold  its  own 
against  the  active  starlings,  and  as  for  the  Greater 
Spotted  it  is  no  match  for  them.  The  starlings 
are  quicker  witted,  are  quicker  to  act,  and  have 
evicted  the  rightful  owner's  eggs,  and  filled  the 
hole  with  the  mass  of  odds  and  ends  that  constitute 
their  nest,  before  the  poor  woodpeckers  realize 
what  has  happened.  A  bad  case  of  usurpation 
came  under  my  notice  a  year  or  two  ago.  A 
tapping  noise  led  me  to  investigate  a  certain 
rather   shaky   looking   silver   birch.     Sure   enough 


46  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

there  was  a  woodpecker's  hole  on  the  north  side, 
some  ten  feet  from  the  ground,  and  at  the  foot 
of  the  tree  a  great  litter  of  fresh  white  chips. 
By  the  way,  the  best  method  of  finding  wood- 
peckers' nests  is  not  to  look  up  aloft,  but  on  the 
ground,  the  fallen  chips  being  an  infallible  guide 
to  the  trees  in  which  new  holes  have  been  bored. 
In  this  case  there  was  quite  a  pile  of  chips,  some 
of  which  were  so  fresh  and  dry  that  it  was  evident 
they  had  only  just  fallen.  As  the  tapping  still 
went  on,  I  hid  myself  behind  the  next  tree  and 
waited.  Some  bits  of  wood  fell  out  of  the  hole, 
the  tapping  went  on,  more  bits  fell,  then  there 
was  silence,  and,  watching  the  hole,  I  saw  a 
black  and  white  head  with  beady  dark  eyes  looking 
down.  Satisfied  all  was  well,  the  owner  came  out, 
flew  to  another  tree,  and  gave  me  a  good  view 
of  the  woodpecker  method  of  progression  up  the 
trunk.  With  those  short  stiff  tail  feathers  pressed 
close  to  the  bark,  so  that  it  sat  on  them  as  a  person 
sits  on  a  shooting  stick,  it  proceeded  upwards 
by  a  series  of  short  jerky  hops.  I  have  also  seen 
one  of  these  birds  come  down  backwards  in  the 
same  manner,  which  sounds  a  much  more  difficult 
feat,  though  the  woodpecker  seemed  to  find  it 
easy  enough.  In  the  latter  case  the  tail  was 
carried  just  clear  of  the  tree.  The  more  one 
watches  woodpeckers  the  more  one  realizes  what 
highly  specialized  birds  they  are,  perfectly  adapted 
for  climbing  trees,  and  boring  holes  in  timber, 
to  say  nothing  of  excavating  in  rotten  wood  for 
the   grubs   and  insects   that   form   the  chief  part 


THE    WOODPECKERS  47 

of  their  food.  Even  their  feet  appear  especially 
suited  for  climbing,  as  the  toes  are  arranged  two 
and  two,  not  three  before  and  one  behind  as  in 
so  many  birds.  The  two  and  two  arrangement 
must  certainly  give  a  better  grip  of  the  inequalities 
of  the  bark. 

To  go  back  to  the  woodpecker  that  I  was 
watching,  it  went  up  the  tree,  then  flew  across 
to  the  next,  where  it  uttered  the  "  chigh !  " 
call,  to  which  its  mate  responded.  Joining 
company,  the  two  flew  off  and  were  quickly  lost 
to  sight. 

After  that  I  came  daily  to  see  how  they  were 
getting  on  with  the  nest.  It  progressed  rapidly, 
the  heap  of  chips  increased  steadily  for  a  week, 
then  the  task  was  finished  and  work  ceased. 
A  shaft  had  been  driven  into  the  tree  about 
three  inches  in  a  horizontal  direction,  and  then 
some  fourteen  perpendicularly.  The  Green  Wood- 
pecker's nest  goes  a  little  deeper,  but  then  being 
a  bigger  and  more  bulky  bird  it  has  to  make  a 
larger  hole.  For  several  days  after  the  Spotted 
Woodpecker's  nest  was  completed  there  appeared 
little  doing;  the  owners  could  be  heard  in  the 
adjoining  trees,  but  they  kept  out  of  sight,  and 
did  not  seem  anxious  to  draw  attention  to  their 
work,  at  any  rate  they  did  not  let  one  catch  them 
near  the  nest.  However,  their  precautions  were 
in  vain ;  it  had  been  observed.  I  had  several 
times  seen  a  pair  of  starlings  near  the  birch 
tree,  but  never  dreamt  of  what  they  were  about 
to  do — had  I  had  any  inkling  I  would  have  shot 


48  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

them  !  Well,  to  cut  the  story  short,  on  going 
one  morning  to  the  silver  birch  to  make  my  usual 
inspection  I  was  horrified  to  find  four  white  eggs 
lying  smashed  on  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree.  Those  wretched  starlings  had  taken  the 
opportunity  to  tumble  the  eggs  out  and  take 
possession  of  the  hole.  I  wish  I  could  add  that 
some  misfortune  befell  the  starlings,  but,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  they  reared  a  large  and  happy 
family  in  the  nest  that  they  had  obtained  in  such 
an  unprincipled  manner. 

All  our  woodpeckers  lay  pure  white  eggs,  with 
the  faintest  flush  of  pink,  from  the  orange  yolk, 
showing  through  the  thin  shell.  White  eggs  is 
a  characteristic  that  the  woodpeckers  share  with 
most  other  birds  that  nest  in  holes  and  dark 
places.  Colour  in  eggs  is  usually  associated  with 
exposed  nesting  sites,  and  apparently  serves  to 
camouflage  the  dainty  morsels  from  the  hungry 
gaze  of  the  many  creatures  that  are  always  ready 
to  raid  a  nest.  In  a  dark  hole  colour  is  useless, 
and  it  is  a  significant  fact  that  the  eggs  of  the 
majority  of  birds  that  nest  in  holes  are  white. 
Whether  the  ancestral  woodpeckers  laid  coloured 
eggs,  and  the  coloration  has  in  the  course  of 
time  been  lost  through  the  absence  of  selection 
since  they  took  to  nesting  in  the  dark,  or  whether 
the  whiteness  is  a  survival  from  the  dim  and  distant 
times  when  the  ancestral  lizard-bird  laid  a  skinny 
reptilian  e^g,  is  too  speculative  a  matter  for  me 
to  venture  an  opinion  upon.  The  woodpeckers 
have  another  characteristic  of  those  species  that 


THE   WOODPECKERS  49 

nest  safely  out  of  sight,  and  that  is  that  the  female 
is  nearly  as  gaily  clad  as  her  mate.  You  hardly 
ever  find  brightly  attired  females  nesting  in  ex- 
posed situations ;  when  the  hen  is  adorned  with 
bright  feathers  you  may  be  sure  that  she  retires 
into  some  dark  hole  for  incubation — take  the 
Kingfisher  for  example.  The  Green  Woodpecker  is 
nearly  as  good  an  instance,  the  hen  onty  differing 
from  her  mate  in  having  a  black  stripe,  instead 
of  a  black  and  crimson  one,  on  the  side  of  her 
face.  In  the  case  of  the  Greater  Spotted 
Woodpecker  the  female  is  not  quite  so  gay  as 
the  cock,  for  she  lacks  the  scarlet  patch  at  the 
nape  of  the  neck,  but  in  general  colouring  she 
is  just  as  conspicuous.  It  might  be  suggested 
that  the  trifling  extra  adornment  of  the  male  is 
due  to  "sexual  selection" — that  is,  to  the  choice 
by  the  hens,  through  countless  generations,  of 
the  handsomest  cocks ;  but,  if  this  is  so,  why  is 
it  that  the  young  birds  in  their  first  plumage 
should  be  adorned  with  scarlet  caps,  and  that 
without  reference  to  sex  ?  Indeed,  the  young 
are  far  brighter  and  better  looking  than  the  adults, 
affording  us  an  example  of  juvenile  plumage  which 
appears  to  be  purely  decorative.  At  any  rate 
we  cannot  imagine  such  colouring  helps  the  young 
birds  to  blend  with  their  surroundings,  or  is  in 
any  way  protective,  so,  "  protective  resemblance  " 
being  ruled  out  of  court,  we  must  try  some  other 
theory.  If  the  young  bird  was  an  unpalatable 
morsel,  or  had  any  means  of  defence,  we  might 
consider   that   it   showed  warning  coloration,  but 

4 


50  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

this  is  certainly  untenable.  Possibly  the  scarlet 
cap  may  be  useful  as  a  "  recognition  mark," 
but  the  old  birds  surely  do  not  need  any  scarlet 
head-dress  to  show  them  where  their  noisy,  inces- 
santly calling  youngsters  are  ?  They  call  and 
call,  until  the  parent  woodpeckers  must  be  worried 
out  of  their  lives.  I  am  writing,  of  course,  of 
that  short  period  when  the  young,  having  left  the 
nesting  hole,  are  still  dependent  on  the  old  birds 
for  food.  This  phase  passes  quickly ;  within  a 
few  days,  or  a  week,  the  family  party  break  up, 
scattering  through  the  woods,  and  from  that 
time  forward  the  young  birds  are  "  on  their  own," 
and  look  after  themselves.  To  go  back  for  a 
moment  to  their  behaviour  while  still  in  the  nest, 
it  is  curious  how  noisy  they  become  as  the  time 
approaches  to  leave.  I  do  not  know  which  makes 
the  most  noise,  the  Green  or  the  Spotted  Wood- 
pecker, for  both  kinds  raise  a  great  clamour. 
It  is  not  the  usual  outcry  of  young  birds,  but 
is  a  buzzing  sound,  and  they  make  what  an 
old  countryman  described  as  "  quite  a  charm  "  ! 
The  best  description  I  can  give  is  to  say  that 
it  sounds  as  if  a  swarm  of  bees  and  some  hissing 
snakes  were  having  an  argument.  One  can  hear 
the  hubbub  some  way  off;  for  instance,  a  nestful 
of  Greater  Spotted  Woodpeckers  high  up  in 
a  tall  tree  attracted  my  attention  when  more 
than  fifty  yards  away.  I  should  never  have 
known  of  these  young  woodpeckers  had  they 
kept  quiet. 

Once    the    young    woodpeckers    have    left    the 


THE    WOODPECKERS  51 

nest,  never  to  return,  their  cries  closely  resemble 
those  of  the  old  birds.  For  some  days  before 
they  launch  out  on  their  great  voyage  of  explora- 
tion, they  keep  popping  up  to  the  mouth  of  the 
hole,  partly  to  meet  their  parents  coming  home 
with  the  food  supplies,  and  also  to  look  out  at 
the  woodland  pageant,  at  the  sea  of  green  leaves 
and  swaying  boughs,  through  which  flit  thrushes 
and  blackbirds,  jays  and  magpies,  and  the  hundred 
and  one  creatures  that  make  up  the  wild  world 
of  the  trees.  Yet  even  so  early  these  youngsters 
know  something  of  fear,  of  the  dangers  of  life, 
and  that  man  is  the  greatest  danger  of  all,  so  that 
if  they  chance  to  catch  sight  of  the  observer  the 
little  red  heads  vanish  from  the  entrance,  the 
owners  discreetly  slipping  backwards  down  the 
hole,  to  wait  out  of  sight  until  the  coast  is  clear. 
Even  if  they  do  not  themselves  see  the  danger 
they  are  quick  to  take  a  hint  from  the  old  birds  : 
just  one  note  of  warning,  and  down  the  youngsters 
go  to  the  bottom  of  the  hole,  only  to  pop  up  again 
like  Jack-in-the-boxes  when  all  is  safe.  Then 
they  thrust  out  their  heads  once  more,  raising 
that  eager  clamour  for  food,  and  yet  more  food, 
that  keeps  the  poor  parents  hard  at  work  all 
day,  searching  the  trees  for  insects,  ripping  open 
the  rotten  boughs,  and  probing  all  sorts  of  holes 
and  corners  to  find  grubs  with  which  to  try  and 
satisfy  the  insatiable  youngsters. 

Once  the  young  birds  have  reached  the  stage 
of  looking  out  on  the  world,  they  are  not  long 
in  reaching  the  last  and  final  stage  of  their  life 


52  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

in  the  nest,  and  that  is  when  they  hesitate  at  the 
mouth  of  the  hole  and  consider  the  question  of 
leaving  it  for  good.  The  biggest  and  strongest 
go  first,  but  at  the  most  only  a  few  hours  separate 
their  different  starts  in  life.  They  are  launched 
into  the  world  with  a  considerable  store  of 
inherited  knowledge  :  they  are  experts  at  once 
in  the  art  of  climbing  ;  need  but  little  experience 
to  fly  as  well  as  their  parents  ;  their  instinct  will 
tell  them  how  to  peck  and  bore  to  find  the  timber- 
dweUing  insects,  but  all  the  same,  like  all  living 
creatures  (with  the  lowest  exceptions),  they  will 
profit  and  learn  by  experience.  And  on  their 
ability  to  do  so  will  depend  whether  they  live 
to  mate,  bore  out  a  nesting  hole,  and  rear  in  their 
turn  a  hungry,  noisy  family. 

That  the  Greater  Spotted  Woodpecker  has 
much  increased  of  late  years  in  certain  districts 
I  have  already  mentioned,  and  it  is  certainly 
to  be  hoped  it  will  continue  to  do  so,  and  that 
it  will  spread  to  those  parts  where  it  is  yet  un- 
common, for  it  adds  much  to  the  interest  and 
beauty  of  our  woodlands,  where  it  does  much 
good  and  no  harm.  It  destroys  many  harmful 
insects,  but  as  far  as  injury  to  timber  is  concerned 
I  have  never  seen  a  Greater  Spotted  Woodpecker's 
hole  bored  in  a  sound  tree.  I  cannot  say  so 
much  for  the  Green  Woodpecker,  as  I  did  once 
find  a  pair  nesting  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  quite 
good  tree,  but  it  too  prefers  soft  wood  to  bore 
in,  and  usually  chooses  a  half-decayed  poplar, 
or   some   such   valueless   tree   in   which   to   make 


THE   WOODPECKERS  53 

a  nest.  It  is  more  erratic  than  the  smaller 
'pecker  with  regard  to  the  height  at  which  it 
excavates  its  hole.  I  have  found  an  occupied 
nest  in  a  pollard-willow  but  three  feet  from  the 
ground,  and  another  more  than  thirty  feet  up 
in  a  wych-elm. 

A  peculiarity  of  this  bird  which  is  worth  noting 
is  the  great  muscles  of  the  tongue.  These  pass 
round  the  bottom  of  the  skull,  over  the  back  of 
the  head,  and  originate  near  the  base  of  the  bill  ! 
But  the  woodpeckers  are  bundles  of  peculiarities, 
all  more  or  less  adaptations  connected  with  their 
life  among  the  trees  ;  feet  for  clinging  to  the  bark, 
stiff  tails  on  which  to  rest  against  it,  strong  beaks 
for  probing  and  boring  in  the  wood,  especially 
such  as  is  decaying  and  is  the  home  of  many 
insects,  for  it  is  almost  entirely  on  insects  that 
our  three  woodpeckers  live,  and  by  doing  so  help 
to  keep  our  forests  and  woodlands  free  from 
many  pests. 

{The  Green  Woodpecker  of  England  and  Wales  is 
the  same  form  that  is  found  in  Central  Europe  from 
France  eastward,  and  has  been  dubbed  Picus  viridis 
virescens,  Brehm,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  Scan- 
dinavian, Italian,  and  other  races,  all  of  which  are 
ranked  as  sub-species  of  P.  viridis,  Linn. 

Of  the  Spotted  Woodpeckers  we  have  our  British 
races  ;  Dryobates  major,  Linn.,  the  Greater  Spotted, 
being  represented  by  D.  m.  anglicus,  Hartert ;  the 
numbers  of  which  are  reinforced  in  the  winter  by 
visitors  of  the  North  European  form,  D.  m.  major ; 


54  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

while  the  Lesser  Spotted,  D.  minor,  Linn.,  is  repre- 
sented in  England  and  Wales  by  the  D.  m.  com- 
minutus  of  Hartert.  This  race  also  occurs  in  Hol- 
land, differ e7it  forms  being  found  in  other  parts  of 
Europe.) 


CHAPTER  III 
THE   DORMOUSE 

ONE  of  the  shyest  yet  most  attractive  of 
our  smaller  animals  is  the  dormouse, 
it  is  such  a  dainty  yet  reposeful  looking 
little  creature.  There  is  something  so  round,  soft, 
and  comfortable  about  a  well-fed  dormouse  that 
it  is  a  joy  to  look  upon.  It  is  a  pretty  yellowish- 
buff  in  colour,  with  a  long,  flattened,  and  slightly 
bushy  tail.  Its  underparts  are  white  ;  it  has 
big  dark  eyes,  and  fine  whiskers,  and  it  always 
keeps  itself  spotlessly  clean.  Despite  its  name 
of  DoT-motise,  it  is  a  totally  distinct  creature 
from  the  long-tailed  field  mice  and  the  voles, 
also  from  the  common  house  mouse,  being,  if 
one  may  so  express  it,  merely  a  distant  cousin, 
though  classed,  along  with  squirrels,  rats,  rabbits, 
etc.,  in  the  great  order  Rodentia. 

The  dormouse  is  essentially  a  climber  ;  it  spends 
the  greater  part  of  the  year  up  aloft,  where  it 
weaves  itself  the  snuggest  and  warmest  of  nests. 
Its  favourite  haunt  is  hazel  coppices,  but  even 
where  it  is  plentiful  a  good  deal  of  knowledge 
and  observation  are  required  to  find  one  of  these 

\ 


56  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

little  animals.  The  best  place  to  seek  for  it  is 
in  a  wood  where  there  are  plenty  of  nut  bushes, 
and  the  most  likely  time  is  early  autumn,  for 
you  may  then  find  it  curled  up  in  its  summer 
nest.  The  "  buck's  dreys  "  (to  borrow  the  term 
often  used  for  the  sleeping-place  of  the  male 
squirrel)  are  about  the  size  of  a  tennis  ball,  and 
all  those  I  have  examined  have  been  chiefly  com- 
posed of  honeysuckle  bark,  that  inside  being 
finely  shredded  up  so  as  to  make  a  beautifully  soft 
lining.  Sometimes  a  leaf  or  two  and  a  few  pieces 
of  grass  are  added  to  the  outside,  but  the  bark 
forms  the  greater  part  of  the  nest.  Of  course 
when  honeysuckle  bark  cannot  be  had,  dormice 
will  use  other  materials.  The  living  nests  are 
usually  placed  in  a  brier  or  nut  bush,  preferably 
one  that  has  honeysuckle  twining  about  it,  at 
from  four  to  six  feet  from  the  ground,  and 
occasionally  higher,  as  I  once  found  a  nest  quite 
twelve  feet  above  the  ground.  When  a  nest  is 
in  use,  and  the  owner  at  home,  there  is  neither 
entrance  nor  exit  to  be  seen,  for  the  mouse  closes 
its  door  behind  it,  drawing  together  the  material 
until  one  cannot  see  where  it  goes  in  and  out. 
If,  when  dormouse  hunting,  you  find  a  nest  with 
a  hole  in  its  side  you  may  be  quite  sure  there  is 
no  mouse  at  home,  so  it  will  be  wise  to  refrain 
from  poking  your  finger  in,  as  the  dormouse  has 
a  keen  sense  of  smell  and  will  be  aware  of  the 
interference,  probably  deserting  that  nest  in 
consequence.  Dormice  seem  to  abandon  many 
nests,  for  you  find  a  number  of  empty  ones  com- 


THE   DORMOUSE  57 

pared  with  those  that  are  occupied,  indeed  the 
number  of  unused  nests  that  one  finds  is  truly 
surprising  and  says  much  for  the  industry  of 
the  makers.  Notwithstanding  this  a  dormouse 
will  sometimes  make  use  of  an  old  bird's  nest. 
I  once  found  one  in  a  deserted  blackbird's  nest. 
It  had  altered  and  adjusted  the  lining  so  as  to 
make  a  comfortable  covering  for  itself,  and  noticing 
this  heap  of  stuff  in  the  nest  I  gave  it  a  poke  to 
see  what  it  was.  To  my  astonishment  my  finger 
sank  into  something  soft  and  furry,  but  quite 
cold.  It  was  a  sleeping  dormouse.  The  day  was 
chilly,  and  the  animal  had  sunk  into  a  sleep  nearly 
as  sound  as  that  state  of  deep  unconsciousness 
in  which  it  passes  the  winter.  Its  very  name 
means  the  "  sleeping  mouse,"  and  it  is  not 
dubbed  the  sleeper  for  nothing.  The  first  frost 
or  fall  in  the  temperature  sends  the  dormouse 
into  such  a  deep  sleep  that  it  becomes  not  only 
quite  inanimate,  but  so  cold  as  to  be  apparently 
dead,  and  on  taking  the  temperature  of  a 
hibernating  mouse  one  finds  it  is  but  little  above 
that  of  its  surroundings,  though  when  active  its 
blood  heat  is  about  that  of  a  normal  human 
being. » 

The  dormouse  in  the  blackbird's  nest  was  not, 
however,  quite  unconscious,  my  poking  roused 
it,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  it  began  to  stir  ;  out  it 
popped,  ran  a  little  way  along  a  branch,  and 
then  turned  round  and  looked  at  me  with  those 
dark  eyes  which  are  like  shiny  black  beads.     What 

»  Mr.  H.  E.  Forrest  was  the  first,  I  believe,  to  point  this  out. 


58  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

a  lovely  mouse  it  was! — such  a  round,  fat,  pros- 
perous one ;  its  yellow  coat  was  sleek  and  glossy, 
and  it  looked  as  if  it  had  been  living  on  the  best 
of  good  fare.  So  no  doubt  it  had,  for  it  had  been 
a  mild  open  autumn  and  food  had  been  plentiful. 
This  animal  gets  exceedingly  fat  during  the  summer 
and  autumn,  so  that  by  early  winter  it  is  simply 
a  furry  bundle  of  prosperity,  and  it  is  these 
internal  stores  on  which  it  lives  during  the  cold 
weather.  While  asleep  its  consumption  is  lowered, 
but  still  some  fuel  is  needed  to  keep  the  slowed- 
down  machinery  from  stopping  altogether,  and 
this  energy  is  derived  from  the  stores  of  fat.  By 
spring  these  are  used  up,  and  how  different  the 
prosperous  mouse  looks  now !  It  has  faded  to 
a  mere  ghost  of  its  former  self,  and  weighs  but 
half  what  it  did;  however,  a  few  weeks  foraging 
about  in  the  bushes  restores  it  to  something  like 
its  former  plumpness. 

At  this  point  I  can  imagine  some  reader  ex- 
claiming, "  But  a  dormouse  hides  away  nuts 
to  eat  during  the  winter."  There  is,  I  know, 
a  general  belief  that  the  dormouse  is  a  provident 
little  creature,  and  provides  against  times  of 
scarcity,  but  I  have  never  met  with  a  particle  of 
evidence  in  support  of  the  idea,  and  am  convinced 
it  is  wrong.  To  start  with,  why  should  the  dor- 
mouse hibernate  at  all,  if  it  has  ample  stores  of 
nuts  on  which  to  depend  ?  Secondly,  I  have 
never  found  a  dormouse's  hoard,  nor  have  my 
captive  dormice  ever  shown  the  least  desire  to 
hide  their  superfluous  food.     Lastly,  it  does  not 


I.    DORMOUSE   CLIMBING. 
2.    DORMOUSE    ON    THE    GROUND. 


THE    DORMOUSE  59 

seem  to  be  usually  appreciated  to  what  an  extent 
the  dormouse  lives  upon  insects,  though  the 
fact  that  it  has  such  a  long  period  of  hibernation 
is  most  suggestive.  Roughly  speaking  the  dor- 
mouse sleeps  from  October  to  April,  coming  to 
life  again  as  the  buds  break  their  sheaths,  and 
numberless  small  caterpillars  and  other  larvae 
emerge  from  the  egg.  As  an  illustration  of  the 
fondness  of  the  dormouse  for  insects,  I  must 
tell  the  tale  of  a  captive  one  that  I  had.  She 
was  kept  in  a  cage  next  to  a  box  in  which  was 
being  reared  a  hundred  and  fifty  larvae  of  the 
Privet  Hawk  moth.  Sphinx  ligustn.  These  cater- 
pillars were  growing  rapidly  and  doing  well,  and 
were  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in  length.  One 
night  the  dormouse  found  a  weak  corner  in  her 
cage,  made  good  her  escape,  and  turned  her 
attention  to  the  caterpillars  next  door.  One  side 
of  the  rearing  box  was  covered  with  gauze,  so 
she  had  no  dilhculty  in  eating  a  hole  through  it 
— in  the  morning  there  was  not  a  single  cater- 
pillar left  !  Only  a  gorged  dormouse  was  found 
curled  up  under  the  carpet  in  a  corner  of  the  room 
I  have  also  seen  a  dormouse  eat  the  "  leather- 
jacket  "  grubs  of  the  "  daddy-longlegs "  with 
the  greatest  relish.  Of  course  this  little  creature 
is  very  fond  of  nuts,  and  indeed  one  seldom  finds 
it  far  from  hazel  bushes,  it  will  also  eat  sweet 
chestnuts,  acorns,  the  seeds  of  the  dog-rose,  but 
it  certainly  likes  a  mixed  fare,  in  which  it  is  not 
above  including  such  items  as  the  eggs  of  small 
birds.     I   have   actually   caught   two   dormice   in 


60  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

the  act  of  raiding  a  long-tailed  tit's  nest.  It  was 
about  three  o'clock  on  a  warm  sunny  afternoon 
at  the  end  of  Ma}/,  and  I  was  bird's-nesting  in 
a  bushy  place  near  a  wood,  when  I  heard  a  com- 
motion, a  great  twittering  among  the  little  birds 
in  one  of  the  bushes.  It  was  a  thick  blackthorn 
in  which  the  trouble  appeared  to  be  centred. 
Peeping  into  it,  I  saw  a  pair  of  long-tailed  tits 
hopping  this  way  and  that,  seeming  in  a  great 
state  of  agitation  and  excitement,  so  that  they 
took  no  notice  of  me.  Peering  and  poking  into 
the  tangle  of  thorns,  I  next  made  out  their  nest, 
which  was  hidden  in  the  heart  of  the  bush.  It 
was  a  typical  example  of  the  wonderful  art  of 
this  species,  an  oval  ball  of  moss  beautifully 
decorated  with  lichen  and  spiders'  silk,  a  neat 
round  hole  giving  entrance  to  the  feather-lined 
interior.  From  that  hole  there  now  peeped  out 
a  yellow  head  with  a  pair  of  beady  black  eyes, 
undoubtedly  and  unmistakably  the  head  of  a 
dormouse,  which  was  evidently  the  cause  of  all 
the  trouble.  My  peering  and  peeping  shook  the 
bush,  whereupon  a  second  mouse  ran  away  up  a 
branch,  leaving  behind  it  a  fragile  remnant  of 
egg-shell  caught  on  a  thorn.  Another  shake  and 
both  culprits  made  off,  and  a  thorough  investiga- 
tion revealed  that  they  had  eaten  most  of  the 
eggs.  Not  only  were  there  fragments  outside, 
but  there  were  the  broken  shells  in  the  nest. 

This  is  the  only  time  I  have  seen  two  adult 
dormice  together,  and  old  mice  they  must  have 
been,  for  it  was  too  early  in  the  year  for  young 


THE    DORMOUSE  61 

ones.  In  captivity  dormice  are  most  amiable 
and  good-natured,  several  of  the  same  sex  living 
quite  happily  together,  but  in  a  natural  state 
they  separate  when  full  grown,  each  making  a 
nest  for  itself.  All  the  same  I  think  the  male 
dormouse  keeps  in  touch  with  his  mate,  for  one 
usually  finds  two  or  three  ordinary  sleeping  nests, 
or  "  buck's  dreys,"  near  a  big  breeding  nest  (of 
the  nursery  more  anon),  one  of  which  is  invariably 
occupied  by  a  big  handsome  mouse.  For  instance, 
in  August,  1914,  I  found  four  dormice  nests  in 
a  certain  dingle.  One  was  exceptionally  high 
up,  being  at  least  twelve  feet  from  the  ground, 
in  a  nut  bush  twined  with  honeysuckle  that  over- 
hung a  path.  It  was  an  ordinary  living  nest 
made  chiefly  of  honeysuckle  bark;  there  was  no 
entrance  or  exit  visible — a  sure  sign  of  the  dor- 
mouse being  at  home — and  when  I  rapped  the 
main  stem  of  the  bush  a  yellow-brown  head  was 
instantly  thrust  through  the  side  of  the  nest. 
He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  and  then  made  a 
leap  to  a  neighbouring  twig  and  ran  off. 

Some  six  or  seven  yards  away  was  the  second 
nest,  this  one  being  no  more  than  four  feet  from 
the  ground,  also  in  a  nut  bush  round  which  was 
twining  honeysuckle.  It  too  was  made  of  the 
shredded  bark  of  this  climber,  a  few  hazel  leaves 
being  added  on  the  outside.  The  open  entrance 
showed  it  was  uninhabited,  and  during  the  six 
weeks  or  more  that  I  kept  an  eye  on  it  it  remained 
unused.  Apparently  if  anything  causes  a  dor- 
mouse to  give  up  a  nest  it  never  returns  to  it. 


62  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

but  weaves  a  new  one.  The  third  nest  was  close 
to  this,  was  in  a  similar  situation,  built  of  similar 
materials,  and  appeared  quite  freshly  made,  but 
it  too  was  abandoned.  The  fourth  nest  was  of 
a  different  type,  being  a  big  breeding  nest,  some 
four  or  five  inches  in  diameter.  The  other  nests 
were  no  bigger  than  a  cricket  ball,  being  only 
big  enough  to  contain  the  rolled-up  owner.  The 
manner  in  which  these  living  nests  are  woven 
has  been  observed  and  graphically  described  by 
Mr.  H.  E.  Forrest  :  "  .  .  .  one  evening,  about  nine 
o'clock,  I  heard  it  moving,  and  watched  to  see 
what  happened.  The  dormouse  was  inside  the 
nest,  except  the  head  and  fore-paws.  These  last 
were  working  with  an  energy  surprising  in  a  crea- 
ture which  is  generally  somewhat  indolent,  trying 
to  scratch  towards  it  one  of  the  strands  of  hay. 
Finally  it  seized  it  by  the  middle,  and  drew  back 
into  the  nest,  dragging  the  hay  strand  with  it. 
Next,  rolling  itself  into  a  ball,  it  began  to  revolve 
inside  the  nest  :  over  and  over  it  went,  smoothing 
out  the  hay,  rounding  the  interior,  and  at  the 
same  time  pushing  it  outwards."  ^ 

To  return  to  the  breeding  nest  which  I  was 
describing,  it  also  was  in  a  hazel  bush  which 
supported  honeysuckle,  and  the  bark  of  the 
climber  composed  the  greater  part  of  it,  but  there 
were  more  leaves  in  it  than  in  the  living  nests. 
It  was  unusually  high  up,  being  about  eight  feet 
from  the  ground,  the  average  nursery,  like  the 
"  buck's   dreys,"   being   at   a   height   of   three   or 

»  The  Shrewsbury  Chronicle,  June  25,  igog. 


THE   DORMOUSE  63 

four  feet.  The  entrance  was  closed,  but  a  gentle 
tap  on  the  main  stem  of  the  bush  brought  the 
owner  out,  a  rather  dull-coloured  dormouse,  which 
it  was  obvious  was  a  female  that  would  soon 
have  a  family.  She  only  ran  a  few  inches  up 
one  of  the  honeysuckle  stems,  where  she  stayed, 
clasping  the  branch  so  that  it  was  between  her 
and  the  spectator.  She  seemed  to  think  she  was 
invisible  ;  indeed,  if  I  had  not  seen  her  take  up 
her  position,  I  should  never  have  known  she 
was  there,  for  all  one  could  see  was  a  bit  of  yellow- 
ish fur  and  a  dark  eye  peeping  round  the  stem. 
Not  wishing  to  upset  or  disturb  the  little  lady,  I 
went  on,  returning  two  days  later  to  see  how  her 
affairs  were  progressing.  This  was  on  August  5th. 
She  ran  out  immediately  when  the  bush  was 
slightly  shaken,  but  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  go 
far  from  the  nest.  It  was  obvious  she  now  had 
a  family  to  consider,  and  would  not  leave  them, 
so  I  went  away  and  left  her  in  peace. 

After  that  I  visited  her  daily,  generally  giving 
the  bush  a  slight  shake,  whereupon  she  would 
push  her  head  through  the  side  of  the  nest  and 
look  out  to  see  what  the  disturbance  was  about, 
but  after  the  first  time  showed  little  alarm,  and 
did  not  run  away.  On  August  28th,  i.e.  about 
four  weeks  after  the  birth  of  the  family,  a 
companion  went  with  me  to  view  the  nest,  and 
when  asked  to  touch  the  bush,  unfortunately  gave 
it  too  vigorous  a  shake.  It  seemed  as  if  a  shower 
of  dormice  shot  out  of  the  nest  !  It  was  difficult 
to  see  exactly  what   happened,   but   it   appeared 


64  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

to  me  that  the  old  one  ran  out  first  and  hurried 
off  up  one  of  the  branches,  and  then  her  family 
jumped  in  all  directions.  Three  or  four  nearly 
full-grown  mice  fell  to  the  ground  and  scurried 
away  into  the  undergrowth.  As  they  ran  they 
appeared  a  trifle  darker  than  the  adult,  but 
resembled  the  parent  in  all  other  respects. 

Apropos  of  these  young  ones  springing  from  the 
top  of  the  bush,  it  is  extraordinary  from  what  a 
height  a  dormouse  can  fall  and  yet  meet  with 
no  injury.  A  pet  one  sprang  from  a  curtain 
pole,  falling  on  the  floor  with  a  thump  that 
terrified  me,  but  it  was  not  in  the  least  hurt.  Of 
course  a  dormouse  has  a  strong  grip,  its  little 
pink  handlike  paws  holding  the  twigs  extraordi- 
narily firmly,  so  that  such  feats  are  hardly  ever 
involuntary  ones. 

To  go  back  to  the  family  described  above, 
when  they  scattered  into  the  fallen  leaves  and 
fern,  I  thought  I  had  seen  the  last  of  them,  but 
went  to  the  nest  again  the  following  day  to  make 
sure  they  had  not  returned.  To  my  surprise 
the  entrance  was  closed,  and  the  usual  gentle 
tap  brought  the  old  dormouse  to  view.  She 
at  any  rate  had  returned  home,  but  whether 
she  had  collected  her  family  I  never  knew,  for 
I  was  unable  to  visit  the  nest  for  some  time  after 
this,  and  when  I  did  do  so  it  was,  it  is  true, 
still  occupied,  but  now  by  a  usurper.  The  keen 
long  head,  the  large  black  eyes,  and  big  ears  of 
a  long-tailed  mouse  appeared  in  the  entrance. 
The  stranger  jumped  out  and  ran  off,  and  I  was 


THE   DORMOUSE  65 

left  without  any  inkling  of  the  fate  of  the  owners 
of  the  nest. 

In  books  of  reference  it  is  commonly  stated 
that  the  dormouse  breeds  twice  in  the  season, 
the  first  litter  being  born  in  April  or  May  and 
the  second  in  the  autumn.  This  may  be  correct  as 
regards  the  Continent  and  the  southern  counties  of 
England,  but  it  certainly  does  not  apply  to  the 
rest  of  the  country.  In  the  Midlands  it  breeds  in 
the  autumn,  from  August  to  October.  I  have 
found  many  nests  containing  young  during 
August  and  September,  but  only  one  earlier.  I 
found  this  exceptionally  early  family  on  June  24th, 
the  young  ones  appearing  but  a  few  hours  old. 
Late  litters  are  less  unusual,  and  I  have  met  with 
a  breeding  nest  containing  young  ones,  that  did 
not  appear  many  days  old,  during  the  first  week 
in  November.  Disaster  probably  overtook  these 
youngsters,  for  shortly  afterwards  the  weather 
became  very  cold,  and  a  fall  in  the  temperature 
always  sends  dormice  into  hibernation,  so  their 
mother  would  have  to  retire  into  slumber,  while 
they  probably  died. 

The  length  of  time  that  dormice  hibernate  sup- 
ports my  belief  that  spring  breeding  in  these  islands 
is  most  exceptional,  for  they  do  not  awake  to  full 
activity  before  the  beginning  or  even  middle  of 
April,  and  as  each  one  has  slept  away  the  winter 
in  its  solitary  hiding  place,  they  have  to  find  each 
other,  and  conduct  their  courtship,  before  mating 
takes  place,  and  therefore  it  is  impossible  for 
the   earliest   litters   to   arrive   before   the   end   of 

5 


66  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

June,  the  majority  being  much  later.  The  family 
usually  numbers  four,  seldom  more,  but  sometimes 
less. 

Young  dormice  when  first  born  are  not  quite 
so  naked  as  most  little  rodents,  for  they  have 
some  few  very  short  hairs  about  their  skinny 
little  bodies.  They  grow  and  develop  at  a  great 
pace,  and  are  soon  well  clad  in  yellowish-brown 
fur,  which  is  similar  to  that  of  the  old  ones,  though 
duller  in  hue.  During  the  autumn  this  darker 
tint  serves  to  distinguish  them  from  the  adults, 
but  after  the  first  moult  they  cannot  be  told 
apart. 

I  once  attempted  to  rear  four  small  dormice. 
A  workman  who  was  laying  down  a  hedge  found 
the  nest,  having  knocked  it  out  of  the  fence  while 
at  his  work.  He  brought  the  poor  little  things 
to  me,  but  they  were  so  small  and  helpless  that 
I  despaired  of  saving  them.  Their  eyes  were 
beginning  to  open,  and  they  could  just  sit  up, 
but  were  yet  feeble  and  helpless.  Their  heads 
were  their  biggest  parts,  and  they  were  as  top- 
heavy  looking  as  such  wee  babies  usually  are. 
Their  feet  were  disproportionately  large,  especially 
the  hind  ones,  but  they  would  cling  like  hmpets 
with  them.  They  kept  up  a  continuous  shrill 
squeaking,  very  like  that  made  by  bats,  and 
pitched  quite  as  high,  for  two  persons  told  me 
they  could  not  hear  it  at  all.  With  the  help  of 
a  camel-hair  paint  brush  I  got  them  to  take  some 
warm  milk,  and  in  a  day  or  two  they  were  able 
to  nibble  a  little  bread  soaked  in  milk,  but,   as 


_1) 

c 

"5) 

c 

X^ 

V 

d 

X! 

V 

<u 

^ 

> 

:^ 

O. 

H 

o 

^ 

■*-' 

<: 

b£ 

^ 

c 

o 

H 

_tJO 

a~ 

2 

"in 

u 

"o 

O 

« 

s 

j:: 

g 

""* 

c< 

o 

O 

o 

_4J 

g 

rt 

" 

J 

o 

o 

o. 

o 

2 

ri 

5 

P 

u 

^ 

J:; 

O 

>^ 

tr. 

' 

>< 

TJ 

1) 

rt 

C 

■£ 

^ 

<< 

^ 

P 

"cS 

X 

.:r^ 

o 

M         ^ 


THE    DORMOUSE  67 

I  had  feared  from  the  first,  my  efforts  to  save  their 
Uves  were  in  vain,  I  could  not  pull  them  through, 
and  their  skins  are  now  with  other  specimens 
in  my  collection.  These  poor  little  things  made 
valiant  efforts  to  sit  up  and  wash  their  faces,  by 
passing  their  paws  over  their  heads  ;  and  even  to 
draw  their  nest  around  them.  Nest-making  and 
the  toilet  appear  to  be  the  two  great  interests 
of  a  dormouse,  and  it  will  dress  its  fur  most 
elaborately.  I  have  watched  one  part  the  fur 
down  its  back  with  its  paws,  and  carefully  lick 
the  length  of  the  parting,  and  thus  work  right 
across  its  back,  licking  and  parting  at  lightning 
speed,  and  twisting  its  head  and  shoulders  round, 
until  it  looked  as  if  it  would  twist  its  head  off. 
It  then  picked  up  its  feathery  tail,  and  as  carefully 
licked  that  appendage.  Its  head  and  ears  had 
been  thoroughly  attended  to  earlier  in  the  pro- 
ceedings, when  it  washed  its  face  after  the  manner 
of  a  cat,  licking  a  paw,  passing  it  behind  one 
ear,  and  drawing  it  forward  over  its  nose,  giving 
it  another  lick,  and  repeating  the  process. 

In  its  manner  of  feeding  the  dormouse  is  as 
dainty  as  it  is  in  its  person:  it  takes  in  its  mouth 
that  upon  which  it  is  going  to  feed,  sits  up  on  its 
hind-legs,  transfers  the  nut  or  whatever  it  may 
be  to  its  fore-paws,  and  then  gnaws  at  the  treasure- 
trove  in  a  steady  and  businesslike  manner.  It 
is  astonishing  how  much  one  of  these  mice  can 
dispose  of  at  a  sitting,  but  it  must  be  remembered 
that  for  a  considerable  period  they  do  not  eat 
at  all. 


68  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

I  never  see  a  dormouse  eating  without  thinking 
of  my  first  pet  dormouse,  brought  me  by  a  farm 
labourer  who  had  caught  it.  Childhke,  I  was 
hugely  delighted  with  it,  managed  to  get  a  cage, 
of  a  sort,  and  took  the  mouse  in  it  to  an  empty 
room  that  I  called  my  "  museum."  In  this  room 
was  a  collection  of  odds  and  ends,  some  fossils 
and  other  stones  that  I  had  picked  up,  some  birds' 
eggs  in  a  wooden  case,  etc.  Among  this  rubbish 
the  dormouse  was  deposited  in  its  cage.  So  far 
as  I  can  remember  it  was  a  makeshift  arrangement, 
devised  by  the  man  who  caught  the  mouse,  with 
the  help  of  a  couple  of  cigar  boxes.  At  any  rate 
the  dormouse  showed  its  good  sense  by  immediately 
getting  out.  Hanging  against  the  wall  was  a 
nest  of  the  long-tailed  tit  (given  me  by  the  same 
man  that  had  caught  the  dormouse)  and  the 
mouse  evidently  spied  the  one  comfortable  sleep- 
ing place  in  the  room,  for  there  it  was  found 
asleep  next  morning.  In  the  absence  of  suitable 
accommodation  it  was  allowed  to  stay  where  it 
was,  and  to  have  the  run  of  the  room.  It  got 
very  tame ;  every  evening  it  would  come  out, 
climb  up  on  to  a  picture  frame,  and  there  take 
nuts  from  one's  fingers,  but  alas  !  one  day  some- 
one left  the  window  open,  and  the  dormouse 
vanished,  never  to  be  seen  again.  Pet  dormice  are 
clever  at  escaping,  for,  despite  their  sleepy  and 
indolent  looks,  there  is  no  small  mammal  that 
is  quicker  to  take  advantage  of  any  chance  of 
getting  away.  One  of  mine,  which  got  out  and 
disappeared   for   a   week,   reappeared   in   a   rather 


THE   DORMOUSE  69 

startling  manner.  As  my  mother  and  I  were 
coming  out  of  church  on  the  Sunday,  I  caught 
sight  of  something  yellow  in  the  long  fur  of  the 
wrap  she  wore  round  her  neck.  It  was  the  work 
of  a  moment  to  ask  her  to  stop,  and  next  second 
I  had  the  missing  dormouse  in  my  hand !  It 
must  have  got  into  her  bedroom,  then  into  the 
drawer  where  her  furs  were  kept,  and,  finding  a 
soft  comfortable  spot,  had  gone  to  sleep  among 
them.  It  had  not  been  shaken  out  during  the 
mile  and  a  half  walk  to  church,  nor  during  the 
service,  but  I  often  wonder  what  the  choir  boys, 
who  were  just  in  front  of  us,  would  have  done 
if  it  had  waked  up  and  taken  a  flying  leap  among 
them — could  any  boy  have  resisted  making  a 
grab  at  it  ? 

The  dormouse,  though  so  popular  as  a  pet, 
rarely  breeds  in  captivity.  I  have  never  met 
with  any  great  success  in  this  direction,  owing 
possibly  to  too  much  attention  at  the  critical 
time.  Two  litters  were  deserted  by  the  mothers, 
and  in  a  third  case  the  parent  murdered  her  help- 
less mites.  By  the  way,  a  word  of  advice  to  any 
one  who  has  a  pet  dormouse,  and  that  is  not  to 
bring  it  into  a  heated  room  during  the  winter, 
but  to  let  it  remain  in  a  fairly  cool  place  where 
the  temperature  does  not  alter  much.  In  a 
warm  place  a  dormouse  is  unable  to  enjoy  that 
sound  winter  sleep  which  is  necessary  to  its  well- 
being.  The  warmth  rouses  it  to  an  unnatural 
activity,  so  that  it  is  expending  energy  when  it 
should  be  hoarding  it.     At  any  time  a  rise  in  the 


70  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

temperature  will  rouse  one  of  these  creatures, 
just  as  a  fall  will  send  it  back  to  unconsciousness. 
This  activity  is  bad  enough  when  there  is  plenty 
of  food  at  hand,  but  in  a  wild  state  a  warm  spell 
has  often  disastrous  effects  on  the  dormouse 
population.  I  have  noticed  repeatedly  that  a 
mild  winter  is  invariably  followed  by  a  scarcity 
of  these  animals,  and  vice  versa  with  a  hard  one. 
The  very  severe  winter  of  1916-17,  which  was 
so  hard  that  many  species  of  birds  were  almost 
wiped  out,  had  not  only  no  ill-effects  on  the 
dormouse  population,  but  the  reverse.  I  never 
saw  so  many  dormice,  or  found  so  many  of  their 
nests,  as  I  did  during  the  following  summer. 
That  year  the  dormice  must  have  enjoyed  an 
uninterrupted  slumber  from  the  end  of  September 
to  late  in  April.  Now  the  season  1919-20  was 
a  very  mild  one,  it  being  a  most  open  winter, 
but  during  the  summer  of  1920  I  never  saw  a  sign 
or  trace  of  a  dormouse  in  any  one  of  the  usual 
favourite  spots.  The  dormice  seemed  to  have 
vanished  completely.  I  believe  this  fluctuation 
in  numbers  is  entirely  a  matter  of  weather;  a 
hard  winter  will  be  followed  by  a  good  dormouse 
summer,  and  a  mild  one  by  the  disappearance 
of  the  mice.  When  one  remembers  that  this 
mouse  is  practically  entirely  dependent  on  its 
internal  stores  of  fat,  and  that  these  stores  are 
consumed  much  more  rapidly  during  its  periods  of 
activity,  one  can  readily  comprehend  that  a  mild 
winter,  with  continuous  excursions  on  the  part  of 
the  dormice,  is  likely  to  be  disastrous  to  them. 


THE   DORMOUSE  71 

No  description  has  yet  been  given  of  the  quarters 
in  which  this  species  hibernates.  At  the  first 
chill  touch  of  frost  it  deserts  its  aerial  nest  and 
descends  to  some  warm  bank,  retreating  into  a 
hole,  under  a  log,  or  into  a  crevice  of  some  old 
tree  stump,  where  it  makes  itself  a  warm  and 
comfortable  nest  of  leaves  and  grass.  Sometimes 
it  will  descend  quite  deep  down  a  convenient 
mouse  hole  or  mole  run,  and  I  once  saw  a  dormouse 
dug  up  from  a  depth  of  between  two  and  a  half 
and  three  feet.  We  were  rabbiting  in  a  wood, 
and  one  of  the  ferrets  having  laid  up  with  a  rabbit 
had  to  be  dug  out.  The  rabbit  hole  went  quite 
deep  into  the  ground,  and  with  one  of  the  spade- 
fuls of  earth  from  the  bottom  of  the  trench  came 
up  a  ball  of  grass.  As  the  soil  was  thrown  out 
it  rolled  away,  and  I  picked  it  up  to  see  what  it 
was.  It  was  about  the  size  of  a  tennis  ball, 
without  visible  opening,  and  beautifully  woven. 
On  parting  the  materials,  there  was  disclosed  an 
unconscious  dormouse.  I  have  seen  it  stated, 
on  good  authority,  that  if  a  sleeping  dormouse 
is  roused  suddenly  by  being  put  near  a  fire,  or 
in  any  other  way  warmed  up  too  quickly,  its 
heart  begins  to  beat  at  such  a  rate  it  dies  in  a 
few  minutes,  but  I  cannot  vouch  for  it,  as  I  never 
had  sufficient  scientific  enthusiasm  to  try  such 
an  experiment. 

Apart  from  unsuitably  mild  seasons,  animal 
foes  help  to  keep  the  dormice  from  increasing 
unduly.  The  weasel  is  not  above  pursuing  it 
through  the  bushes,  the  tawny  owl  takes  its  toll, 


72  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

and  the  kestrel  has  no  objection  to  including  a 
dormouse  in  its  fare. 

The  long-tailed  field  mouse  is,  I  suspect,  guilty 
of  bullying  the  more  easygoing  dormouse,  for 
I  have  so  often  found  the  field  mice  occupying 
the  nests  of  the  latter,  that  I  am  sure  they  turn 
out  the  rightful  owners.  On  one  occasion  I 
pushed  my  finger  into  a  nest,  only  to  receive 
a  sharp  prick  on  the  end.  I  hurriedly  with- 
drew it,  thinking  I  had  run  it  against  a  thorn, 
when  out  jumped  a  fine  long-tailed  mouse. ^  It 
was  his  teeth,  not  a  thorn,  that  my  finger  had 
met !  Another  time,  when  out  with  a  shooting 
party,  I  saw  a  long-tail,  startled  by  the  thump 
of  a  beater's  stick  on  the  bush,  jump  headlong 
from  a  dormouse's  nest,  miss  its  footing  on  a  brier 
stem,  slip,  and  get  caught  by  a  thorn  through 
the  skin  of  its  tail.  For  several  moments  it  hung 
helplessly,  and  I  quite  expected  the  tail  to  skin, 
as  so  easily  happens  with  these  mice,  but  after  a 
few  kicks  it  swung  free  and  ran  off.  I  could 
give  scores  of  similar  instances  of  long-tailed 
field  mice  taking  possession  of  such  nests,  and 
will  only  say  it  is  the  rule  and  not  the  exception 
for  them  to  do  so. 

Apart  from  natural  foes,  and  other  causes,  the 
life  of  individual  dormice  is  probably  short. 
Those  I  have  kept,  and  which  I  have  tried  to 
supply  with  everything  they  could  possibly  want, 

«  The  common  Long-Tail,  Apodemus  sylvaticus,  not  the  Yellow- 
neck,  A .  flavicollis  ;  though  the  latter  is  plentiful  in  the  district  in 
question. 


1.  DORMOUSE    AWAKE. 

2.  DORMOUSE    ASLEEP. 


THE   DORMOUSE  73 

have  never  got  through  a  second  winter  in 
captivity.  They  were  quite  healthy  until  the 
late  autumn,  when  they  died  suddenly  with- 
out any  symptoms  of  illness,  and  Mr.  H.  E. 
Forrest,  the  well-known  naturalist,  tells  me  that 
he  has  tried  repeatedly  with  exactly  the  same 
results. 

Another  interesting  point  concerning  this  mouse 
is  why  it  should  be  plentiful  in  some  spots,  and 
not  in  others  that  appear  equally  suitable  ?  It 
is  far  from  evenly  distributed;  it  will  be  com- 
paratively numerous  in  one  place  (it  is  never 
really  plentiful)  and  seldom  met  with  in  the 
next  coppice.  In  my  experience  its  favourite 
haunts  are  deep,  warm,  bush-clad  dingles,  where 
it  is  sheltered  from  cold  winds.  Those  who  only 
know  the  dormouse  as  a  charming  caged  pet, 
of  a  somewhat  somnolent  and  easygoing  disposi- 
tion, can  have  little  idea  of  its  beauty  in  its  native 
dingles,  where  the  dull,  lethargic  mouse  is  trans- 
formed into  an  active  sprite,  which  slips  so  swiftly 
from  twig  to  twig  that  it  looks  like  a  yellow  leaf 
drifting  before  an  autumn  breeze.  Some  writers 
consider  the  beautiful  yellow-brown  coat  con- 
spicuous, and  say  it  in  no  way  conceals  its  wearer, 
but  I  can  only  reply  that  I  have  always  found 
a  dormouse  at  home  in  a  nut  bush  extremely 
difficult  to  see  unless  it  gives  itself  away  by 
moving.  The  tint  seems  to  harmonize  very  well 
with  the  surroundings.  In  any  case  the  dormouse 
is  one  of  the  most  charming  and  dainty  of  our 
woodland  creatures. 


74  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

[The  dormouse,  Muscardinus  avellanarius,  Linn., 
is  found  from  England  throughout  Central  Europe 
eastward,  and  is  singularly  exempt  from  variation, 
no  sub-specific  forms  having  been  recognized,  and 
the  only  other  European  species  of  Muscardinus  is 
the  Italian  M.  pulcher  of  Barrett-Hamilton,  which 
is  a  brighter-coloured  mouse  with  a  white  eye 
stripe.) 


CHAPTER   IV 
THE    BULLFINCH 

THE  bullfinch  is  a  bird  that  loves  trees 
and  bushes,  and  which  one  hardly  ever  sees 
in  the  open  country ;  yet  it  is  not  the 
great  woods,  where  tall  oaks  and  ashes  tower 
skywards  with  trunks  like  columns  in  a  cathedral, 
that  it  chooses  for  its  haunts,  but  rather  the  fringe 
of  the  woods,  where  there  are  thickets  of  black- 
thorns and  briers.  From  such  strongholds  it  flits 
out  along  the  hedgerows  to  gardens  and  orchards, 
where  it  is  a  gay  if  not  always  welcome  visitor. 
This  taste  for  bushy  places,  rather  than  the  recesses 
of  the  woods,  it  shares  with  many  other  birds. 
When  strolling  through  a  coppice  you  will  usually 
find  that  there  is  much  more  life  on  the  outskirts 
than  there  is  inside.  Among  the  trees  things 
are  very  quiet,  but  the  surrounding  thickets  abound 
with  birds.  Blackbirds,  thrushes,  willow  wrens, 
and  chiffchaffs,  to  say  nothing  of  greenfinches 
and  chaffinches,  are  there  in  numbers,  and  the 
bushes  seem  alive  with  them. 

Yet  the  bullfinch,  even  if  it  does  not  care  for 
the  heart  of  the  big  woods,  loves  the  trees,  shade, 

7S 


76  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

and  coolness.  When  choosing  a  nesting  place  it 
nearly  alwaj^s  selects  some  evergreen  shrub,  a 
small  fir  tree  meeting  its  requirements  to  a  nicety. 
For  this  reason  a  young  spruce  plantation  draws 
to  it  all  the  bullfinches  in  the  neighbourhood. 
There  is  such  a  plantation  near  my  home,  where, 
in  the  spring  of  1918,  I  spent  much  time  watching 
the  private  affairs  of  these  fascinating  little  birds. 
There  were  two  pairs  in  particular  with  which  I 
became  very  intimate.  They  were  nesting  within 
two  yards  of  one  another.  Both  pairs  had  shown 
the  usual  liking  of  their  species  for  deep  shade, 
and  had  placed  their  nests  against  the  main 
stems  of  particularly  thick  young  spruces,  at 
about  four  feet  from  the  ground.  This  is  the 
average  height  for  a  bullfinch's  nest,  though  I 
have  found  them  a  trifle  farther  from  the  ground 
but  never  more  than  six  feet.  Now  the  green- 
finch, which  nests  in  similar  situations,  prefers 
to  get  much  higher,  and  makes  its  home  at  anything 
from  six  to  fourteen  feet.  What  makes  the  differ- 
ence and  influences  their  choice  I  wonder  ? 

The  two  bullfinch  nests  were  quite  typical  ones, 
being  built  of  small  dry  spruce  twigs  and  lined 
with  fine  roots  and  hair.  They  looked  fragile 
structures,  and  were  much  stronger  than  they 
appeared,  for  each  subsequently  held,  without 
disaster,  five  well-fed  nestlings.  I  found  the  first 
nest  on  May  3rd,  when  it  was  apparently  ready 
for  eggs  ;  in  fact,  the  first  egg  must  have  been 
laid  shortly  after,  for  on  the  7th  it  held  three, 
typical  bullfinch  eggs,  such  exquisite  dainty  things 


THE    BULLFINCH  77 

with  their  purple-brown  blotches  on  a  very  pale 
blue  ground.  Words  entirely  fail  to  describe  the 
beauty  of  these  eggs,  the  shell  being  so  thin  and 
fragile  that  the  yolk  within  modifies  their  hue. 
Blown  specimens  in  a  cabinet  have  little  likeness 
to  the  untouched  original  egg  lying  in  its  cradle 
of  twigs  and  rootlets,  with  the  play  of  light  and 
shadow  passing  over  it  and  making  it  seem  a 
fairy  casket  for  the  future  life  that  it  contains. 
But  it  was  probably  for  utility,  not  beauty,  that 
the  colouring  and  markings  were  evolved. 

The  eggs  of  the  bullfinch  vary  somewhat,  and 
those  of  the  second  pair,  whose  nest  was  not 
found  until  May  19th,  when  the  bird  had  begun 
to  sit,  were  not  so  beautiful  as  those  of  the  first 
pair.  They  were  not  so  pure  a  blue,  the  purple 
markings  were  fainter,  and  they  might  almost 
have  been  mistaken  for  the  eggs  of  a  linnet;  still, 
they  were  lovely  objects. 

Up  to  this  time  I  had  seen  hardly  anything  of 
the  parent  birds,  an  occasional  glimpse  of  grey 
and  white  flitting  through  the  dark  green  of  the 
spruce  branches  being  all  they  had  vouchsafed 
me.  But  that  they  were  at  hand  was  apparent 
from  their  melancholy  piping,  which  could  be 
heard  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other; 
however,  I  had  already  taken  steps  to  get  better 
acquainted  with  them.  Some  days  before  a  small 
hiding  tent  had  been  set  up  a  little  distance  off, 
and  now  the  birds  had  got  thoroughly  used  to  it 
I  brought  it  close  to  nest  No.  i.  Ensconced  therein, 
I    could    watch    unseen    through    the    peep-holes 


78  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

and  tears  in  the  covering  all  that  went  on  around, 
the  bullfinch's  nest  being  so  close,  that  later  on, 
when  the  owner  was  brooding,  I  often  longed  to 
put  my  hand  through  a  hole  and  stroke  her ! 
The  real  object  of  erecting  the  tent  had  been 
photography,  for  I  wanted  to  take  some  photo- 
graphs of  the  bullfinches,  but  the  situation  was 
a  particularly  difiicult  one,  the  nest  being  tucked 
away  in  the  heart  of  this  thick  young  spruce, 
in  addition  to  which  the  spot  was  so  shaded  and 
overshadowed  by  dark  Austrian  pines  that  only 
the  slowest  of  exposures  was  possible.  To  make 
matters  worse,  the  light  which  did  reach  the  nest 
had  filtered  through  the  heavy  green  branches, 
so  that  it  was  even  poorer  actinically  (that  is  to 
say,  in  the  kind  of  ra^^s  that  effect  the  photographic 
plate)  than  it  appeared  to  the  eye.  What  was 
more,  I  did  not  dare  to  pull  back  many  of  the 
branches  for  fear  of  upsetting  the  bullfinches. 
All  I  ventured  to  do  was  to  trim  away  a  few 
twigs  that  came  between  the  camera  and  the 
nest. 

Tucked  away  in  the  little  tent,  with  my  camera 
focused  on  the  nest,  I  waited  for  the  birds  to 
return.  It  was  very  hot  among  the  young  fir 
trees,  and  still  warmer  inside  the  "  hide  "  ;  not 
a  breath  of  air  crept  down  the  scented  alleys 
between  the  trees ;  dancing  flies  hummed  drowsily  ; 
thrushes,  blackbirds,  and  warblers  sung  on  all 
sides,  while  pigeons  cooed  lazily  in  the  distance. 
Through  one  of  my  peep-holes  I  saw  a  cock  pheasant 
pace  slowly  across  a  ride,   the  sunlight  gleaming 


THE    BULLFINCH  79 

on  his  brilliant  plumage,  then  a  thrush  flew  up  and, 
perching  on  the  spurlike  leading  shoot  of  one  of 
the  spruces,  began  to  sing,  pouring  forth  the  joy 
of  living  in  his  liquid  notes  ;  a  blackcap  flitted 
about  lower  down,  peeping  here  and  there  among 
the  brambles  for  flies  and  other  hidden  insects, 
and  a  consequential  robin,  with  the  curiosity  of 
its  kind,  came  and  examined  the  tent.  Suddenly 
my  attention  was  riveted  by  the  mournful  piping 
call-note  peculiar  to  the  bullfinch.  Then  there 
was  a  glimpse  of  black,  white,  and  grey  slipping 
through  the  boughs,  the  piping  call  gave  place 
to  twittering  (the  call-note  was  never  used  at  the 
nest),  and  I  saw  the  hen  coming  back  escorted  by 
her  mate.  Such  a  dainty  Quakerish  little  person 
she  looked  in  her  pearl-grey,  white  and  black 
plumage.  She  hopped  from  twig  to  twig,  then 
stopped  and  looked  about  her ;  alterations  had 
been  made,  the  absence  of  those  few  twigs  that  I 
had  cut  out  seemed  to  trouble  her,  and  she  hesitated 
what  to  do.  She  hopped  away,  she  hopped  back, 
and  then  summoned  up  her  courage  and  hopped 
on  to  the  edge  of  the  nest.  All  the  time  her  hand- 
some mate  was  standing  behind  her,  resplendent 
with  his  salmon-pink  breast.  He  twittered  to  her 
as  if  begging  her  to  settle  down  on  the  eggs  without 
delay — by  "  twittering  "  I  mean  a  subdued  con- 
tented note,  faintly  uttered  so  that  one  could  hardly 
hear  it,  and  quite  different  from  the  plaintive 
piping  with  which  they  called  to  one  another. 
But  the  female  bullfinch  was  undecided  what  to 
do;  she  hopped  away,  then  back  on  to  the  edge 


80  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

of  the  nest,  where  she  stood  for  a  moment  looking 
down  on  her  five  eggs,  those  dainty  beautiful 
eggs  of  which  she  was  a  worthy  owner,  for  she 
was  as  charming  in  her  quiet  demure  way  as  her 
more  gaily  clad  mate.  He,  with  his  rose-tinted 
waistcoat,  looked  like  a  gay  Cavalier,  while  she 
might  have  been  some  meek  Puritan  dame.  Still 
he  twittered  to  her,  seeming  to  beseech  her  not 
to  let  the  eggs  get  cold,  and  at  last  she  did 
settle  down,  slipping  lightly  on  to  them  and 
fluffing  out  her  feathers  comfortably  over  her 
treasures. 

At  first  the  hen  bullfinch  seemed  a  trifle  uneasy ; 
her  penetrating  black  eyes  glanced  suspiciously 
at  the  tent,  then  she  turned  her  head  in  the  direction 
in  which  the  cock  had  disappeared,  and  I  feared 
she  would  follow  him,  but  the  wild  life  of  the  little 
wood  went  on  unheeding  all  around,  the  thrushes, 
blackcaps,  and  garden  warblers  continued  to 
pour  forth  their  songs,  and  she  gradually  lost 
the  look  of  strain  and  worry,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  the  drowsy  buzzing  and  humming  of  the  hover 
flies  was  lulling  her  to  sleep.  At  last  I  thought 
I  might  try  and  take  a  photograph,  so  squeezed 
the  bulb  of  my  so-called  silent  shutter,  when 
even  its  pronounced  "  click  "  failed  to  disturb  her; 
however,  I  waited  some  time  before  trying  to 
change  the  plate,  but  while  doing  so  accidentally 
shook  the  camera  and  with  it  the  front  of  the 
tent — Madam  was  gone  in  an  instant  ! 

I  subsequently  found  that  both  the  bullfinches 
were    practically    indifferent    to    noise ;     I    could 


THE    BULLFINCH  81 

speak,  clap  my  hands,  let  off  the  focal-plane 
shutter — a  terribly  noisy  thing — and  yet  not 
disturb  their  equanimity.  They  might  look  up, 
or  remain  still  for  a  moment  after  hearing  a  strange 
sound,  but  it  did  not  frighten  them  or  drive  them 
away.  It  was  only  owing  to  this  characteristic 
that  I  was  able  to  take  any  photographs  at  all, 
for  the  nest  was  so  shaded  that  instantaneous 
exposures  were  quite  out  of  the  question.  How- 
ever, by  making  a  noise  I  could  sometimes  induce 
the  bullfinches  to  remain  quiet  for  a  second  or 
two,  and  was  thus  able  to  give  short  time  exposures. 
Even  then  a  large  proportion  of  the  plates  were 
very  under-exposed,  and  still  more  were  spoilt 
by  the  birds  moving.  As  time  went  on  it  was 
practically  impossible  to  get  a  good  photograph, 
for  they  had  become  so  accustomed  to  all  the 
noises  that  I  could  make,  that  by  the  time  the 
young  were  half  grown  they  were  utterly  indifferent. 
They  would  go  on  about  their  business  while 
I  clapped  my  hands  and  shouted ;  nothing  would 
startle  them  into  attention — nothing,  that  is,  in 
the  way  of  sounds  ;  of  movement  they  remained 
as  nervous  as  ever.  If  the  tent  cover  shook,  or 
if  I  showed  as  much  as  a  finger  at  one  of  the  open- 
ings, they  dived  in  panic  into  the  bushes.  This  in- 
difference to  noise,  and  terror  of  anything  stirring, 
is  probably  connected  with  the  dangers  they  have 
to  fear.  In  wild  life  death  is  always  silent:  the 
hawk  swoops  swiftly  and  unsuspectedly  upon  its 
prey,  the  owl  drops  noiselessly  out  of  the  twilight, 
and    the   cat    creeps    up    on    padded    paw.     That 

6 


82  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

which  makes  a  row  need  never  be  feared,  but  the 
stirring  of  a  leaf,  or  the  trembhng  of  a  grass  blade 
may  mean  danger  at  hand,  so  most  small  birds 
trust  their  eyes  in  preference  to  their  ears,  and 
fly  off  at  any  unexpected  movement  among  their 
surroundings. 

As  the  bullfinch  had  been  very  startled  by  the 
shaking  of  the  front  of  the  "  hide,"  and  as  I  also 
had  an  idea  that  she  knew  I  was  hidden  inside 
it,  I  crept  out  and  went  away  for  a  while,  to  give 
her  time  to  recover  her  confidence.  It  was  12.30 
when  I  came  back,  and  hotter  than  ever,  the 
flies  droning  more  drowsily  than  before,  pigeons 
cooing  as  if  they  had  hardly  the  energy  to  call, 
and  only  one  or  two  warblers  singing  dreamily 
in  the  bushes.  But  the  hen  bullfinch  was  quite 
wide  awake,  and  slipped  off  the  nest,  and  away 
into  the  fir  trees,  before  I  got  near  the  tent.  I 
heard  her  calling  to  her  mate,  and  feel  sure  they 
both  watched  me  get  into  the  "  hide."  They  must 
have  known  I  had  not  gone  away,  yet  I  had  hardly 
tucked  myself  in,  and  set  the  shutter  of  the  camera, 
than  I  heard  them  calling  close  at  hand,  and  then 
the  twittering  that  denoted  they  were  coming 
back  to  the  nest.  Almost  at  the  same  moment 
the  hen  came  fluttering  by,  went  straight  to  the 
nest,  and  settled  down  on  the  eggs.  Now  how 
is  one  to  understand  that  ?  Was  it  bravery  ? 
Or  was  it  want  of  brains  ?  Because  they  could 
not  see  me,  did  they  think  I  must  have  been 
swallowed  up  by  the  ground  ?  We  may  imagine 
that  it  was  a  case  of  "  out  of  sight,  out  of  mind," 


THE    BULLFINCH  83 

but  that  gives  us  little  help  in  understanding 
the  mind  of  such  small  feathered  creatures.  All 
one  can  say  for  certain  is  that  birds  vary  tremen- 
dously in  that  power  of  "  putting  two  and  two 
together  "  which  in  humans  we  call  intelligence. 
A  crow  or  raven,  for  instance,  would  never  have 
been  deceived  in  the  simple  manner  that  these 
poor  little  bullfinches  were ;  with  either  of  them 
it  would  have  been  a  battle  of  wits,  the  bird  being 
probably  the  victor  in  the  end,  but  the  bullfinches, 
having  lost  sight  of  me,  were  quite  happy,  for 
they  were  now  used  to  the  tent  and  paid  no 
attention  to  it  whatever.  The  hen  fluffed  her 
feathers  out  and  settled  down  on  the  eggs,  while 
her  mate  remained  standing  beside  her  for  a  few 
moments,  twittering  all  the  while ;  at  least  I 
supposed  it  was  he  who  twittered,  for  the  sound 
ceased  when  he  flew  away,  but  there  was  no 
movement  of  throat  or  beak  to  show  which  was 
doing  the  talking.  I  watched  both  birds  carefully 
and  never  saw  a  muscle  move,  but,  as  mentioned 
before,  when  the  cock  left  all  sound  ceased.  I 
must  add  here  that  he  was  the  most  devoted  of 
mates,  and  that,  though  I  saw  the  hen  leave  and 
return  to  the  nest  many  times,  he  never  failed 
to  escort  her  back.  He  always  saw  her  home, 
and  would  stand  by  until  she  was  comfortably 
settled  on  the  eggs.  The  quickness  with  which 
he  appeared  when  anything  disturbed  her,  made 
me  think  that  he  never  went  far  from  the  nest, 
that  he  was  always  within  hearing,  and  more  or 
less  on  guard.     I  did  not  see  him  bring  her  food 


84  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

previous  to  the  young  being  hatched,  but  from 
his  subsequent  behaviour  I  think  it  is  probable 
he  did  feed  her  on  the  nest. 

It  was  after  the  eggs  had  hatched  that  the 
bullfinches  became  most  interesting.  The  great 
event  took  place  on  May  23rd,  and  the  next  day 
I  took  my  camera  to  the  tent  to  try  for  some 
more  photographs.  The  little  ones  were  very 
small  and  helpless,  skinny  mites  decorated  with 
tufts  of  black  down,  like  the  conventional  adorn- 
ments of  a  circus  clown.  Are  such  tufts  of  any 
use,  or  are  they  just  an  accident  of  evolution  ? 
Watching  the  tiny  mites  as  they  lay  in  their  nest 
gave  me  no  answer  to  my  query,  unless  it  was 
the  thought  that  maybe  these  scanty  tufts  are 
a  legacy  from  the  primitive  bird  in  which  the 
nest-building  impulse  was  not  yet  developed, 
and  whose  young  therefore  would  almost  certainly 
be  well  clad,  as  are  the  chicks  of  the  waders,  game- 
birds,  etc.,  at  the  present  day. 

No  sooner  had  I  got  everything  arranged  inside 
the  "hide"  than  the  hen  bullfinch  was  back,  of 
course  escorted  as  usual  by  her  attentive  mate, 
but  having  seen  her  fluff  her  feathers  out,  and 
settle  down  to  brood  the  family,  he  flitted  off. 
The  reason  of  his  hurry  was  apparent,  when  he 
returned  exactly  fifteen  minutes  later,  with  his 
throat  distended  with  food,  not  for  the  family, 
but  for  his  wife.  She  opened  her  beak  and  he 
regurgitated  his  supply  down  her  throat — that  is 
to  say,  he  brought  up  from  his  crop  the  semi- 
digested  food  with  which  it  was  filled,  and  gave 


THE    BULLFINCH  85 

it  all  to  her.  Evidently  the  young  did  not  want 
much  food  yet,  for  she  swallowed  it  all.  So  far 
as  I  could  see  and  judge,  all  the  food  given  by 
the  cock  to  the  hen,  and  later  that  brought  by 
the  pair  for  their  young,  consisted  of  buds  and 
other  greenstuff,  but  as  it  was  in  a  half-digested 
state,  and  it  was  by  no  means  easy  to  see  what 
passed  from  one  to  the  other,  I  could  not  be 
absolutely  sure  it  was  only  buds. 

Another  fifteen  minutes  passed,  when  the  male 
reappeared,  again  fed  his  brooding  mate,  and 
hurried  off  once  more.  This  time  he  was  away 
for  half  an  hour,  it  being  2.30  when  the  devoted 
little  fellow  returned.  This  time,  the  hen,  having 
taken  a  Httle  food  from  him,  rose,  stepped  back 
to  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and  left  the  young  ones 
exposed  to  view.  The  cock,  bending  over  them 
carefully,  pushed  a  little  food  down  the  throat 
of  each  in  turn,  and  then  turned  his  attention 
to  matters  sanitary,  taking  the  excrement  from 
the  tiny  mites,  swallowing  some  of  it,  and  passing 
some  to  the  hen,  which  she  hkewise  swallowed  ! 
This,  I  may  add,  is  the  course  commonly  taken 
by  nest-building  birds  while  their  nesthngs  are 
young,  at  first  they  swallow  the  excrement,  but 
as  the  young  get  older  the  parents  carry  it  off  and 
drop  it  at  a  distance. 

Everything  having  been  seen  to,  the  cock  dis- 
appeared once  more,  and  again  was  absent  for 
quite  half  an  hour.  At  last  the  hen  got  tired  of 
waiting  for  him  to  come  back,  she  got  very  restless, 
she  kept  looking  this  way  and  that,   and  finally 


86  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

slipped  off  the  nest  and  flew  away  through  the 
bushes.  Hardly  had  she  gone  than  the  male 
bullfinch  arrived  with  the  food.  His  "  taken 
aback "  look  when  he  found  she  had  vanished 
was  quite  laughable;  however,  he  fed  and 
attended  to  the  young  before  flitting  away  in 
the  direction  in  which  she  had  disappeared. 
Evidently  when  the  young  are  first  hatched  the 
cock  does  all  the  foraging,  supplying  both  his  mate 
and  the  family  with  food  at  intervals  varying 
from  fifteen  minutes  up  to  half  an  hour.  I  noted 
the  next  day  that  though  the  female  left  the  nest 
twice  she  did  not  bring  back  food,  while  the  male 
arrived  each  time  with  his  crop  bulging  with 
what  he  had  gathered.  As  a  rule  he  divided  his 
supplies  with  the  hen,  the  latter  having  backed  off 
the  nest  when  she  heard  him  coming.  When  she 
had  received  her  share,  they  would  stand  on  either 
side  of  the  frail  structure,  and  feed  and  attend 
to  the  nestlings.  They  would  gaze  at  the  mites 
with  what  looked  like  intense  pride  and  affection, 
and  when  the  hen  settled  down  to  brood  again 
she  seemed  the  personification  of  motherly  love. 
All  the  time  I  watched  her  I  never  saw  her  doze 
or  even  close  her  eyes,  though  at  times  the  heat 
was  oppressive  enough  to  send  any  creature  to 
sleep.  Her  keen  black  eyes  never  even  winked, 
and  she  always  seemed  on  the  alert.  The  flat, 
black,  somewhat  hawklike  heads  of  the  bullfinches, 
with  their  strong  thick  bills,  always  reminded  me,  for 
some  unknown  reason,  of  the  wall  paintings  of  hawk- 
headed  gods  on  the  ancient  Egyptian  monuments  ! 


I.    WAITING. 

The  hen  Bullfinch  has  settled  down  to  wait  patiently  until  her  mate's  return.     A  small 
portion  of  the  last  meal  will  be  seen  sticking  to  tlie  side  of  her  beak. 

2.    THE    RETURN. 
The  nuile  IJuIlfinch  at  last  arrives,  his  throat  and  crop  being  distended  willi  food. 


THE    BULLFINCH  87 

The  first  time  I  saw  the  female  bullfinch  bring 
food  for  the  family  was  on  May  29th,  when  I 
began  my  watch  at  11. 10.  My  notes,  made  while 
I  waited,  run  as  follows  :  "  Very  hot,  the  air 
full  of  drowsily  humming  flies,  a  few  birds  singing, 
a  hen  cuckoo  bubbhng  and  her  mate  cuckooing. 
An  owl  rouses  himself  to  hoot  vigorously,  at  which 
a  blackbird  or  two  break  into  hysterical  shrieks. 
The  young  bullfinches  seem  much  distressed  by 
the  heat,  and  lie  gasping  all  the  time  with  their 
heads  over  the  edge  of  the  nest.  They  have 
grown  enormously,  almost  doubhng  in  size  during 
the  last  two  days.  The  female  returns  (11. 18), 
feeds  and  covers  them.  This  is  the  first  time 
she  has  brought  back  food.  She  too  seems  to 
feel  the  heat,  notwithstanding  the  nest  is  well 
shaded,  and  sits  gasping  with  her  beak  open. 
The  male,  who  has  seen  her  home,  has  gone  off 
with  a  beakful  of  excrement.  At  11.45  the  cock 
appears  with  food.  Both  attend  to  the  young, 
and  the  two  leave  together.  At  12.23  they  both 
return,  the  male  with  food,  the  female  without. 
The  cock  this  time  seems  to  have  difficulty  in 
bringing  up  his  supplies.  After  several  attempts 
to  regurgitate,  and  looking  meanwhile  most  bilious, 
he  eventually  flies  away.  The  hen  seems  restless 
and  uneasy ;  after  covering  the  young  for  a  moment 
or  two,  she  rises,  steps  out  of  the  nest,  almost 
upsetting  one  of  the  httle  ones  as  she  does  so, 
and  flies  after  him. 

"  At  12.55  both  bullfinches  return,  each  bringing 
food,  with  which  they  feed  the  youn^'.     Then  the 


88  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

hen  opens  her  beak,  exactly  as  if  appealing  to  the 
cock  to  give  her  more  food,  and  he  thrusts  his  bill 
down  her  throat.  It  seems  to  me  that  he  is  really 
helping  himself  to  the  food  she  has  left;  at  any 
rate  he  does  this  several  times,  each  time  turning 
to  the  nestlings  and  giving  them  something.  He 
then  leaves,  and  she  broods  the  little  things  for 
a  few  moments.  She  next  pulls  a  fibre  out  of 
the  nest,  which  appears  to  have  got  out  of  place, 
and  flies  away  with  it.  At  1.23  the  female  appears 
alone,  feeds  the  family,  and  broods  them  until 
her  mate  returns  at  1.38,  when  he  feeds  and  attends 
to  them,  and  the  two  depart  together.  At  2.15 
they  are  back  again,  but  do  not  stop  after  feeding 
the  young  and  cleaning  up.  Leave  the  tent  at 
2.20." 

From  this  time  forward  the  pair  invariably 
foraged  together,  returning  together  with  their 
supplies,  and  behaving,  in  fact,  like  a  most  devoted 
couple.  Except  when  the  hen  stayed  to  brood  the 
young  for  a  while,  the  cock  never  moved  without 
her.  They  each  had  their  own  path  by  which 
they  approached  the  nest.  He  invariably  flew 
on  to  the  roof  of  my  tent  and  thence  to  a  particular 
twig  in  front  of  the  nest,  but  she  came  from  the 
back,  slipping  quietly  through  the  branches,  and 
appearing  suddenly  on  the  farther  side  of  the  nest. 
Sometimes  the  pair  notified  their  approach  with 
their  mournful  call-notes,  and  at  other  times  came 
silently,  but  however  quietly  they  came  it  was 
seldom  that  they  took  the  nestlings  by  surprise. 
The  young  ones  nearly  always  knew  when  they 


THE    BULLFINCH  89 

were  near,  and  often  the  first  intimation  that  I 
had  of  the  return  of  the  old  birds,  was  the  sight 
of  five  heads  shooting  up  into  the  air.  The 
young  ones  were  extremely  sensitive  to  the  sHghtest 
vibration  of  the  branches,  and  it  was  no  doubt 
the  slight  shaking  that  told  them  when  their 
parents  were  at  hand.  Only  once  did  I  see  the 
cock  bullfinch  take  food  from  the  hen,  which 
episode  I  have  described  above,  but  he  several 
times  gave  it  to  her,  though  not  as  often  as  she 
wanted.  She  would  stand  with  open  beak  mutely 
appealing  to  him,  but  more  often  than  not  he 
took  no  notice  and  went  on  with  the  business  in 
hand,  paying  no  attention  to  her  despite  the 
open  beak. 

After  the  first  six  days  the  parents  shared  their 
duties  equally,  both  as  regards  feeding  and  carrying 
of  excreta.  Their  visits,  which  to  begin  with  had 
been  at  twenty-minute  intervals,  got  farther  and 
farther  apart,  until,  by  the  time  the  young  were 
ready  to  fly,  food  was  only  brought  once  in  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  or  even  longer.  Once  or 
twice  the  old  birds  were  away  for  more  than  an 
hour,  with  the  result  that  the  nest  had  become 
quite  dirty  during  their  absence,  but  they  cleaned 
it  up  carefull}^  on  their  return. 

It  was  surprising  how  fast  the  nestlings  grew; 
when  only  seven  days  old  I  noted  :  "  The  young 
grow  like  mushrooms  ;  they  seem  to  have  doubled 
in  size  in  the  night,  and  are  much  stronger,  for  they 
can  now  hold  their  heads  right  up  in  the  air. 
When  they  do  so,  with  their  great  bHnd  eyes  and 


90  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

long  trembling  necks,  they  are  grotesquely  reptilian 
in  appearance,  their  clown-like  tufts  of  down 
adding  to  their  weird  appearance."  This  appear- 
ance altered  as  rapidly  as  their  size  increased, 
and  they  soon  had  stumpy  feathers  showing,  the 
first  appearing  on  the  eighth  day,  when  I  wrote 
that  "  though  comparatively  helpless  yet,  their 
eye-sHts  only  beginning  to  open,  they  have  some 
idea  of  trying  to  preen  themselves.  One  made  a 
valiant  effort  on  the  young  stumpy  feathers  that 
are  appearing  on  its  shoulder,  but  failing  in  the 
attempt,  yawned  widely,  and  settled  down  to  doze 
until  the  old  birds  came  home." 

They  sometimes  appeared  quite  bored  with  the 
long  waits  and  would  yawn  widely.  Though  the 
bills  of  the  old  birds  were  so  intensely  black,  those 
of  the  young  ones  were  creamy  white,  only  beginning 
to  deepen  in  hue  during  their  last  day  or  two  in 
the  nest,  so  that  even  when  they  left  it  their  beaks 
were  but  slate-coloured.  Latterly  the  five  made 
more  than  a  nestful,  they  filled  the  frail  structure 
to  overflowing,  bulging  over  its  sides  until  what 
was  originally  a  cup  became  flattened  out  into  a 
platform  of  twigs.  How  they  managed  to  remain 
safely  in,  or  rather  on  it,  puzzled  me;  indeed,  one 
youngster  did  have  a  narrow  escape,  for  the  hen, 
being  startled,  left  in  a  hurry,  and  nearly  knocked 
it  out.  For  a  second  the  nestling  balanced  pre- 
cariously on  the  edge,  but  a  wriggle  or  two  tumbled 
it  back.  Once  the  eyes  of  the  young  bullfinches 
were  open,  they  began  to  see  and  to  understand 
what  was  going  on  around  thern.     They  began  to 


THE    BULLFINCH  91 

recognize  me  as  strange  and  dangerous,  crouching 
low  in  the  nest  as  I  approached  them  and  remaining 
motionless  until  I  was  hidden  in  the  tent.  Once 
I  was  out  of  sight,  they  sat  up,  raised  their  heads, 
stared  about,  fidgeted,  preened  their  fast-growing 
feathers,  dozed,  woke  up  again,  yawned  and 
stretched,  in  short  passed  the  time  as  best  they 
could  until  the  return  of  their  dilatory  parents. 
When  they  heard,  or  rather  felt,  them  coming, 
what  a  change  came  over  the  family  !  All  five 
heads  shot  up  into  the  air,  pointing  in  the  same 
direction,  then  as  the  hen  appeared  on  one  side 
of  the  nest,  and  the  cock  on  the  other,  they 
quivered  all  over  in  eager  anticipation.  The  old 
birds  would  regard  them  for  a  moment,  when  you 
could  see  how  swollen  and  distended  their  throats 
were  with  supplies  ;  then  the  cock  fed  one,  and 
afterwards  a  second,  pushing  his  beak  down  their 
gaping  throats  and  pumping  up  the  food,  while 
his  mate  did  the  same  for  the  two  on  her  side  of 
the  nest.  The  food  having  been  delivered,  the  pair 
usually  stood  and  looked  at  their  family  for  a  few 
moments,  watching  to  see  if  matters  sanitary 
wanted  attention,  and  generally  each  carried  some 
excrement  away.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the 
droppings  of  nestlings  are  usually  coated  with  a 
non-adhesive  slimy  covering,  so  that  they  do  not 
stick  to,  or  dirty  anything,  with  which  they  may 
be  brought  in  contact,  hence  the  old  birds  are 
able  to  keep  the  nest  clean  without  soiling  them- 
selves. 
I   have   already   mentioned  how  distressed  the 


92  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

young  were  by  heat.  The  weather  was  very  warm 
from  the  time  they  hatched  until  they  left  the 
nest,  and  the  sight  of  them  lying  gasping  in  the 
strangest  attitudes  about  the  nest  did  much  to 
convince  me  that  the  choice  of  a  nesting  site 
(nearly  always  in  the  heart  of  a  thick,  deeply 
shaded  bush,  for  preference  an  evergreen)  is  due 
to  the  bullfinch  seeking  shade  and  coolness  such 
as  the  heart  of  a  young  fir  tree  affords. 

At  fifteen  days  old  the  young  bullfinches  were 
fully  fledged,  and  the  frail  nest  threatened  to  give 
way  with  their  weight,  but  the  next  morning, 
the  sixteenth  day,  saw  it  relieved  of  its  burden. 
They  were  sitting  on  the  edge  of  it,  looking  at 
the,  to  them,  wide  world  of  fir  trees  and  bramble 
bushes,  when  I  came  into  view  between  the  spruces. 
The  sight  decided  them :  with  one  accord  they 
tumbled  into  the  trees.  I  had  a  glimpse  of  five 
pale  greyish-white  editions  of  their  parents  flitting 
a  little  uncertainly  through  the  dark  boughs,  also 
a  momentary  vision  of  the  ga}^  cock  and  his  demure 
mate  leading  them  away.  For  a  little  longer  I 
heard  the  melancholy  call-note  of  the  old  birds, 
and  then  the  bullfinch  family,  fairly  launched  into 
the  wide  world,  had  vanished  for  good. 

This  family  flew  on  the  sixteenth  day  after 
hatching,  the  neighbouring  young  ones  on  the 
fourteenth  or  fifteenth  ;  in  both  cases  incubation 
took  fourteen  days  ;  and  in  the  case  of  the  nest 
that  I  watched  carefully  it  was  thirty-two  days 
from  the  time  the  first  egg  was  laid  until  the  young 
fled,  which  was  on  June  8th. 


THE    BULLFINCH  93 

(Pyrrhula  pyrrhula  pileata,  MacGillivary,  is  the 
title  of  our  British  bullfinch,  which  differs  slightly 
from  the  Continental  bird  P.  p.  europoea,  Vieillot, 
in  that  the  female  is  greyer.  P.  p.  pyrrhula,  Linn., 
the  northern  bullfinch,  is  a  North  European  form 
that  visits  us  sometimes  when  on  migration,  and 
which  may  be  known  by  its  decidedly  larger  size.) 


CHAPTER  V 
THE    FOX 

A  MOST  beautiful  animal  is  the  British  fox, 
being  perhaps  as  lovely  as  any  creature  we 
have.  I  shall  never  forget  the  first  fox  I 
ever  saw,  though  but  a  small  child  at  the  time. 
My  father  had  taken  me  for  a  Sunday  morning 
walk  through  the  woods,  following  a  path  that  led 
by  a  swift  and  noisy  brook  that  tumbled  over  a 
rocky  bed.  We  were  standing  at  the  stream  side, 
watching  a  dipper  hopping  from  stone  to  stone, 
when  something  stirred  in  the  bracken  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  water.  The  autumn  frosts  had 
turned  the  fern  yellow  and  brown,  but  the  golden 
gleam  that  caught  the  eye  was  redder  than  even 
the  sunlit  bracken.  There,  not  twenty  yards 
away,  stood  a  fox  gazing  at  us.  His  coat  shone 
golden-red  in  the  sunlight,  his  black-tipped  ears 
were  pricked,  his  delicately  pointed  muzzle  was 
turned  in  our  direction,  and  so  he  stood,  with  one 
dainty  black  paw  held  up,  looking  at  us ;  next 
moment  he  was  gone,  disappearing  noiselessly 
into  the  fern  ;  but  the  memory  remained,  a  memory 
of  a  vision  of  wild  beauty. 


THE    FOX  95 

For  perfect  beauty,  combined  with  intelligence, 
the  fox,  in  my  opinion,  is  without  a  rival  in  all 
the  wide  world  of  wild  animals.  Some  people 
say  that  its  abilities  are  much  overrated,  but 
— though  not  crediting  it  with  superhuman  under- 
standing— to  this  I  cannot  agree.  A  fox  nearly 
always  keeps  its  wits  about  it,  and  seldom  loses 
its  head.  Watch  as  I  have  done,  my  presence 
unsuspected,  an  old  dog-fox  disturbed  by  the  sound 
of  hounds  in  the  distance,  slipping  quietly  away 
from  the  covert  where  he  has  lain  since  daybreak, 
and  it  is  obvious  that  he  has  a  good  idea  of  the 
danger  that  threatens.  The  sound  of  the  horn 
has  floated  down  the  breeze  to  rouse  him  from 
slumber,  from  that  light  sleep  which  is  always  of 
the  "  one  eye  open  "  description,  and  he  is  now 
fully  on  the  alert.  He  slips  through  the  covert 
fence,  pauses,  and  looks  back,  listening  for  any 
sounds  which  may  tell  what  the  hounds  are  doing. 
The  light  glances  on  the  golden-brown  of  his  coat, 
on  his  pricked  ears,  on  his  slender  muzzle  traced 
with  black,  on  his  white  chest,  and  on  his  neat 
paws  also  finished  with  black — those  long,  narrow, 
dainty  pads,  that  are  capable  of  bearing  him  many 
a  mile  over  hill  and  dale,  and  which  are  such  a 
contrast  in  shape  and  make  to  the  so-called  "  cat 
feet "  of  his  foes.^  The  sunlight  shows  too  his 
graceful,  slender,  yet  powerful  outline  against  the 
dark  green  of  a  gorse  bush,  and  the  dull  yellow 
of  some  withered  grass ;  it  seems  to  strike  fire  from 

'  The  fashionable  EngUsh  foxhound  has  such  an  extremely 
short,  rounded  foot  that  to  a  naturalist  it  appears  almost  deformed. 


96  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

his  glowing  coat,  which  gleams  red  at  every  move- 
ment. Down  the  wintry  breeze  comes  the  sound 
of  horses  trotting,  and  then  the  voice  of  the  hunts- 
man putting  hounds  into  covert,  but  they  are  a 
long  way  off  as  yet,  and  the  fox  appears  well 
aware  there  is  no  need  for  hurry.  From  the 
leisurely  way  he  sits  down  on  his  haunches,  mean- 
while licking  his  nose  reflectively,  one  might  think 
he  is  weighing  up  the  chances  of  the  pack  getting 
on  the  line  of  some  other  fox.  But  all  the  time 
his  keen,  somewhat  catlike,  amber-coloured  eyes  are 
fixed  in  the  one  direction,  and  when  there  comes 
the  sound  of  the  horn,  he  jumps  up,  and  with  a 
whisk  of  his  white-tagged  brush  trots  leisurely 
away.  He  is  cool  and  collected,  in  no  hurry 
whatever,  but  determined  to  take  no  unnecessary 
risks,  and  if  the  pack  should  get  on  his  line  he  has 
assured  himself  of  a  good  start.  The  blackbirds 
shriek  abuse  at  him  from  the  hedgerows,  but  he 
pays  no  attention  to  them,  and  slips  silently  from 
sight,  disappearing  like  the  passing  of  a  red-brown 
shadow  between  the  bushes. 

Another  episode  which  illustrates  the  coolness 
of  a  fox  in  the  face  of  danger  was  that  in  which 
a  hunted  fox  took  refuge  on  a  ledge  in  a  quarry. 
He  was  quite  fresh,  not  having  been  hunted  long, 
but  he  made  for  the  quarry  where  there  was  a 
high  cliff.  In  full  view  of  a  number  of  people  he 
was  seen  to  run  along  a  narrow  ledge  into  the 
cliff,  a  ledge  so  narrow  that  only  a  fox  or  a  cat 
could  have  found  foothold  on  it,  until  he  came  to 
a  spot  where  it  became  a  trifle  wider.     Here  he 


THE    FOX  97 

deliberately  lay  down,  curling  himself  up  with 
his  brush  over  his  nose,  and  thus  remained,  in  full 
view  of  everybody,  apparently  indifferent  to  the 
hounds  baying  above  and  below.  Sticks  and 
stones  were  flung  at  him,  but  all  fell  short  of  the 
mark,  and  he  remained  unmoved  for  nearly  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  when  some  one,  aiming  better 
than  the  rest,  hit  him  with  a  bit  of  stone.  He 
was  up  and  away  in  an  instant,  being  out  over 
the  top  of  the  cliff  before  huntsman  or  pack 
knew  what  had  happened.  They  hunted  him 
for  an  hour  afterwards,  but  he  beat  them  in 
the  end. 

If  it  were  not  for  hunting,  where  would  the 
fox  be  ?  Almost  certainly  a  refugee  like 
the  wild  cat  and  the  marten  in  the  most  rocky 
recesses  of  the  hills,  trapped  and  persecuted, 
harried  and  shot,  and  only  holding  its  own  in 
the  most  remote  districts.  As  it  is,  toleration  is 
the  portion  of  the  fox  throughout  England,  Ireland, 
and  the  Lowlands  of  Scotland,  but  with  that 
toleration  it  has  not  degenerated  into  a  semi- 
domesticated  creature  like  the  pheasant.  No, 
wherever  we  meet  with  the  fox  it  is  a  wild  animal, 
fearing  and  shunning  man  and  all  his  works,  a 
hunter  of  rabbits,  birds,  and  mice,  a  raider  of 
poultry-yards,  and  sometimes  in  mountainous 
districts  a  slayer  of  young  lambs.  It  is  rarely 
that  the  lowland  foxes  commit  the  latter  crime, 
it  takes  an  old  hill  fox  to  do  it.  The  average  fox 
of  our  English  woods  lives  on  much  smaller  fare, 
rabbits  being  the  principal   item   in  its  menu,  as 

7 


98  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

can  be  proved  by  examining  the  droppings,  which 
are  invariably  full  of  rabbit  fur.  From  the  same 
source  will  be  obtained  evidence  that  many  other 
things  are  not  despised,  down  even  to  grubs  and 
insects.  It  is  often  astonishing  the  number  of 
beetle  wings,  or  rather  wing-cases,  that  will  be 
found  in  the  excrement,  the  hard  elytra  having 
passed  through  undigested.  The  fact  is  that  a 
fox  will  eat  many  unexpected  things,  from  beetles, 
frogs,  and  fish,  to  even  fruit.  It  has  a  liking  for 
sweet  things,  and  I  knew  a  tame  fox  that  would 
do  anything  for  jam.  There  is  undoubtedly  some 
foundation  for  the  fable  of  the  fox  and  the  grapes. 
Foxes  are  also  very  fond  of  mice,  in  particular  the 
short-tailed  meadow  voles,  which  are  so  plentiful 
in  long  grass.  They  will  watch  for  and  pounce 
upon  them,  often  killing  numbers ;  indeed,  the 
successful  stalking  of  field  mice  seems  to  be  the 
first  step  in  the  education  of  the  cubs,  when  they 
begin  to  learn  their  profession  as  hunters. 

That  the  fox  is  a  hunter  is  plainly  shown  by 
the  way  it  steps.  It  should  be  contrasted  with 
the  badger,  which  is  not  a  hunter  but  largely  a 
scavenger  and  grub-eater.  The  latter  puts  its 
feet  down  anyhow,  one  pad  here,  another  there, 
careless  of  whether  it  makes  a  noise  or  not.  The 
fox  moves  as  silently  as  a  shadow,  and  an  examina- 
tion of  its  tracks  will  show  the  reason  why.  It 
is  not  only  careful  where  it  puts  its  front-feet 
down,  but  when  it  has  moved  them  it  takes  care 
to  bring  the  hind-pads  forward  on  to  the  exact 
spots   vacated   by   the   fore-paws.      They  register 


THE   FOX  99 

so  exactly  that  the  trail  might  be  that  of  a  two- 
legged  creature.  Thus  there  is  no  careless  stepping 
on  cracking  twigs,  or  rustling  leaves,  that  might 
alarm  the  prey  that  is  being  stalked.  The  habit, 
moreover,  is  so  deeply  ingrained  in  its  nature  that 
it  always  walks,  and  even  trots,  in  the  same 
manner,  whether  it  is  hunting  or  no.  It  is  only 
when  it  breaks  into  a  hurried  gallop  that  it  forgets 
to  place  its  feet  precisely,  and  then  its  trail  is 
like  that  of  a  dog,  for  it  bounds  along  with  exactly 
the  same  gait.  At  other  times  the  only  creature 
with  which  the  fox  can  be  compared  in  the  precision 
with  which  it  places  its  feet  is  the  cat.  She  also 
is  a  hunter  and  an  adept  in  the  art  of  silent  stalking. 
It  will  be  found  that  she,  too,  puts  her  hind-feet 
exactly  on  the  spot  vacated  by  the  fore.  After  a 
light  fall  of  snow  is  the  best  time  to  see  and  study 
this.  Then  the  movements  of  the  creatures  of  the 
night  can  be  read  easily  by  those  who  know  the 
language  of  track  and  trail.  You  can  trace  the 
midnight  wanderings  of  the  fox,  and  learn  how 
he  passed  by  brake  and  brier  bush,  through  the 
woods,  and  down  to  the  stream  to  drink,  you  will 
find  where  his  favourite  crossing-place  is,  and  how 
he  stalked  mice,  rabbits,  and  other  creatures. 
The  snow  will  reveal  how  he  visited  the  farm- 
yard, hoping  no  doubt  that  the  hens  had  not  been 
shut  up,  and  one  can  track  his  small  neat  foot- 
steps even  up  to  the  fowlhouse  door.  But,  though 
one  may  trail  a  fox  for  miles  through  the  snow, 
it  is  strange  how  seldom  you  will  find  trace 
of    him    killing,    and    it    is    evident    that    a    fox 


100  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

may  travel  half  the  night  before  he  meets  with 
any  luck. 

On  one  occasion,  when  following  the  track  of 
a  fox,  I  came  to  a  place  where  it  was  evident  that 
he  had  stopped  short  and,  after  a  pause,  stepped 
forward  slowly  and  cautiously.  The  last  foot- 
prints were  pressed  deep  into  the  snow,  and  it 
was  evident  that  he  had  sprung  forward,  for  there 
was  a  clear  space  of  a  yard  and  a  half,  beyond 
which  was  a  trampled  circle  of  snow  and  red  earth. 
On  one  side  were  two  or  three  freshly  raised  mole- 
hills, showing  dark  against  the  surrounding  white- 
ness. Next  was  another  trampled  and  pressed 
circle  of  snow,  in  the  midst  of  which  lay  the  frozen 
carcass  of  a  mole.  A  careful  examination  of 
the  spot  left  no  doubt  as  to  what  had  happened. 
The  fox  had  been  jogging  alone  when  he  had 
noticed  the  snow  heave,  and,  promptly  stopping, 
had  waited  and  watched  the  mole  raising  its  new 
hillock,  until  the  animal  at  last  pushed  its  way 
through  the  soft  earth  and  came  out  on  the  surface, 
when  he  sprang  upon  it,  and  killed  it  with  a  single 
nip.  Having  killed  it,  he  found  it  far  from  his 
taste,  so  tossed  it  about  two  or  three  times,  dropped 
it  on  the  snow,  rolled  on  it,  and  went  on  about 
his  business. 

Moles  are  greatly  disliked  by  the  majority  of 
flesh-eating  animals  and  birds,  which,  unless  pressed 
by  hunger,  invariably  refuse  them,  the  only 
exception  I  know  of  being  the  buzzard,  which 
makes  moles  quite  a  considerable  item  in  the 
rations  of  its  young.     It  has  always  been  a  mystery 


THE    FOX  101 

to  me  how  this  bird  manages  to  catch  so  many, 
but  can  only  suppose  that  it  watches  for  those 
which  are  unwary  enough  to  venture  for  a  moment 
to  the  surface  of  the  ground. 

Another  small  creature  that  the  fox  will  kill, 
but  not  eat,  is  the  common  shrew.  Like  cats 
and  dogs,  it  will  not  eat  this  little  animal,  being 
apparently  disgusted  by  the  peculiar  smell. 
Curiously  enough,  owls  do  not  share  this  dislike, 
consuming  quantities  of  shrews,  but  probably  their 
sense  of  smell  is  not  so  keen  as  that  of  the  fox, 
dog,  and  cat. 

To  return  to  the  trail  left  by  a  fox,  it  is  of  course 
much  more  difficult  to  track  one  when  the  snow 
has  gone,  but  even  then  much  can  be  done  if  you 
know  what  to  look  for  and  where  to  search  for 
the  signs.  On  damp  footpaths,  in  places  where 
the  soil  is  soft  and  wet,  and  by  the  margins  of 
the  streams,  you  will  find  that  neat  little  footprint 
which  was  impressed  by  the  pad  of  a  fox.  The 
track  is  small  compared  with  that  of  the  average 
dog,  and  is  narrow  in  proportion  to  its  length. 
When  a  raid  has  been  made  on  a  hen-roost  it  is 
not,  however,  usually  necessary  to  look  for  such 
details  as  pad-marks,  for  the  very  way  in  which 
the  robbery  has  been  committed  will  decide 
whether  the  fox  was,  or  was  not,  the  culprit.  A 
fowl  is  a  big  mouthful  for  a  fox,  it  is  as  much  as 
it  can  do  to  carry  it,  especially  if  the  bird  is  still 
able  to  flap  a  little,  so  every  few  steps  it  has  to  stop 
and  readjust  its  grip.  The  result  is  that  the 
course  the  fox  takes  is  strewn  with  feathers.     There 


102  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

is  not  only  the  ring  where  the  fox  pounced  on  the 
hen,  but  its  efforts  to  get  a  good  grip  result  in  many 
others.  You  may  thus  trace  the  direction  in 
which  the  victim  was  carried  off,  but  if  it  was 
a  dog-fox  unencumbered  by  family  responsibilities 
that  did  the  deed,  he  will  not  have  taken  her  far. 
You  will  soon  come  to  the  spot  where  he  stopped 
and  ate  the  hen,  or  part  of  her,  for  a  fox  seldom 
disposes  of  a  whole  fowl  at  one  meal.  However, 
he  invariably  takes  care  of  what  is  left,  burying 
it  in  some  molehill  or  other  loose  soil  which  affords 
good  digging,  and  returning  for  it  in  a  day  or  two. 
My  impression  is  that  a  fox  prefers  his  food  some- 
what "  high,"  and  that  he  will  have  several  such 
"  caches."  At  any  rate  I  know  that  he  seldom 
forgets  to  return  and  finish  the  buried  treasure, 
but  he  is  highly  suspicious,  and  if  he  smells  any- 
thing that  suggests  human  interference  he  leaves 
it  severely  alone. 

If  a  vixen,  with  cubs  to  provide  for,  takes  a 
fowl,  the  trail  will,  to  begin  with,  be  much  the 
same,  but  instead  of  the  hen  being  eaten,  it  will 
become  evident  it  was  carried  right  away,  for 
she  has  borne  it  off  to  the  cubs.  It  is  a  curious 
thing  that,  as  a  rule,  a  vixen  will  not  kill  near 
home,  but  goes  some  little  way  off  to  hunt.  Perhaps 
she  does  not  want  to  draw  attention  to  her  litter, 
but  at  any  rate  it  is  rare  for  her  to  take  anything 
close  to  the  earth.  I  have  known  cases  of  fowls 
roosting  out  in  trees  near  a  covert  where  there 
was  a  vixen  and  cubs,  yet  they  were  never  inter- 
fered with.     Provided  fowls  are  properly  shut  up 


a      r. 


u     " 

D   C3 


THE   FOX  103 

at  night  there  is  nothing  to  be  feared  from  foxes, 
but  when  they  are  allowed  to  roost  where  they 
choose,  or  when  the  hens  "  steal  their  nests,"  as 
the  farmers'  wives  express  it,  the  matter  is  very 
different.  The  country  people  have  some  curious 
ideas  as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  fox  manages 
to  secure  birds  that  are  roosting  on  branches  high 
out  of  reach.  "  He  charms  'em  down,"  they 
say;  "he  just  stares  an'  stares  at  'em  until  they 
flies  down  into  his  mouth  !  " 

Another  story  is  that  the  fox  "  Takes  his  tail 
in  his  mouth  an'  runs  round  an'  round  in  a  circle 
under  the  trees,  when  them  fowls  stares  an'  cackles, 
an'  stares  an'  cackles,  an'  at  last  flies  down  to 
see  what  he  be  about !  " 

At  the  bottom  of  these  wild  and  impossible 
stories  there  lies,  I  believe,  two  small  grains  of 
truth,  namely  that  fowls  are  intensely  inquisitive, 
also  very  nervous  and  easily  frightened.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  excitement  that  was  caused  when  I 
took  a  tame  fox  through  the  farmyard ;  the  ducks 
quacked  and  waddled  after  him,  while  the  cocks 
and  hens  cackled,  all  following  as  near  as  they 
dare  come;  in  fact,  there  was  a  great  commotion. 
After  seeing  this  I  could  well  believe  that  hens 
at  roost  in  a  tree  might,  if  disturbed  by  a  fox  prowl- 
ing beneath,  work  themselves  up  into  such  a  state 
of  "  nerves  "  that  they  would  eventually  fly  off 
their  perches.  Once  on  the  ground  their  fate 
would  be  sealed  ! 

That   a  fox  will   often   kill  when   he   does   not 
need  food  cannot  be  disputed.     He  will  slay  for 


104  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

pleasure,  for  sport,  and  that  is  why  he  does  so 
much  harm  among  poultry ;  for  he  is  not  content 
to  slay  one  hen  to  stay  the  pangs  of  hunger,  but 
will  kill  all  he  can. 

Among  game  the  fox  does  more  harm  in  the 
late  spring  than  at  any  other  time  of  year,  newly 
hatched  pheasant  and  partridge  chicks  falling 
easy  victims.  He  also  takes  a  good  many  sitting 
birds,  though  a  surprising  number  elude  his  keen 
nose.  A  sitting  pheasant  or  partridge  gives  off 
but  little  scent.  While  sitting  motionless  on  her 
eggs  a  bird  is  fairly  safe,  for  her  sombre  brown 
and  grey  plumage  harmonizes  so  well  with  her 
surroundings  that  she  is  practically  invisible,  and 
her  tell-tale  scent  is  reduced  to  a  minimum.  It 
is  the  latter  which  is  the  most  likely  to  betray 
her  to  a  passing  fox,  for,  like  all  wild  animals,  the 
fox  depends  more  on  its  nose  than  its  eyes.  To 
the  wild  world  the  breeze  carries  a  varied  collection 
of  scents  and  odours,  so  that  to  birds  and  beasts 
it  is  more  laden  with  news  than  the  most  go-ahead 
of  newspapers  is  to  us.  So  the  fox,  roaming  the 
country-side  on  a  spring  evening,  depends  on 
his  sensitive  black  nose  to  warn  him  of  danger,  to 
find  his  mate,  and,  last  but  not  least,  to  discover 
his  night's  meal.  But  the  sitting  pheasant  or 
partridge  is  almost  odourless,  and  she  is  seldom 
disturbed  until  the  end  of  her  task  is  in  view. 
Then  the  dangerous  time  arrives,  when  tiny 
mysterious  cheepings  are  heard  in  the  eggs,  and 
the  proud  mother  becomes  restless.  She  raises  her 
weight   from   the   eggs,   sits   lightly,   shifts   about, 


THE    FOX  105 

and  behaves  as  though  eager  for  the  chicks  to 
break  their  shells  so  that  she  may  take  them  off. 
With  all  these  restless  movements  her  characteristic 
odour  is  spread  about  and  rises  through  the  air, 
so  if  a  fox  chances  to  pass  by  before  she  can  get 
the  family  away,  both  she  and  her  chicks  are 
doomed.  Again  and  again  one  will  find  cases 
of  pheasants  and  partridges  being  captured  when 
about  to  hatch  out  their  eggs,  and  every  farmer's 
wife  will  tell  you  how  the  hens  that  "  steal  "  their 
nests  (i.e.  steal  away  and  make  their  nests 
under  a  bush  or  in  a  hedgerow)  are  usually  taken 
by  the  fox  when  on  the  point  of  hatching  out 
their  eggs. 

The  ground-nesting  birds  have  certainly  many 
risks  to  face,  and  when  the  partridge,  for  example, 
has  safely  hatched  out  her  dozen  or  more  dainty 
brown  speckled  chicks  she  has  by  no  means  done 
with  the  fox,  she  has  still  his  keen  nose  to  dread, 
which  will  surely  scent  out  those  helpless  mites 
unless  she  takes  care.  However,  she  is  not  without 
guile — when  the  hunter  of  the  night  comes  at 
dusk  questing  across  the  meadows,  he  often  puts 
up  a  wounded  bird,  that  flaps  feebly  in  front 
of  him,  trailing  a  broken  wing  as  it  endeavours 
to  get  away,  yet  which  is  able  to  elude  his  rushes 
in  a  strangely  agile  manner.  After  the  fox  has 
made  several  futile  dashes  at  it,  being  lured  farther 
each  time  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  crouching 
chicks,  the  partridge  suddenly  finds  it  can  use  its 
wings  quite  well,  and  flies  away,  leaving  him 
befooled, 


106  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

With  this  old,  old  "  broken  wing  trick,"  part- 
ridges, lapwings,  etc.,  draw  foxes,  dogs,  and  cats 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  their  young,  but  even 
this  clever  make-believe  does  not  always  save  the 
chicks.  Yet,  taking  all  in  all,  the  fox  probably 
destroys  more  young  rabbits  than  it  does  birds. 
Where  rabbits  are  plentiful  you  will  find  trace 
of  scores  of  nests  being  raided.  When  a  fox  by 
means  of  its  keen  sense  of  smell  ascertains  there 
are  young  ones  in  a  rabbit  hole,  or  when  it  comes 
across  one  of  those  sealed  nurseries  which  the 
doe  has  closed  by  filling  the  mouth  with  earth 
and  stamping  it  down,  it  does  not  attempt  to 
scratch  a  way  in  from  the  mouth  of  the  hole,  but 
quests  about  on  the  top  of  the  ground,  until  it 
locates  the  spot  beneath  which  the  young  ones 
are  lying,  and  then  digs  straight  down  upon  them. 
A  badger  goes  to  work  in  the  same  manner,  but 
it  makes  a  bigger  entrance.  The  work  of  a  fox 
is  unmistakable ;  the  hole  is  small,  round,  and 
neat,  and  goes  straight  down  into  the  burrow,  so 
that  the  unfortunate  young  rabbits  are  extracted 
with  a  minimum  of  time  and  labour. 

Writing  of  the  manner  in  which  foxes  capture 
their  prey  reminds  me  to  mention  that  the  dog- 
fox is  a  devoted  mate,  and  that  when  one  finds 
evidence  of  birds  and  rabbits  having  been  carried 
off,  it  does  not  follow  it  was  a  vixen  taking  food 
home  to  the  cubs,  it  may  have  been  the  dog-fox 
undertaking  the  same  duty,  and  helping  to  keep 
the  family  supplied.  From  what  one  hears  and 
sees  I  judge  that,  at  any  rate  during  the  breeding 


THE   FOX  107 

season,  each  pair  of  foxes  has  its  own  territory, 
from  which  they  do  not  wander  far,  and  on  which 
other  foxes  do  not  poach. 

Though  for  the  greater  part  of  the  year  the 
fox  is  a  silent  creature,  seldom  giving  vent  to  its 
feelings,  yet  there  is  one  time  when  it  finds  its 
voice,  namely  in  the  winter  when  mating  takes 
place.  On  a  quiet  evening  in  December  or  January 
you  will  hear  the  foxes  calling.  It  is  a  peculiar 
short,  sharp  bark  that  they  give,  but  it  is  quite 
unlike  the  bark  of  a  dog,  being  just  "  Wough  ! 
wough  !  "  then  silence,  the  two  barks  being  re- 
peated after  an  interval  of  some  seconds.  I  have 
heard  a  fox  barking  from  the  same  spot  for  half 
an  hour  or  more,  but  as  a  rule  they  bark  as  they 
travel,  you  hear  the  call  in  one  spot,  and  in  a  few 
moments  somewhat  farther  on,  and  so  can  tell  the 
course  the  fox  is  taking.  The  restless  cur-dog 
barking  from  some  farmyard  need  never  be  confused 
with  a  fox,  for  it  barks  steadily,  continuing  with 
hardly  a  pause  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  at 
a  time,  but  the  fox  never  gives  more  than  three 
yaps  together,  and  usually  it  is  but  two.  Heard 
close  at  hand  the  sound  seems  hardly  a  bark, 
but  appears  to  be  a  gasp,  as  if  made  by  suddenly 
expelling  the  breath.  Heard  unexpectedly  in  the 
dark  it  is  quite  startling,  but  is  not  nearly  so  hair- 
raising  as  the  cry  of  the  vixen,  as  will  be  presently 
recounted.  By  the  way,  it  is  probable  the  vixen 
barks  as  well  as  the  dog-fox,  but  it  is  certainly  the 
latter  whose  yap  we  chiefly  hear  echoing  through 
the   woods  in    December   and   January.     Barking 


108  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

begins  in  December  and  continues  through  January 
into  February.  One  does  not  hear  much  after 
the  middle  of  the  latter  month,  though  now  and 
again  you  may  hear  a  solitary  bark  in  March  or 
even  in  April. 

To  hear  foxes  barking  you  should  go  out  at  the 
"  edge  of  night  "  and  wait  and  listen,  but  it  will 
be  no  use  if  the  evening  is  a  wet  or  windy  one. 
Bad  weather  damps  the  spirits  of  the  creatures  of 
the  dark,  rain  and  wind  silencing  even  the  owls. 
Yet  if  the  evening  is  calm  and  fine,  it  does 
not  follow  that  you  will  hear  anything,  for  there 
seems  to  be  factors  beyond  our  appreciation  which 
govern  the  activities  of  the  wild  world.  What  I 
mean  is  that  one  night  the  country-side  will  be 
full  of  life,  owls  hooting  in  every  direction,  badgers 
grunting  on  their  nightly  rounds,  and  foxes  barking 
on  all  sides  ;  yet  the  next  evening,  which  to  our 
comparatively  dull  human  senses  is  just  as  fine 
and  beautiful  as  the  last,  not  a  thing  will  be 
stirring,  woods  and  meadows  seeming  devoid  of 
life.  Possibly  wild  animals  are  more  sensitive 
than  we  to  atmospheric  pressure.  I  mean  that 
with  a  "  high  glass  "  their  spirits  rise,  and  vice 
versa  as  the  barometer  goes  down.  At  any  rate 
I  have  never  noticed  any  great  activity  with  a 
falling  glass. 

Writing  of  foxes  barking  reminds  me  of  an 
evening  when,  on  going  out  to  listen,  I  heard  them 
barking  on  all  sides.  It  was  barely  dark  when 
the  first  began.  "  Wough  !  wough  !  "  came  faintly 
from  the  distant  dark  smudge,  which  in  the  failing 


THE   FOX  109 

light  indicated  a  wood-clothed  valley.  The  nearer 
coverts  loomed  black  and  forbidding  through  the 
twilight,  and  from  their  dim  and  mysterious  recesses 
came  the  hoot  of  first  one  owl  and  then  another. 
Hill  and  valley  echoed  with  their  thrilling  cries, 
mingled  with  which  came  faintly  the  bark  of  another 
fox.  It  was  a  long  way  off  and  in  the  opposite 
direction  to  the  first;  both,  it  was  evident,  had  just 
emerged  for  the  night's  prowl,  and  were  greeting 
all  and  sundry.  By  the  way,  a  fox  as  a  rule  barks 
early  in  the  evening,  before  beginning  his  night's 
hunting,  and  it  is  exceptional  to  hear  one  later. 
A  fox  will  sometimes  bark  on  his  way  home  in  the 
morning,  but  even  that  is  not  usual.  The  general 
practice  is  to  begin  soon  after  dark,  and  continue 
at  intervals  for  an  hour  or  perhaps  more,  and  then 
go  off  about  the  business  of  the  night. 

On  the  evening  of  which  I  am  writing  another 
and  yet  another  fox  joined  in,  until  it  seemed  as 
if  there  were  at  least  twenty  barking.  Most  of 
the  cries  came  from  far  away,  from  the  distant 
woods  across  the  valley,  but  one  rang  out  quite 
clearly,  the  fox  was  not  a  field's  length  off.  Allow- 
ing for  the  fact  that  most  of  the  animals  were  on 
the  move,  that  not  one  of  them  would  call  twice 
from  the  same  spot,  which  made  the  number 
barking  seem  much  greater  than  it  really  was, 
there  must  have  been  eight  or  nine  calling  within 
a  mile  radius  of  the  spot  where  I  stood.  "  Wough  ! 
wough  !  "  came  again  the  bark  of  the  nearest  fox, 
nearer  still  this  time,  and  sounding  weird  and 
thrilling  in  the  dark,  through  which  one  could  see 


110  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

little  save  the  indistinct  black  shapes  of  some 
cattle  that  were  lying  out  in  the  meadow.  Vainly 
I  peered  into  the  darkness  in  the  hope  of  seeing 
something  of  the  one  that  called,  for  I  felt  sure  the 
fox  was  making  for  a  certain  gap  in  the  fence, 
whence  he  would  pass  round  a  pond,  and  up  the 
bank  to  some  gorse  bushes  where  there  is  a  big 
colony  of  rabbits.  If  you  listen  to  the  foxes  night 
after  night,  if  you  study  their  trails  left  in  gap 
and  gateway,  you  will  find  that  they  have  their 
highways,  their  recognized  paths,  and  that  these 
are  used  year  after  year.  I  know  of  a  certain 
small  gap  in  a  hedge,  a  mere  run  through  the 
bottom  of  it,  nearly  always  used  by  any  fox 
crossing  that  part  of  the  country.  In  the  morning 
one  will  find  a  bit  of  brown  hair  caught  on  a  brier, 
and  maybe  a  pad-mark  in  the  soft  earth  ;  there  may 
even  be  a  whiff  of  that  rank  smell  so  characteristic 
of  the  animal.  But  all  this  has  already  been 
alluded  to  when  speaking  of  tracking  and  trailing, 
and  we  must  return  to  the  evening  which  was 
being  described,  when  all  the  foxes  in  the  country- 
side seemed  to  have  gone  mad. 

Hardly  had  the  nearest  one  barked  than  fox 
after  fox  repfied  to  the  challenge,  or  love-song, 
for  it  was  probably  the  latter.  At  any  rate  it 
was  something  more  serious  than  mere  rabbit 
hunting  which  had  set  all  the  foxes  of  the  district 
barking  hke  a  lot  of  silly  dogs.  The  explanation 
of  the  excitement,  the  answer  to  all  these  calls, 
came  suddenly  and  unexpectedly — out  of  the 
darkness   near   at   hand   came   a   wail,    a   terrible 


THE   FOX  111 

mournful  cry,  rising,  and  shivering  away  through 
the  still  night  air,  like  the  last  gasping  cry  of  a 
lost  soul  in  torment.  A  mixture  of  a  whine,  a 
gasp,  a  spit,  and  a  howl,  which  startled  even  the 
hooting  owls  into  silence.  Though  I  knew  well 
what  it  was,  it  made  me  shiver,  it  rasped  my  nerves 
until  I  could  have  screamed  too.  It  trembled  to 
and  fro  on  the  echoes  ere  dying  awa}^  into  silence, 
after  which,  for  some  minutes,  not  a  sound  save 
the  shght  rustling  of  the  leaves  upon  the  trees  was 
to  be  heard.  Then  again  rose  the  gruesome  cry, 
cutting  through  the  peaceful  night,  and  making 
one  wonder  if  after  all  it  could  come  from  the 
throat  of  any  mere  animal,  or  was  uttered  by 
some  lost  soul  wandering  beneath  the  trees.  It 
is  no  matter  for  surprise  that  the  country  people 
think  there  are  spirits  abroad  in  the  midnight 
woods,  when  this  is  the  sort  of  thing  they  may 
chance  to  hear  if  they  wander  through  them  after 
dark.  Yet,  after  all,  it  is  but  the  mating  cry 
of  the  vixen,  her  answer  to  her  wooers,  the  foxes 
which  have  been  barking  to  her. 

On  this  occasion  they  replied  to  her  from  all 
sides,  and  three  times  at  intervals  she  screamed 
her  answer,  after  which  silence  fell,  save  for  a  fox 
that  yapped  once  in  the  far  distance,  and,  though 
I  listened  long,  I  heard  no  more — the  night  held 
the  secret  of  what  had  taken  place.  What 
happened  ?  Did  that  fox  which  had  barked  so 
near  find  favour  with  the  lady,  and  did  she  accept 
him  as  her  mate  ?  Or  did  she  decline  them  one 
and  all,  and  go  off  somewhere  else  to  make  her 


112  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

choice  ?     Who  can  say  ?     The  gloomy  night  told 
no  tales  ! 

The  dog-fox  certainly  wanders  far  afield  in 
the  breeding  season,  especially  in  districts  where 
foxes  are  not  too  numerous,  when  he  may  have 
to  cover  miles  of  country  to  find  a  mate.  It  is 
under  such  circumstances  that  hounds  have  had 
their  greatest  runs,  for,  caught  sleeping  out  far 
from  headquarters,  a  fox,  at  the  first  hint  of  danger, 
immediately  makes  for  home.  Then  it  is  that 
extraordinary  points  are  recorded  and  that  history 
is  made. 

I  have  often  wondered  how  a  fox  manages 
that  mates  with  a  vixen  far  from  his  own  territory, 
for  there  is  plenty  of  evidence  to  show  that  the 
pairs  keep  together,  the  male  helping  to  provide 
for  the  family,  so  when  a  fox  allies  himself  with  a 
vixen  of  a  strange  district,  does  he  make  her 
come  home  with  him,  or  does  he  go  and  live  in  her 
country  ?  I  fancy  the  latter,  for  it  is  the  vixen 
which  will  select  the  place  in  which  the  cubs  are 
to  be  reared. 

Before  going  on  to  write  of  the  cubs,  it  must 
be  mentioned  that  the  courtship  is  not  always 
a  peaceful  one,  for  sometimes  rival  suitors  do 
battle  for  the  lady's  favours.  My  brother  once 
had  the  luck  to  be,  not  an  eye-witness, but  an  "ear- 
witness,"  of  a  fight.  He  was  coming  through  a 
wood  just  as  it  was  getting  dark  when  he  heard 
a  fox  bark.  He  stopped  to  listen,  and  soon  heard 
another  call  in  the  opposite  direction,  to  which 
the    first    replied,    whereupon    a    vixen    screamed 


THE   FOX  113 

from  the  shelter  of  the  bushes  but  a  few  yards 
away.  The  dog-foxes  answered  simultaneously, 
after  which  he  heard  them  come  pattering  over 
the  dry  fallen  leaves  with  which  the  wood  was 
carpeted.  Next  there  was  a  hissing  growl,  followed 
by  much  spitting  and  hissing,  which  suddenly 
resolved  itself  into  a  confused  noise  of  rolling, 
tumbling,  and  snarling,  the  undergrowth  breaking 
and  tearing  as  the  combatants  struggled  to  and 
fro.  For  ten  minutes  or  more  it  went  on,  during 
which  he  could  not  see  a  thing,  though  it  was 
evident  from  the  noise  they  w^ere  fighting  furiously. 
The  battle  ended  abruptly,  there  was  a  pause, 
and  he  heard  them  gallop  off.  Whether  they  had 
had  enough  of  the  combat,  or  whether  one  of  them 
had  caught  his  scent  and  had  taken  alarm,  he  did 
not  know  ;  they  vanished  into  the  night  and  the 
darkness  betrayed  no  more. 

In  this  country  fox-cubs  are  born  from  February 
to  May,  but  the  former  month  is  exceptionally 
early,  the  end  of  March  and  beginning  of  April 
being  the  more  usual  time.  Previous  to  the 
arrival  of  her  family  the  vixen  explores  all  the 
holes  in  the  neighbourhood,  from  proper  fox 
earths  to  mere  rabbit  holes,  that  are  likely  to  make 
good  nurseries,  and  when  she  has  made  her  choice 
remains  near  it,  or  even  uses  it  as  her  daily  retreat. 
Very  often,  especially  if  a  rabbit  hole  has  been 
chosen,  the  abode  has  to  be  altered  and  enlarged, 
when  the  freshly  drawn  pile  of  soil  without,  tells 
the  tale  of  what  has  been  happening  underground. 
The  type  of  hole  the  vixen  prefers  above  all  others 

8 


114  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

is  situated  in  a  layer  of  sand,  with  a  stratum  of 
clay  above.  The  latter  keeps  the  abode  dry, 
while  the  sand  affords  easy  digging.  In  such  a 
spot  she  soon  excavates  a  proper  earth.  But 
circumstances  alter  cases,  and  among  the  mountains 
a  crevice  in  the  rocks  may  have  to  content  her, 
but  even  in  such  districts  there  are  usually  well 
recognized  fox  earths;  for  instance,  on  the  Lake- 
land Fells  there  are  great  "  borrans  "  that  have 
been  the  refuge  of  foxes  for  many  succeeding 
generations,  and  in  which  cubs  are  reared  annually. 
As  said  before,  circumstances  alter  cases,  and  there 
is  one  district,  a  certain  far-extending  tract  of 
woodland,  where  it  is  not  uncommon  for  cubs  to 
be  born  and  reared  above  ground.  The  under- 
growth is  very  thick,  and  a  vixen  will  sometimes 
make  her  nursery  in  its  most  impenetrable 
recesses,  and  therein  rear  her  family  as  a  hare 
rears  her  leverets  in  a  form. 

Of  course  vixens  often  move  their  litters  ;  indeed, 
it  is  only  necessary  for  a  person  to  go  near  an 
earth  in  which  there  are  cubs  to  make  the  old 
fox  carry  them  off  the  next  night.  That  fear  of 
man,  and  all  his  works,  which  is  so  strongly  im- 
planted in  every  wild  creature  is  doubly  intensified 
in  the  anxious  mother,  and  at  the  least  hint  of 
interference  she  picks  up  her  cubs,  taking  them 
one  at  a  time,  and  carries  them  to  one  of  the 
many  holes  within  her  beat. 

This  mention  of  moving  cubs  reminds  me  of  a 
story  told  me  by  an  ex-gamekeeper.  "  My  late 
master    didn't    like    too    many    foxes    about,"    he 


THE   FOX  115 

explained,  "  so  when,  one  day,  I  found  there  was 
a  Utter  of  cubs  in  a  certain  earth,  I  soon  fetched 
some  help,  and  we  set  to  work  to  dig  them  out. 
I  thought  we  should  get  the  vixen  as  well,  but, 
though  we  found  the  cubs  all  right,  she  wasn't 
with  them,  and  it  was  the  old  fox  I  wanted  worst 
of  all.  After  thinking  for  a  bit  I  sent  the  men 
off  home,  and  then  took  the  cubs  and  put  them 
down  in  a  patch  of  fern  a  few  yards  from  the 
earth.  They  were  quite  young  and  much  too 
small  to  crawl  away,  but  they  kept  whining,  and 
I  made  sure  that  she  would  come  back  towards 
evening  and  would  then  either  hear  or  wind  them, 
and  that  if  I  waited  quietly  behind  a  tree,  down 
wind  of  where  they  lay,  I  would  get  a  shot  at  her. 
Well,  I  waited  and  waited,  but  nothing  happened, 
not  so  much  as  a  grass  blade  stirred,  and  I  will 
swear  I  never  took  my  eyes  off  the  spot.  At 
last  the  dusk  began  to  fall,  the  owls  started  hooting, 
and  then  I  gave  it  up.  I  went  to  pick  the  cubs 
up,  but  they  weren't  there  !  I  remembered  they'd 
stopped  whimpering  some  time  before,  yet  I 
couldn't  believe  they'd  gone.  I  searched  every- 
where, and  then  it  dawned  on  me  that  that  blessed 
old  vixen  must  have  fetched  them  from  under 
my  nose  !  There  was  a  bit  of  a  ditch,  not  much 
of  one,  which  she  must  have  crawled  up.  It 
was  hardly  more  than  a  furrow  in  the  ground, 
still  that  was  the  only  way  she  could  have 
done  it,  and  she  must  have  made  the  journey 
five  times,  for  there  were  five  cubs,  and  all  were 
gone." 


116  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

Such  was  the  story  as  told  me,  and  he  added 
that  he  never  discovered  where  she  took  them 
to. 

Litters  of  cubs  vary  much  in  number,  but  five 
or  six  is  the  average.  For  the  first  few  days  the 
vixen  Ues  with  her  family,  but  she  soon  gives 
that  up,  only  visiting  them  as  required,  mean- 
while keeping  guard  somewhere  near,  very  often 
lying  just  by  the  earth.  As  they  grow  older  and 
can  see  well  the  cubs  are  very  like  a  lot  of  mis- 
chievous puppies,  and  if  the  old  fox  lay  with 
them  she  would  indeed  have  a  troubled  time, 
but  this  she  avoids,  as  already  pointed  out,  by 
taking  up  her  station  outside  and  visiting  them 
at  intervals. 

As  the  appearance  and  development  of  the 
young  cubs  is  very  fully  described  in  the  next 
chapter,  I  shall  have  little  to  say  about  cubs  here, 
except  to  mention  that  it  is  astonishing  the  varia- 
tion you  will  find  within  a  litter.  One  will  have 
hardly  any  tag  to  its  Httle  brush,  the  next  will 
have  a  great  deal  of  white,  another  will  have  quite 
a  dark  coat,  and  the  fourth  will  be  a  particularly 
light-coloured  fox.  Such  differences  are  indepen- 
dent of  sex,  and  one  of  the  finest  tags  I  have 
seen  decorated  the  brush  of  a  vixen.  The  old 
idea  that  a  white  tag  denotes  a  dog-fox  is  quite 
wrong. 

It  has  also  been  stated  that  the  mountain  fox 
is  a  bigger  and  finer  animal  than  that  of  the  Mid- 
lands of  England;  certainly  hill  foxes  are  often 
a  large  size,  but  we  get  big  foxes  in  the  lowland^ 


THE    FOX  117 

too.  Where  the  hill  fox  scores  is  that  it  has  to 
travel  farther  and  work  harder  for  a  living,  rabbits 
being  scarce  on  the  Welsh  Hills,  on  the  Fells  of 
the  Lake  District,  and  on  the  Scotch  Highlands, 
so  it  usually  has  to  cross  a  lot  of  country  before  it 
finds  a  meal.  This  means  that  it  is  a  bolder,  wider- 
ranging  fox,  but  of  real  difference  there  is  none, 
and  throughout  the  British  Isles  we  have  but 
the  one  species. 

In  conclusion  I  would  like  to  give  a  word  of 
advice  to  any  one  who  may  contemplate  making 
a  pet  of  a  fox — that  is  don't.  The  fox  is  one  of 
the  most  beautiful,  charming,  and  fascinating  of 
creatures,  but  it  is  always  a  wild  animal  which 
should  be  roaming  the  woods.  It  has  no  grain 
in  its  character  of  that  devotion  to  man  which 
makes  the  dog  what  it  is.  I  have  had  several 
tame  foxes,  and  been  well  acquainted  with  many 
others,  and  can  only  say  that  the  fox  is  not  a 
domesticatable  creature ;  however  tame  your 
cub  may  be,  there  sooner  or  later  comes  a  time 
when  you  must  either  turn  it  loose  in  the  woods, 
or  condemn  it  to  become  a  captive,  tied  up  by 
collar  and  chain,  or  imprisoned  in  a  kennel,  when 
it  leads  a  dull,  unhappy,  monotonous  existence. 
Far,  far  better,  to  let  it  live  out  its  woodland 
life,  whether  short  or  long,  with  its  joys  and  sudden 
dangers,  its  surprises  and  excitements. 

(According  to  the  present  classification  there  are 
two  species  of  fox  in  Europe,  the  common  red  fox, 
Vulpes  vulpes,  Linn.,  of  the  Continent  as  a  whole, 


118  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

and  a  smaller  kind  peculiar  to  Corsica  and  Sardinia 
called  V.  ichnusae  by  Miller.  The  first-named  species 
is  subdivided  into  three  forms,  these  sub-species 
being  V.  v.  vulpes,  Linn.,  of  Scandinavia  ;  V.  v. 
crucigera,  Bechstein,  of  central  Europe,  including 
the  British  Isles  ;  and  V.  v.  silacea,  Miller,  a  light- 
coloured  race  found  in  Spain.  V.  v.  crucigera 
differs  from  the  northern  form  of  the  red  fox  in  having 
smaller  and  less  robust  teeth.) 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE    **CALL    OF    THE   WILD" 

(BEING    THE    HISTORY    OF    A    TAME   FOX) 

HAVING  given  some  account  of  the  fox 
at  home  in  its  native  wilds,  I  am  going 
to  devote  a  chapter  to  the  history  of  a 
tame  one,  as  the  story  shows  what  a  real  force 
is  the  "  call  of  the  wild." 

It  was  early  in  April — April  5th,  to  be  exact — 
when  two  tiny  fox-cubs  were  brought  to  me. 
They  were  very  small  and  young,  not  more  than 
two  days  old  at  the  most,  and  I  gazed  in  dismay 
at  the  tiny,  grey,  kittenish  things,  for  I  knew  it 
would  be  an  almost  impossible  task  to  rear  them, 
yet  there  was  something  so  babyish  and  motherless 
about  them  that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  refuse 
to  try. 

They  were  a  dark  grey-brown,  almost  mouse 
colour,  in  tint ;  they  had  snub  noses,  and  short 
tails  that  were  already  tipped  with  white  ;  their 
tiny  ears  lay  flat  against  their  heads  ;  they  were, 
of  course,  bhnd,  and  had  not  a  trace  of  teeth  ; 
indeed,  they  were  just  like  newly  born  kittens, 
and  no  one  who  had  never  seen  very  young  fox- 

110 


120  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

cubs  before  would  have  imagined  that  they  could 
develop  into  long-legged  graceful  creatures. 

Putting  them  under  my  coat  to  keep  them  warm, 
I  tried  to  think  of  ways  and  means  by  which  I 
might  take  the  place  of  the  vixen  ;  but  the 
whimpering  of  the  little  animals  showed  that  so 
far  they  did  not  think  much  of  the  exchange. 
The  first  thing  was  to  feed  them.  I  got  some 
warm  milk  and  a  fountain-pen  filler,  made  a  hole 
with  a  pin  in  the  indiarubber,  and  tried  to  get 
them  to  suck  the  milk  through  it.  It  is  wonderful 
what  strength  and  obstinacy  there  is  in  the  youngest 
of  babies — whether  human  or  otherwise — and  these 
blind,  helpless  mites  refused  most  resolutely  to 
suck.  It  seemed  as  if  they  would  never  take 
any  milk,  but  with  patience  I  at  last  overcame 
their  objections.  Time  after  time  I  slipped  the 
indiarubber  teat  between  the  clenched  toothless 
gums ;  at  last  one,  the  smaller,  bit  at  it  and 
accidentally  swallowed  some  milk,  after  which 
she  began  to  suck  and  there  was  no  more  trouble. 
But  the  bigger  cub,  a  male,  took  longer  than 
the  little  vixen  to  learn  where  warm  milk  was 
to  be  had  ;  still  he  found  out  at  last,  and  was 
then  the  greedier  of  the  two.  In  a  wonderfully 
short  time,  considering  how  tiresome  they  were  to 
begin  with,  they  learnt  to  know  sounds,  and  also 
the  smell  of  my  fingers,  and  would  wriggle  out  of 
their  warm  bed  as  soon  as  I  put  my  hand  near 
them. 

But  this  is  getting  on  too  fast  ;  I  must  go  back 
to  where,  having  got  each  to  swallow  a  few  drops 


1.  thp:  cun  at  four  days  old. 

2.  TOBY    AT    FOURTEEN    DAYS    OLO. 


THE    **  CALL    OF    THE   WILD  "      121 

of  milk,  I  was  wondering  how  they  were  to  be 
kept  warm  and  comfortable.  The  problem  was 
solved  by  means  of  a  basket,  a  soft  piece  of  flannel- 
ette, an  old  blanket,  a  hot-water  bottle,  and  the 
hot-air  cupboard.  In  the  meantime  my  family 
made  remarks  and  criticisms,  which  varied  from 
my  brother's  jeering  advice,  "  You  had  better 
take  them  to  bed  with  you,"  to  my  mother's 
despondent  forecast  of,  "  They  will  not  live  a 
week,  and  it  would  be  far  kinder  to  put  them 
out  of  their  misery  ;  "  but  they  all  took  great  pains 
to  help  me,  and  without  their  assistance  I  should 
never  have  succeeded  in  rearing  "  Toby,"  as  the 
vixen  was  named. 

The  cubs  required  endless  attention.  To  begin 
with  I  fed  them  every  two  hours,  the  last  meal 
in  the  evening  being  between  9.0  and  9.30, 
and  the  first  in  the  morning  between  5.0  and 
5.30.  Thinking  to  save  time  and  trouble  in 
the  early  hours  of  the  morning,  I  one  night 
carried  their  basket  into  my  bedroom,  but  about 
two  o'clock  was  roused  by  their  whimpering. 
Turning  over  sleepily,  I  said  to  myself  that  the 
cubs  would  have  to  wait  until  daybreak,  but  they 
had  no  intention  of  doing  so,  and  the  whining 
rose  to  almost  a  shriek  !  Despairing  of  sleep,  I 
had  to  get  up,  go  downstairs,  light  the  spirit- 
lamp,  heat  some  milk,  and  feed  them,  after  which 
they  cuddled  up  together  against  their  hot  bottle 
and  went  to  sleep  again.  I  got  back  into  bed 
wondering  whether,  after  all,  rearing  fox-cubs 
was  worth  the  trouble. 


122  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

At  first  they  only  had  a  few  drops  of  milk  at 
each  meal,  but  as  I  lengthened  the  intervals  I 
gave  them  more  at  a  time.  It  was  undiluted 
new  milk,  and  appeared  to  suit  them,  for  they 
throve  on  it,  growing  fast,  and  being  always 
hungry.  Even  at  this  early  age  they  were  fascinat- 
ing little  things,  there  was  something  so  appeahng 
about  their  helplessness  and  in  the  way  after 
they  had  fed  they  would  lie  in  my  hands  and  go 
to  sleep.  When  put  back  in  the  basket  they 
promptly  crawled  and  wriggled  on  to  the  top  of 
the  water-bottle,  where  they  lay  full  length,  either 
side  by  side  or  one  on  the  top  of  the  other.  The 
dog  cub,  who  was  called  Jack,  was  decidedly 
bigger  and  more  forward  than  Toby,  though  she 
was  the  first  to  open  her  eyes.  This  was  not  until 
the  17th  of  April,  that  is  the  twelfth  day  after 
I  had  them,  when  I  should  assume  her  to  be 
fourteen  days  old  ;  however,  it  was  but  one  eye, 
and  only  half  open  at  that.  Her  eyes  were  not 
properly  open  until  the  22nd,  when,  according  to 
my  calculation,  she  would  be  nineteen  days  old. 
The  slowness  of  the  development  of  fox-cubs  in 
this  respect  is  similar  to  that  of  polecats,  ferrets, 
stoats,  etc.  ;  possibly  it  has  something  to  do 
with  preventing  the  young  ones  straying  out  of 
the  hole  when  their  mother  is  away,  and  while  they 
are  yet  too  young  to  run  back  at  the  approach 
of  danger. 

Before  Toby  had  reached  this  stage  a  sad  mishap 
had  taken  place — Jack  had  caught  cold  and  had 
died  suddenly.     I  was  entirely  to  blame.     He  had 


THE    *'CALL    OF    THE   WILD"      123 

a  trick  of  scratching  at  the  flannel  cover  of  the 
hot-water  bottle,  and  it  made  his  soft  little  feet 
quite  sore.  I  used  grease,  cold-cream,  etc.,  upon 
them,  but  could  not  get  them  right,  and,  on  con- 
sidering the  matter,  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  water-bottle  was  unnecessary,  for  cubs  would 
not  have  any  heating  apparatus  under  natural  con- 
ditions in  an  earth,  and  the  vixen  must  be  away 
for  many  hours  at  a  time ;  so  I  took  it  from  them 
during  the  day.  The  result  was  that  next  morning 
Jack  refused  to  suck,  he  was  not  hungry  again 
in  the  afternoon,  and  at  dawn  the  next  day  I  found 
him  dead.  Bitterly  did  I  blame  myself,  but  it 
was  too  late,  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  see  that 
little  Toby  never  needed  something  warm  to  lie 
against.  The  consequence  was  that  she  had  her 
hot  bottle  filled  several  times  daily,  until  she  was 
quite  big,  and  had  long  ceased  to  need  it.  After 
this  she  was  indeed  a  pampered  pet !  If  I  was 
out  for  an  hour  or  two  my  mother  looked  after 
her,  and  one  of  us  was  continually  playing  with 
or  feeding  her.  When  once  her  eyes  were  open 
she  became  quite  lively  and  active,  and  began  to 
play,  making  little  feeble  pounces  at  our  fingers, 
and  pretending  to  worry  them.  Her  teeth  were 
now  appearing,  little  sharp  pin  points  that  made 
themselves  felt  on  one's  fingers,  and,  judging  that 
with  their  advent  she  would  be  ready  for  solid  food, 
I  offered  her  bits  of  meat.  Though  it  was  rabbit 
flesh,  the  most  natural  food  one  can  offer  a  fox, 
she  resolutely  turned  her  snub  nose  away,  until 
I  accidentally  placed  a  piece  of  rabbit  meat,  with 


124  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

the  fur  attached,  before  her.  She  smelt  it,  with 
as  Httle  interest  as  before,  until  her  nose  touched 
the  fur,  but  the  moment  she  brushed  against  the 
fur  she  growled  like  a  little  fury,  at  the  same  time 
seizing  and  shaking  the  bit  of  rabbit.  It  was  the 
first  time  I  had  heard  her  growl,  but  there  was 
no  mistake  about  it !  The  interesting  part  was 
that  she  showed  no  understanding  of  what  the 
raw  rabbit  flesh  was,  but  that  when  she  touched 
the  soft  fur  it  awoke  the  instinct  to  pounce  upon 
and  worry  a  furry  thing,  and  thereafter  she  appeared 
to  know  all  about  meat.  An  episode  of  this  sort 
makes  one  wonder  what  passes  in  the  mind  of 
a  young  animal  when  it  acts  instinctively.  Does 
the  rousing  of  the  inherited  impulse  bring  with  it 
a  full  understanding  of  what  is  done,  or  does  this 
understanding  only  come  with  time  and  experi- 
ence ?  I  expect  the  latter,  for  it  is  obvious  to  any 
one  who  watches  animals  that  though  they  may 
depend  on  instinct  in  some  particulars,  they  learn 
from  experience,  and  in  many  cases  are  taught 
by  the  old  ones. 

I  did  not  let  the  cub  have  much  meat  the  first 
time  for  fear  of  upsetting  her,  but  there  were  no 
evil  consequences,  and  henceforward  flesh  was 
included  in  her  daily  ration.  Milk  still  formed  the 
greater  part,  but  it  was  now  taken  from  a  baby's 
bottle,  the  fountain-pen  filler  having  been  abandoned 
after  the  first  few  days.  I  must  here  remark,  for 
the  benefit  of  others  who  may  be  contemplating 
bottle-feeding  a  young  animal,  that  I  had  great 
difficulty  in  getting  a  teat  with  a  hole  small  enough. 


THE    **  CALL    OF    THE    WILD  "      125 

When  it  was  too  big  the  Httle  thing  took  the  milk 
too  fast,  either  being  choked  by  the  rapid  stream, 
or,  if  able  to  swallow  it,  getting  violent  indigestion 
from  having  taken  it  so  quickly.  Try  as  I  would 
I  could  not  get  one  that  was  quite  right,  and  had 
to  resort  to  all  sorts  of  expedients  to  prevent  the 
cub  from  getting  the  milk  more  rapidly  than  she 
should. 

When  Toby's  eyes  first  opened  they  were  a  dull 
grey-blue  like  those  of  a  small  kitten,  and  it  was 
a  long  time  before  the  irides  assumed  the  amber 
hue  of  the  adult  fox,  the  tint  altering  at  about 
the  same  rate  her  coat  changed.  At  twenty-two 
days  old  she  was  just  beginning  to  turn  from 
mouse-grey  to  brown,  especially  about  the  face 
and  muzzle,  at  which  time  her  nose,  which  had 
been  flesh-coloured,  began  to  darken,  turning 
first  grey,  and  at  last  black.  In  a  sketchy  manner 
she  began  to  acquire  the  markings  of  an  old  fox, 
but  it  still  required  a  great  deal  of  imagination 
to  make  a  fox  of  this  blunt-nosed  roly-poly  little 
creature,  wdth  her  woolly  grey  coat,  and  short 
feeble  legs.  She  was  nearly  five  weeks  old  before 
she  could  toddle  at  all,  but  having  once  begun 
to  "  feel  her  legs,"  as  they  say  of  babies,  she 
soon  got  strong  upon  them,  and  became  quite 
active.  At  this  stage  I  had  to  leave  home  for 
a  week,  during  which  time  my  mother  was  good 
enough  to  take  charge  of  the  cub,  and  when  I 
came  back  I  was  astonished  at  the  change.  In 
seven  days  she  had  altered  wonderfully,  and  had 
become    quite    the    little    fox.     The    amount    she 


126  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

had  grown  was  really  surprising:  her  ears  had 
developed,  her  eyes  were  bright  and  inquisitive, 
and  her  tail — it  could  not  yet  be  called  a  brush — 
was  almost  twice  its  former  length.  She  had  now 
a  pronounced  white  tag,  which  goes  to  prove  that 
a  tag  is  no  indication  of  either  age  or  sex ;  indeed, 
as  mentioned  before,  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
brushes  I  have  seen  was  that  of  a  vixen. 

Toby,    now   six    weeks    old,    was    a   dear   little 
thing,    with   the   most    engaging   ways.     She   was 
full  of  life  and  spirits,  and  would  play  like  a  kitten, 
biting  my  fingers,  pouncing  on  them,  then  rolling 
on  her  back,  and  kicking  in  the  air  with  all  four 
feet  at  once.     She  now  required  more  space  than 
the  narrow  limits  of  the  box  to  which  she  had 
been    transferred    from    the    basket,    so    J    turned 
the   box   on   its   side   in   an   empty   room.     Here 
she  could  run  about  and  take  plenty  of  exercise, 
being  able  to  go  back  to  her  bed  when  tired.    I 
provided  a  tray  of  sand  in  a  corner  of  the  room 
with  a  view  to  training  her  in  cleanly  habits,  and 
I    must   add  that  she  proved  on   the  whole  most 
remarkably  clean,  but  the  first  use  she  put  it   to 
was  that  of  a  store  place.     Going  into  the  room, 
I  found  her  in  the  act  of  burying  a  piece  of  meat 
in  the  sand.     She   was  doing  it  beautifully,   just 
as  a  dog  buries  a  bone.     She  had  scratched  a  hole, 
and  was  just  putting  the  meat  into  it.     She  dropped 
her  treasure  in,   then  pushed  the  soil  back  with 
her  nose,  continuing  to  heap  it  up  until  she  had 
quite  a  pile.     I  found  that  the  flesh  of  old  rabbits 
suited  her  better  than  that  of  young  ones,  and 


THE    **GALL    OF   THE   WILD"      127 

that  above  all  things  she  loved  a  bone  to  gnaw 
at.  She  sometimes  growled  quite  angrily  over 
a  leg  of  rabbit,  and  if  I  persisted  in  interfering 
she  would  carry  it  away  and  hide  it.  Though 
now  able  to  eat  well,  nothing  would  induce  her 
to  lap  milk,  and  I  still  had  to  give  her  her  bottle 
every  four  hours,  it  being  some  time  before  she 
took  the  milk  from  a  saucer.  She  would  rush  to 
meet  me,  trying  to  climb  up  my  skirt,  and  the 
minute  I  sat  down  she  was  upon  my  knees.  Of 
course  her  bringing  up  had  done  away  with  fear — 
she  did  not  know  what  the  word  meant,  and  was 
not  even  timid  or  nervous  with  strangers;  indeed, 
they  always  interested  her.  She  would  sniff  their 
boots  and  legs,  and  find  out  all  she  could  about  them, 
for  her  curiosity  was  great.  She  knew  the  different 
members  of  the  family,  and  had  a  special  form  of 
greeting  for  my  mother.  She  would  run  to  her, 
smell  her  hand,  then  open  her  mouth,  as  if  in  a 
wide  grin,  at  the  same  time  making  a  panting, 
hissing  noise,  and  then  with  ears  laid  flat  to  her 
head  race  round  and  round  the  object  of  her 
attentions.  She  would  continue  this  for  two  or 
three  minutes,  until  my  mother  picked  her  up 
and  played  with  her.  It  seemed  to  be  a  demon- 
stration of  delight,  especially  as  she  was  devoted 
to  my  mother  and  would  follow  her  about.  She 
never  followed  me;  she  seemed  rather  to  expect 
me  to  follow  her  ! 

I  never  succeeded  in  instilling  the  slightest  idea 
of  obedience  into  her.  As  said  before,  she  was 
not    only    tame    but  perfectly    fearless;    she    had 


128  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

no  friends  but  human  beings,  but  she  had  no  idea 
of  coming  because  one  of  them  called  her.     She 
looked  to  no  one  for  orders  or  for  leadership.     I 
have  heard  a  theory  that  the  dog's  obedience  is 
derived   from  the  instinct  of   his  wild    ancestors, 
that  hunted  in  a  pack,  and  gave  their  allegiance 
to  a  pack  leader.     There  may  be  a  good  deal  in 
it,  for  it  is  certain  that  the  fox,  which  is  a  solitary 
animal,  has  no  more  idea  of  doing  what  it  is  told 
than  it  has  of  flying.     Not  that  Toby  was  lacking 
in  brains,  for  the  older  she  grew  the  more  intelligent 
she    became,    but    her    mentality    was    more    like 
that  of  a  cat.     The  fox  in  many  ways  has  more 
in  common  with  the  cat  than  the  dog,  and  Toby 
in   character  greatly  resembled   a  kitten,   though 
in    some    of    the    mischievous    tricks    she    played 
there  was  far  more  of  the  puppy  than  the  kitten. 
She  was  certainly  a  very  spoilt  pet,  for  we  were 
all  devoted  to  her,  and  wasted  much  time  playing 
with  her.     At  eight  weeks  old  she  was  like  a  puppy, 
galloping    all    over    the    house,    and    getting   into 
every  description  of  mischief.     She  loved  to  get 
into  the  bedrooms  and  pull  the  boots  from  under 
the   dressing-tables.     She   spoilt   one   pair   for  me 
before  I  knew  what  she  was  doing,  and  as  for  boot- 
laces she  chewed  up  an   appalling  number.     She 
simply    loved    them,    w^hich    was    queer,    as    they 
never   agreed    with   her,    seldom,    if   ever,    failing 
to    make    her    bilious.      Nevertheless    she    would 
eat  them  whenever  she  got  the  chance,  and  hardly 
ever  failed  to  take  advantage  of  an  open  bedroom 
door.     More   than   once,    after   Toby   had   visited 


X  - 

2  X 

K    - 
U 


THE    *»CALL   OF   THE   WILD '»      129 

my  father's  dressing-room,  I  had  to  pay  a  visit 
to  the  bootmaker  and  lay  in  a  stock  of  new  boot- 
laces— best  porpoise-hide,  even  in  those  days 
sixpence  the  pair  ! — so  that  I  might  replace  the 
damaged  ones  quietly,  and  without  drawing  too 
much  public  attention  to  her  misdeeds.  She  was 
not  always  content  to  attack  empty  ones,  but 
would  even  begin  pulling  at  the  boots  on  your  feet. 
Her  favourite  playthings  were  a  pair  of  old  felt 
bedroom-slippers.  She  would  rush  at  these,  pick 
up  one,  and  go  round  the  room  in  a  series  of  high 
bounds,  shaking  it  all  the  time  like  a  terrier  killing 
a  rat.  She  would  worry  it  until  tired  of  the  game, 
but,  if  I  moved  towards  it,  she  would  rush  and 
pick  it  up  and  begin  her  play  over  again.  A  ball 
kept  her  amused  for  an  hour  at  a  time  ;  she  galloped 
upstairs  and  down  with  it,  letting  it  fall,  and  then 
running  after  it,  pouncing  upon  it,  and  pretending 
to  kill  it,  until  tired  out  at  last  she  lay  down, 
curled  up,  and  went  to  sleep. 

At  first  she  was  nervous  of  venturing  out  of 
doors;  she  would  go  to  the  front  door,  and  stand 
on  the  step  sniffing  the  air  and  looking  out  on 
the  world,  but  at  the  slightest  strange  sound  would 
bolt  in  again,  even  rushing  headlong  up  the  stairs 
and  away  to  her  own  room.  But  she  soon  grew 
bolder.  She  began  by  venturing  a  few  steps, 
sniffing  at  and  investigating  everything  she  met, 
after  which  she  explored  the  gravel  drive  in  front 
of  the  house.  Next  she  found  the  lawns,  then  the 
shrubberies,  after  which  she  was  as  anxious  to 
play  about  outside  as  she  had  previously  been  to 

9 


130  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

stop  indoors.  And  how  she  did  romp,  especially 
in  an  evening !  She  would  gallop  round  and 
round,  rush  at  me,  spring  aside,  leap  and  bound 
in  the  air,  and  all  so  lightly  and  gracefully  that 
she  was  a  joy  to  watch.  Her  antics  seldom  failed 
to  attract  the  tame  wild  ducks  from  the  ponds; 
by  twos  and  threes  they  would  come  waddling 
up,  quacking  earnestly  to  one  another  as  they 
did  so,  and  evidently  bent  on  seeing  what  manner 
of  strange  creature  it  might  be  that  was  rushing 
about  in  this  wild  way.  When  they  came  near 
Toby  would  make  dashes  at  them,  scattering 
them  in  all  directions,  but  back  they  came  as  soon 
as  they  had  recovered  from  their  fright,  for  she 
exercised  the  greatest  fascination  over  them.  Not 
even  a  strange  dog  had  so  potent  an  effect.  I 
was  afraid  lest  she  should  one  day  kill  a  duck, 
for  she  amused  herself  by  doing  elaborate  stalks 
and  then  springing  at  them,  but  her  mimic  hunting 
did  not  materialize  into  anything  serious. 

Toby  also  had  great  fun  with  the  cats  and  dogs, 
though  not  one  of  them  really  liked  her.  She 
had  no  respect  for  them,  and  took  liberties  with 
their  persons  which  they  could  not  forgive.  She 
would  rush  up  and  bite  them.  The  nip  might 
be  only  a  playful  pinch,  but  there  could  be  no 
doubt  that  the  recipients  saw  little  fun  in  it, 
and  what  was  worse,  when  they  retaliated,  they 
got  into  trouble  with  me.  When  a  cat  smacked 
back,  or  a  dog  growled,  I  rated  them  ;  for  the 
cub  was  hardly  old  enough,  or  strong  enough,  to 
hold   her   own   in   the   event   of   real   strife.     The 


THE    **  CALL    OF    THE    WILD  »'      131 

result  was  that  when  any  of  the  dogs  saw  Toby 
coming  they  fled  in  the  opposite  direction.     For 
a  time  there  was  one  exception,  an  enormous  black 
and   white   cat,   which   was   a   confirmed   poacher, 
and  so,  for  his  sins,  spent  a  great  part  of  his  time 
tied  up  like  a  dog  to  a   kennel.     He  was  not  a 
good-tempered    creature,    and    I    was    afraid    lest 
he  might  hurt  the  cub  if  he  met  her  when  he  was 
allowed  out  for  a  walk,  as  he  was  an  exceptionally 
powerful  cat  and  a  dreadful  bully,  but  I  need  not 
have  been   anxious.     One   morning   I   opened  the 
door  to  let  Toby  out,  and  as  I  did  so  caught  sight 
of  Spitfire,  as  the  cat  was  called,  vanishing  round 
the  corner  of  the  house.     The   cub  saw  him  too, 
and  regardless  of  my  calls  raced  after  him.    I  ran 
after  the  two,  fearing  a  tragedy,  and  was  in  time 
to  see  the  valiant  Toby  catch  up  the  rather  startled 
cat — a  cat  accustomed  to  rule  not  only  his  own 
kind  but  to  bully  the  terriers  as  well.     The  cub 
rushed  in,  made  a  "  put  "  at  him,  and  as  he  swung 
round  she  caught  him  in  the  flank.     Judging  by 
the  squall  the  cat  gave  it  must  have  been  a  good 
bite.     The  next   thing   I   saw   was   Spitfire   flying 
for  his  life  and  Toby  in  hot  pursuit.     They  vanished 
into  a  shrubbery,  where  I  found  the  cat  up  a  tree 
spitting  at  the  cub,  who  was  looking  very  pleased 
with  herself.     I  caught  her,  and  took  her  indoors, 
and   then   tied   Spitfire   up   to   his   house.     From 
that  time  she  delighted  to  tease  him.     She  knew 
exactly  the  length  of  his  line,   and  would  dance 
round  him,  or  rush  past  just  out  of  reach.     When 
he   was    not   looking  she  stole  his    food;  in   fact, 


132  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

she  made  his  Hfe  a  burden  to  him,  and  poor 
Spitfire  had  to  endure  her  attentions,  for  he  never 
got  a  chance  of  repaying  her,  and  dare  not  if 
he  had,  for,  Hke  all  bullies,  he  was  a  bit  of  a 
coward. 

Toby,  havmg  learnt  her  way  about  the  garden, 
had  become  as  bold  out  of  doors  as  indoors,  but 
she  was  sometimes  frightened  by  strange  noises. 
She  did  not  mind  a  sound,  however  loud,  if  she 
had  heard  it  before,  but  anything  new  would 
send  her,  helter-skelter,  to  the  house.  The  fact  that 
she  always  ran  straight  home  when  frightened 
made  me  think  there  was  no  fear  of  losing  her. 
It  was  her  home,  she  had  nowhere  else  to  go,  and 
no  reason  to  run  away,  was  my  argument,  but 
I  forgot  that  most  powerful  of  impulses,  the  "  Call 
of  the  Wild,"  which  will  so  certainly  lure  a  tamed 
animal  back  to  its  native  woods.  Sooner  or  later 
the  spell  works  and  they  go.  But,  before  telling 
of  the  end,  I  must  say  how  Toby  grew  and  flourished, 
how  her  long  thin  tail  filled  out  into  a  thick  brush, 
how  her  woolly  grey  covering  gave  way  to  the 
handsome  coat  of  the  adult  fox,  and  how  at  three 
months  old  she  was  a  most  lovely  creature.  Each 
day  she  became  more  charming,  more  mischievous, 
lovable,  and  wilful. 

She  would  come  out  of  her  sleeping  box,  spring 
upon  my  knee,  and  sit  down  to  be  stroked  and 
petted,  gradually  rolHng  over,  until  she  lay  on  her 
back  on  my  lap,  so  that  I  might  tickle  and  stroke 
her  underneath.  Then,  with  many  yawns,  which 
showed    all    her    strong    white    teeth,    and    much 


I.    AND    2.    rOl'.Y    HAVING    A    GOOD    R0M1'< 
3.    TOl'.V    TEASING    SPITFIRE    THE    CAT. 


THE    **CALL    OF    THE   WILD''      133 

stretching,  she  would  reach  the  playful  point, 
and,  jumping  to  the  ground,  run  away  to  amuse 
herself  ;  or  else  begin  to  tease  me,  biting  my  shoes, 
puUing  at  my  skirt,  and  not  resting  for  a  moment 
until  I  rolled  her  over  and  joined  in  the  romp. 
By  the  way,  a  noticeable  point  about  this  cub  was 
that  she  did  not  smell  in  the  least,  there  was  no 
objectionable  foxy  odour,  and  after  playing  with 
her  there  was  no  suggestion  of  fox  upon  one's 
clothes.  As  she  was  fed  perfectly  naturally,  flesh 
forming  the  greater  part  of  her  diet,  I  can  only 
attribute  this  to  the  fact  that  her  surroundings  were 
kept  clean,  that  she  was  not  allowed  to  lie  on 
the  same  bedding  for  long.  Possibly  the  character- 
istic fox  smell  would  have  developed  as  she  got 
older. 

To  return  to  her  playful  ways,  one  evening 
she  kept  worrying  me  when  I  was  writing  a  letter, 
until,  at  last,  in  desperation,  I  flung  a  cushion 
at  her,  when  with  great  delight  she  pounced  upon 
it.  It  yielded  under  her  feet,  and  for  quite  ten 
minutes  she  jumped  up  and  down  on  it,  pouncing 
again  and  again  on  the  soft  thing,  until  tired  of  it 
she  rushed  outside.  When  she  went  into  the 
bushes  and  failed  to  pay  any  attention  to  my  calls, 
I  used  to  get  some  one  to  go  to  the  farther  side 
and  make  a  noise,  but  it  had  to  be  a  different 
one  each  time  or  the  spell  failed  to  work,  and 
instead  of  running  hastily  home  she  merely  went 
up  to  them  to  see  what  they  were  doing. 

One  evening  (it  was  July  ist,  and  even  now  I 
hardly  like  to  write  of  it)  she  went  out  as  usual 


134  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

into  the  garden  for  exercise,  played  about  for 
a  little,  and  then  I  saw  her  run  under  some  bushes. 
I  called  her  back,  but  she  did  not  come,  so  I  went 
to  see  what  she  was  doing.  I  could  not  find  her ; 
I  hunted  high  and  low,  and  looked  in  all  directions. 
Others  came  to  help,  we  all  called  and  searched, 
but  she  had  vanished.  "  She  will  turn  up 
presently,"  we  said,  reassuring  each  other,  but 
she  did  not.     We  never  saw  her  again. 

For  many  nights  the  doors  were  left  open, 
rabbit  meat  was  placed  in  readiness  for  her,  and  I 
scoured  the  country  in  all  directions,  trying  in 
vain  to  find  some  trace  of  her  ;  but  she  might 
have  been  spirited  away,  and  I  have  no  theory 
to  account  for  her  sudden  and  complete  dis- 
appearance save  the  "  Call  of  the  Wild."  She 
must  have  on  a  sudden  impulse  run  away  into  the 
woods.  Poor  little,  affectionate,  fascinating,  yet 
wilful  Toby,  I  wonder  what  her  fate  was  ?  She 
was  a  teasing,  worrying  little  imp,  but  I  would 
have  given  much  to  have  had  her  safely  back 
or  to  have  known  for  certain  that  she  could  earn 
her  own  living,  and  was  hunting  and  killing  for 
herself  in  the  wild  woods. 

{For  a  note  on  the  status  and  scientific  name  of 
the  British  fox  see  the  end  of  Chapter  V.) 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE    SPARROW    HAWK 

AN  outlaw  and  a  freebooter  is  the  sparrow 
hawk,  with  every  game-preserver's  hand 
against  it ;  we  find  it  hanging,  a  tattered 
and  weather-worn  corpse,  from  the  keeper's 
gibbet,  where  it  swings  with  crows,  magpies,  jays, 
and  other  so-called  "  vermin,"  until  the  wind  and 
rain  beat  it  down  and  it  drops  to  the  ground  to 
be  covered  by  the  kindly  ferns  and  mosses. 

Between  that  poor  remnant  of  feathers  and  bones 
and  the  fine  dashing  bird  that  puts  panic  into 
the  hearts  of  the  blackbirds  there  is  a  wide  gap, 
but  the  gun  bridges  it !  For  the  gamekeeper  is  a 
deadly  foe.  So  persecuted  is  the  sparrow  hawk 
that  it  is  quite  scarce  in  the  well-preserved  woods 
of  the  Midlands,  but  where  wild  life  has  had  its  own 
way  for  a  time  we  may  be  sure  of  meeting  with 
it.  Wherever  there  are  big  woods  and  tree-clad 
valleys  it  is  plentiful,  and  one  finds  it  throughout 
the  Welsh  "  Marches."  It  is  essentially  a  tree- 
loving  bird,  and  you  seldom  meet  with  it  away 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  timber.  The  kestrel 
one  may  see  on  the  open  moors,  or  find  nesting 

U6 


136  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

on  crags  and  cliffs,  but  the  short-winged  sparrow 
hawk  is  a  bird  of  the  woodlands.  Its  very  shape 
and  make  denote  it  a  forest  species,  being  an 
adaption  for  turning  and  twisting  through  the 
trees,  among  which  it  is  a  wonderful  flier.  It 
has  short  rounded  wings  and  a  long  tail,  so  can 
get  up  speed,  stop  and  turn,  in  a  wonderfully 
small  space.  In  a  short  sharp  dash  the  sparrow 
hawk  flies  at  a  great  pace,  but  in  a  long  flight 
many  birds  can  beat  it,  and  I  have  seen  a  thrush 
fly  right  away  from  a  big  female.  She  was  fairly 
beaten  by  it. 

Though  the  sparrow  hawk  is  often  confused  with 
the  kestrel,  there  is  really  little  resemblance. 
The  latter  belongs  to  the  long- winged  hawks,  in 
which  the  tips  of  the  narrow  wings  reach  almost 
to  the  end  of  the  tail ;  in  fact,  it  is  a  small  falcon, 
though  without  the  courage  and  dash  that  dis- 
tinguishes the  peregrine  and  the  merlin.  But  it 
has,  like  them,  great  dark  eyes  and  short,  com- 
paratively feeble,  legs.  The  sparrow  hawk  is 
quite  different;  it  is  a  typical  short-winged  hawk. 
It  has  eyes  with  wonderful  yellow  irides,  which 
give  it  an  exceptionally  keen  fierce  aspect,  long 
legs,  and  big  feet,  while  its  wings  are  short  and 
rounded,  their  tips  reaching  little  more  than  half- 
way down  its  tail.  Besides  which  the  latter  has 
a  horizontally  barred  and  pencilled  breast ;  in 
the  kestrel  the  breast  is  striped  perpendicularly. 
In  the  case  of  that  fine  Continental  bird  the 
goshawk,  which  is  like  a  sparrow  hawk  only 
much  bigger,  the  young  for  the  first  twelve  months 


THE    SPARROW    HAWK  137 

of  their  life  wear  a  striped  plumage,  which  at  the 
first  moult  gives  place  to  the  horizontal  bars  of 
maturity.  But  the  nestling  sparrow  hawk  acquires 
these  bars  straight  away. 

The  sparrow  hawk,  despite  its  sober  hues,  is 
a  handsome  bird,  being  a  study  in  ash-browns 
and  greys,  which  are  set  off  by  the  yellow  of  its 
legs  and  eyes,  the  latter  in  old  birds  approaching 
orange,  for  the  tint  deepens  with  age.  Its  plumage, 
too,  alters  with  succeeding  moults,  becoming  much 
more  grey,  especially  in  the  case  of  the  cocks, 
which  often  have  an  almost  blue  tinge  on  the 
back  and  tail. 

Even  on  the  wing  the  sparrow  hawk  need  not 
be  confused  with  the  kestrel,  for  they  fly  so  differ- 
ently. The  subject  of  this  chapter  usually  flies 
low,  especially  when  hunting,  skimming  along 
the  ground,  up  a  hedgeside,  or  darting  between 
the  trees,  when  it  will  drop  on  some  unsuspecting 
bird,  grabbing  it  in  its  needlelike  talons  and  carrying 
it  off  before  the  victim  is  even  aware  danger  is  at 
hand.  A  favourite  habit  is  to  fly  up  a  ditch, 
skim  over  the  fence,  and  dash  into  a  flock  of  small 
birds  feeding  on  the  farther  side.  With  frantic  cries 
the  birds  hurl  themselves  into  the  nearest  shelter — 
all,  that  is,  save  one,  for  the  hawk  seldom  makes 
a  mistake,  generally  securing  a  meal  and  going 
off  with  one  of  the  unfortunate  finches.  Apropos 
of  this  hawk's  habit  of  flying  along  a  hedge, 
there  must  be  mentioned  the  episode  of  one 
that  my  brother  and  I  chased  in  a  car  for  quite 
?L  mile  and  a  half.     We  were  travelhng  up  a  long 


138  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

straight  piece  of  road,  when  I  became  aware  of 
what  looked  Hke  a  dark  grey  shadow,  skimming 
up  the  ditch,  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  road, 
about  fifty  yards  ahead.  It  was  evidently  a  big 
female  sparrow  hawk,  and  she  was  keeping  the 
same  distance  ahead,  though  we  were  travelling  at 
over  twenty-five  miles  an  hour.  On  opening 
the  throttle  the  distance  between  car  and  hawk 
was  decreased  to  about  twenty  yards,  but  nearer 
than  that  she  would  not  let  us  get,  and  at  thirty- 
five  miles  per  hour  she  was  maintaining  her  distance 
nicely.  Unfortunately  the  road  began  to  twist, 
and  it  was  dangerous  to  drive  fast  round  the 
corners,  so  we  had  to  slacken  down.  She  took 
the  opportunity  to  turn  up  a  by-lane,  and  we 
thought  she  had  gone,  but  out  she  darted  again, 
and  continued  up  the  roadside.  After  another 
quarter  of  a  mile  she  went  over  the  hedge  and 
it  seemed  as  if  we  had  seen  the  last  of  her,  but 
back  into  the  road  she  came  once  more,  and  away 
she  sped  again  before  the  car.  It  was  a  strange 
chase,  but  I  do  not  think  the  hawk  was  alarmed, 
for  had  she  been  frightened  she  could  so  easily  have 
made  off;  in  fact,  it  appeared  as  if  she  was  enjoying 
pitting  her  wings  against  the  fast-moving  object 
behind  her.  Just  as  we  were  wondering  how 
much  farther  she  would  go  she  turned  over  the 
fence,  and  this  time  went  right  away,  making 
for  a  little  wood,  where  she  disappeared  among 
the  trees. 

Though  fond  of  skimming  along  near  the  ground, 
the    sparrow    hawk    will    on     occasion    go    aloft, 


THE   SPARROW   HAWK  139 

particularly  in  the  spring,  when  on  a  ifine  calm 
morning  soon  after  daybreak  you  may  see  it 
flying  high  in  the  air.  This  is  usually  over  the 
wood  where  the  nest  is  to  be.  Above  this  the 
mated  birds  will  fly  backwards  and  forwards, 
sailing  round  and  round  for  an  hour  or  more,  but 
even  then  one  can  tell  them  from  other  hawks, 
the  shape  of  their  wings  and  tail  serving  to  dis- 
tinguish them;  moreover,  they  never  hang  in  the 
air  on  quivering  wings  like  the  kestrel.  When 
you  see  a  hawk  hovering  it  is  a  certainty  that 
it  is  the  latter  on  the  look-out  for  a  mouse,  for 
it  does  not  chase  its  prey,  but  waits  aloft  until  it 
sees  something  move,  when  it  drops  like  a  stone 
upon  the  vole  or  other  small  creature.  Now  the 
sparrow  hawk  is  a  hunter,  it  chases  its  victims, 
and  when  it  goes  aloft  it  is  for  pleasure,  not 
business.  The  only  time  I  have  seen  a  sparrow 
hawk  hang  in  the  air  for  a  moment  was  in  the  case 
of  a  tame  trained  female  named  Bessie.  For 
some  reason  she  was  out  of  temper,  and  when  I 
slipped  her  at  a  blackbird  that  had  got  up  at  my 
very  feet  she  refused  to  chase  it,  flew  away,  and 
"  took  stand  "  in  a  tree.  There  she  sat  and  sulked, 
regardless  of  all  the  tempting  morsels  with  which 
I  tried  to  get  her  down.  She  took  no  notice 
whatever  of  the  good  things  offered  on  the  fist, 
and  even  "  the  lure  "  (in  this  case  a  dead  sparrow 
tied  to  a  string)  hardly  made  her  turn  her  head, 
but  when  I  left  her  alone  and  walked  off  a  little 
distance  she  began  to  take  an  interest  in  some 
object   on   the   ground.     She   peered    down,    then 


140  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

moved  along  the  branch,  and  I  saw  that  she 
was  preparing  to  drop  on  something.  Down  she 
darted,  but  just  before  reaching  the  ground  stopped 
short,  beat  with  her  wings  in  the  air,  and  hung 
hovering  for  a  moment  or  two  just  Hke  a  kestrel; 
then,  as  a  stoat  darted  out  of  the  long  grass,  she 
glided  away  to  some  railings.  This  is  the  only 
time  I  have  seen  a  sparrow  hawk  attempt  to 
hover,  and  it  was,  in  this  one  instance,  brought 
about  by  the  bird's  sudden  realization  of  the  nature 
of  the  creature  she  had  been  about  to  attack.  She 
evidently  thought  discretion  the  better  part  of 
valour,  and  she  was  undoubtedly  right,  for  a  hawk 
of  this  size  would  be  no  match  for  such  a  fierce 
little  animal.  One  result  of  her  effort  was  to 
restore  her  to  good  temper,  and  she  then  came 
to  me  as  obediently  as  if  she  had  never  had  the 
sulks. 

Only  those  who  have  attempted  to  tame  and 
train  a  sparrow  hawk  can  realize  what  a  nervous 
highly  strung  bird  it  is.  In  olden  times,  in  the 
palmy  days  of  falconry,  every  boy  of  good  birth  had 
to  learn  the  art  of  training  a  hawk  by  "making" 
a  sparrow  hawk,  or  "  spar-hawk  "  as  it  was  then 
called.  The  modern  name  is  a  corruption  of 
the  old  one,  which  meant  the  small  or  lesser  hawk ; 
in  the  same  sense  we  still  use  the  word  "  spare  " 
to  indicate  lack  of  quantity  or  quality.  This 
name  was  probably  given  because  the  spar-hawk 
was  so  much  smaller  than  the  gos-hawk,  which  was 
the  only  other  short-winged  hawk  that  was  used 
in    falconry.     Somehow    or    other    this    very    apt 


THE    SPARROW   HAWK  Ul 

name  got  converted  into  "  sparrow  "  hawk,  which 
is  not  nearly  so  suitable,  for  it  is  but  seldom  the 
owner  kills  sparrows,  keeping,  as  a  rule,  away 
from  the  houses  and  buildings  where  sparrows  are 
most  numerous.  This  hawk  is  one  of  the  wildest  of 
wild  creatures.  "  As  wild  as  a  hawk  "  has  passed 
into  a  proverb,  and  when  that  saying  was  framed 
there  can  be  no  question  that  it  was  the  sparrow 
hawk  that  was  meant,  for  the  spar-hawk  has 
always  been  known  to  falconers  as  the  most 
difficult  of  hawks  to  "  man  "  and  "  make  " — i.e. 
to  tame  and  train.  This  is  why  it  was  regarded 
as  the  young  man's  hawk.  In  manning  and 
making  one  of  these  little  hawks  the  young 
falconer  would  have  to  exercise  every  art  of  what 
in  those  days  was  quite  a  science,  and  when,  with 
infinite  patience  and  skill,  he  had  brought  this 
wild  termagant  to  tameness  and  docility,  he  was 
considered  to  be  something  of  a  falconer,  and  to 
be  worthy  to  handle  the  noble  peregrine  or  the 
handsome  gos. 

To  one  who  only  knows  the  sparrow  hawk  as  a 
darting  grey-brown  shape  slipping  between  the 
great  trees  of  our  woodlands,  it  will  seem  almost 
incredible  that  such  a  bird  can  be  tamed  and 
trained  until  she  will  come  willingly  from  a  long 
distance  to  her  owner's  hand  in  response  to  his 
call  or  whistle.  Yet  not  only  was  this  commonly 
done  in  the  old  days  when  every  one  practised 
hawking,  but  is  still  sometimes  accomphshed  at 
the  present  day.  Though  at  no  time  has  the  spar- 
hawk  been  a  favourite,  such  an  amount  of  time 


142  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

and  trouble  being  required  to  get  her  fit  to  fly; 
and,  after  all,  she  is  not  a  big  hawk,  and  can  only 
by  flown  at  comparatively  small  quarry,  black- 
birds giving  the  best  sport.  Besides,  as  already 
indicated,  she  is  the  most  uncertain  and  capricious 
of  creatures,  being  liable  to  fits  of  sulks  and  bad 
temper  for  the  very  slightest  of  reasons,  or  for 
no  reason  at  all  as  far  as  we  can  understand. 

Perhaps  it  was  for  this  reason  that  when  assigning 
to  different  persons  the  hawks  considered  most 
suitable  for  their  station  in  life,  the  priest  was 
allotted  the  sparrow  hawk,  possibly  because  patience 
being  a  priestly  virtue  he  would  have  need  to 
exercise  it !  The  peregrine  was  the  nobleman's 
hawk,  the  rare  and  beautiful  ger-falcon  was  reserved 
for  royalty,  while  the  dainty  merlin  was  the  lady's 
hawk,  but  the  poor  man  was  only  allowed  the  useless 
kestrel. 

The  principle  involved  in  training  the  sparrow 
hawk,  or  any  other  hawk,  is  simple  enough :  it  is 
to  keep  her  always  with  people,  and  to  carry  her 
about  on  the  gloved  hand  until  she  pays  no  attention 
to  men,  women,  children,  and  dogs.  Round  her 
legs  are  fastened  two  small  leather  straps  known  as 
jesses,  which  are  attached  in  a  peculiar  way  that 
has  been  handed  down  from  falconer  to  falconer 
through  hundreds  of  years.  A  metal  swivel  is 
passed  through  the  ends  of  these,  and  through  the 
swivel  a  leash,  which  latter  the  falconer  twists 
round  his  hand  lest  by  any  accident  he  should  let 
it  go.  Thus  held,  the  hawk  cannot  get  away,  which 
she  at  first  tries  hard  to  do,  flapping  off  the  fist 


THE    SPARROW    HAWK  143 

time  after  time,  "  bateing,"  as  it  is  called,  at  every 
one  who  comes  near.  But  in  time  she  gets  tired 
of  bateing  and  learns  that  no  harm  is  intended 
her.  Meanwhile  she  is  offered  nice  bits  of  meat, 
the  falconer  striving  to  make  her  understand  that 
he  is  a  friend,  and  that  it  is  he  who  provides  her 
with  food.  Soon  she  begins  to  eat  on  the  hand, 
gradually  her  confidence  is  won,  and  she  views 
mankind  with  less  and  less  distrust  The  next 
step  in  her  education  is  to  encourage  her  to  jump 
on  to  the  fist  for  rewards  of  meat.  At  first  she 
will  only  step  up,  but  she  soon  learns  to  jump  a 
foot  or  two,  then  to  fly  several  yards,  and  at  last 
there  comes  a  day  when  she  can  be  trusted  free, 
flying  back  to  her  trainer's  fist  from  a  considerable 
distance,  when  of  course  she  is  well  rewarded 

By  the  way,  the  sparrow  hawk  is  what  was  called 
in  the  old  times  a  hawk  of  the  fist,  being  taught 
to  come  back  to  the  hand,  and  being  flown  straight 
from  it  at  the  quarry ;  unlike  the  long-winged 
hawks  which  are  "  made  to  the  lure,"  i.e.  taught 
to  come  to  a  lure  dragged  on  the  ground.  Another 
difference  in  the  training  is  that  the  latter  are 
kept  hooded  a  considerable  part  of  their  time,  so 
that  they  may  not  be  frightened  and  upset  by 
passing  things,  but  this  is  not  customary  with  the 
short-winged  hawks,  which  are  generally  carried 
bare-headed.  But  even  with  the  sparrow  hawk 
both  hood  and  lure  have  their  uses,  especially 
the  latter. 

Of  course  the  whole  of  a  hawk's  training  turns 
on   the   matter   of   food.     With   a   full   crop   she 


144  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

does  not  care  an  atom  for  the  falconer,  but  when 
hungry  and  "  sharp-set  "   she  is  a  different  bird, 
returning  obediently  to  his  whistle  for  the  meat 
she    has    learnt    he    will    provide.     Yet    even    the 
most    perfectly    "  manned "    and   trained   sparrow 
hawk  is  a  bundle  of  nerves,  and,  as  already  remarked, 
liable  to  be  upset  by  the  slightest  thing,  bateing 
frantically  at  the  sight  of  a  strange  dog,  or  taking 
stand  in  a  tree  and  sulking  there  for  an  hour  or 
more.     But  we  will  imagine   that  our  spar-hawk 
is  in  a   very  good-temper,   and    that    she    is   sit- 
ting keen  and  alert  on  the  fist  ready  for  a  flight. 
Her  leash  and  swivel  have  been  taken  off,  and  she 
is  merely  held  by  the  short  leather  straps  or  jesses. 
In  addition  she  carries  a  little  bell  tied  to  her  leg, 
the  purpose  of  which  will  be  apparent  presently. 
A  friend,  who  has  consented  to  act  as  beater,  goes  to 
the  farther  side  of  some  thorn  bushes  that  stand 
isolated  in  the  midst  of  the  meadow.     If  there  is 
a  blackbird  in  them,  it  will  have  to  face  the  open, 
for  there  is  no  other  shelter  within  three  hundred 
yards.     The    hawk    understands    the    business    as 
well  as  we  do;    indeed,  she  is  so  keen  that  when 
the  beater  thumps  the  bushes  and  a  bramble  stem 
shakes  she   thinks  it  is   a  bird  coming   out,   and 
casts  herself  from  the  hand,  so  that  when  a  moment 
later  one  does  come  out  she  is  hardly  ready.     By 
bateing  at  the  quivering  bramble  she  has  spoilt 
her  start.     Awa}^  goes  the  blackbird,  after  it  darts 
the  hawk,  flying  across  the  meadow  like  an  arrow 
shot  from  a  bow,  but  the  bad  start  has  spoilt  the 
flight,  and  with  a  shriek  that  ends  in  a  chuckle 


THE    SPARROW    HAWK. 

Note  the  shoil  wings,  which  should  be  compared  with 
those  of  the  Kestrel. 


THE    SPARROW    HAWK  145 

of  triumph  the  blackbird  hurls  itself  into  the 
fence,  having  won  the  race  by  a  good  three  yards. 
Into  the  hedge  behind  it  dives  the  plucky  spar- 
hawk,  and  when,  breathless  with  running,  we 
arrive  at  the  spot,  the  tinkle  of  the  hawk's  bell 
tells  where  she  is.  In  her  eagerness  she  has  driven 
right  into  the  middle  of  the  fence.  After  some 
trouble  she  is  got  out,  not  a  feather  the  worse 
for  her  experience,  and  then  we  try  to  beat  the 
blackbird  out,  but  he  lies  low  among  the  rubbish 
in  the  hedge-bottom,  being  a  wary  old  cock  that 
knows  when  he  is  safe.  In  vain  do  we  thump  and 
poke,  he  is  not  to  be  dislodged ;  indeed,  he  has 
vanished  completely,  and  at  last  we  have  to  give 
it  up.  A  move  is  then  made  for  a  field  of  mangolds, 
among  which  there  are  often  plenty  of  birds. 
We  walk  slowly  across  them,  one  or  two  thrushes 
getting  up  a  little  way  off,  but  it  is  useless  to  slip 
the  hawk  at  them,  as  she  would  not  have  a  reason- 
able chance.  They  have  good  starts,  too  good 
considering  what  an  excellent  flier  the  thrush 
is.  Suddenly  a  blackbird  gets  up  at  my  very  feet, 
making  off  with  a  loud  chuckle  for  the  hedgerow. 
In  the  same  instant  the  hawk  is  after  him,  but 
the  distance  is  short — can  she  overtake  him  ? 
With  a  piercing  shriek  the  blackbird  drops  into 
the  fence,  but  the  hawk  was  upon  him,  and  it  was 
as  a  combined  streak  of  black  and  brown  that 
they  disappeared  into  the  undergrowth.  Racing 
and  tumbling  over  the  roots,  we  run  for  the  hedge, 
to  be  greeted  on  arrival  by  the  ringing  of  the 
hawk's  bell  in  the  ditch.     There  she  is,   holding 

10 


146  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

the  blackbird  tight,  an  orange-billed  old  cock, 
from  whose  body  she  has  already  squeezed  the 
breath,  but  not  quite  satisfied  she  gives  another 
convulsive  grip,  which  drives  her  needlelike 
talons  yet  farther  into  him.  Very  quietly  and 
gently  we  approach,  kneel  down,  and  quietly 
offering  the  hand,  pick  her  up,  letting  her  feather 
and  eat  the  quarry  on  the  fist,  for  she  deserves  to 
be  rewarded,  having  flown  with  real  determination. 

Tame  and  confiding  as  a  hawk  like  this  will 
become,  yet  if  she  be  left  alone  for  only  a  few 
days  without  society  she  will  revert  to  all  her 
original  wildness.  To  keep  her  good-humoured 
and  in  flying  order  she  must  almost  live  on  her 
owner's  hand ;  if  not,  her  wild  instincts  will  quickly 
reassert  themselves.  Curiously  enough,  it  is  easier 
to  tame  and  train  an  old  wild-caught  hawk  than 
a  young  one  taken  from  the  nest.  An  eyass, 
to  use  the  old  term  for  a  young  hawk,  has  "  manifold 
faults  and  follies." 

Throughout  these  remarks  on  trained  sparrow 
hawks  the  reader  will  have  noticed  that  it  has  been 
the  female  which  has  been  referred  to  ;  this  was 
because  the  hen,  as  is  usual  with  birds  of  prey, 
is  so  much  the  bigger  and  finer  bird.  She  is 
almost  twice  the  size  of  her  mate,  who,  when 
compared  with  his  large  spouse,  seems  but  an 
insignificant  httle  fellow  ;  however  he  is  a  hand- 
some hawk  in  reality,  being  extremely  smart  in 
his  plumage  of  brown  tinted  with  grey.  Falconers 
used  to  call  him  the  "  musket,"  and  held  him  in 
but  little  esteem,  for  he  could  not  attack  such  big 


THE    SPARROW    HAWK  147 

birds  as  the  female,  not  having  the  size  or  weight 
to  hold  a  partridge,  a  feat  the  hen  is  quite  capable 
of  if  she  chooses  to  exert  herself,  but  when  free  to 
select  her  own  quarry  it  is  seldom  she  flies  at 
anything  so  big.  The  fact  of  the  matter  is  that 
hawks  are  lazy  creatures;  they  merely  kill  what 
they  want  to  cat,  and  no  more  than  that.  They 
seldom  if  ever  hunt  for  sport,  and  generally  take 
the  easiest  quarry  that  they  come  across,  avoiding 
big  strong  birds  unless  circumstances  are  especially 
in  their  favour.  I  have  seen  a  fine  large  female 
sparrow  hawk  go  at  a  woodpigeon  and  take  it,  but 
this  was  in  mid-winter,  when  there  were  not  many 
small  birds  about,  and  she  was  evidently  "  sharp- 
set  "  and  ready  to  attack  anything.  Under  ordinary 
circumstances  blackbirds  are  a  favourite  quarry, 
thrushes  being  far  less  frequently  included  in  the 
menu,  for  the  reason  that  the  latter  take  a  good 
deal  more  catching.  I  have  known  a  spar-hawk 
that  lived  almost  entirely  on  blackbirds.  She 
haunted  a  certain  dingle,  and  in  the  woodland 
rides  I  was  continually  finding  those  circles  of 
feathers  which  marked  where  she  had  feasted.  In 
her  case  the  feathers  were  invariably  black  ones. 
A  sparrow  hawk's  meal  is  never  consumed  in 
haste  ;  indeed,  it  is  a  matter  of  considerable  ceremony, 
being  a  leisurely  affair  of  many  rites.  First  a  good 
dining  place  has  to  be  found,  and  if  the  ground 
does  not  offer  a  spot  free  of  vegetation  the  victim 
will  probably  be  carried  to  a  flat-topped  gate- 
post. Having  found  a  place  to  her  satisfaction, 
the   hawk   grasps   the  bird  firmly  with   her  feet, 


148  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

holding  it  head  first  and  never  the  reverse,  and 
then  begins  to  pluck  it.  With  delicate  precision 
and  a  surprising  amount  of  strength  she  pulls 
out,  one  at  a  time,  the  firmly  rooted  wing-feathers. 
The  tail  she  usually  leaves  until  later  on,  taking 
next  the  soft  body-feathers,  which  come  away 
in  beakfuls,  until  she  is  surrounded  by  a  ring  of 
them.  At  last  the  corpse  is  stripped,  even  the 
stout  tail-feathers  having  been  pulled  out,  and  then 
she  begins  business  in  earnest,  tearing  the  head 
from  the  body — that  is,  if  she  did  not  commence 
by  doing  so,  because  she  is  often  in  such  a  hurry 
for  this  dehcacy  that  she  does  not  wait  to  get 
all  the  plucking  done  before  eating  it.  Holding 
the  head  in  one  foot,  she  breaks  open  the  skull 
so  as  to  get  at  the  brains,  which  latter  are  the 
greatest  treat.  Having  extracted  all  of  them  she 
can,  and  picked  as  much  off  the  head  as  possible, 
and  even  eaten  the  eyes,  she  throws  the  beak  away 
with  a  quick  jerk.  She  then  turns  back  to  the 
body,  picking  the  meat  from  the  breast,  legs,  and 
back,  taking  care  not  to  miss  the  smallest  atom 
of  meat  or  fat,  especially  the  latter,  of  which  she  is 
very  fond,  but  rejecting  with  disgust  the  greater 
part  of  the  entrails.  At  last  all  the  eatable  portions 
are  finished,  and  having  looked  round  to  see 
nothing  has  been  missed,  she  proceeds  to  clean  her 
feet  and  beak.  She  picks  the  bits  of  flesh  and 
feather  from  her  talons,  then  flies  up  to  the  branch 
of  a  tree,  whereon  she  rubs  her  beak  most  vigorously 
so  as  to  free  it  from  all  chnging  remnants.  She 
next  puffs  up  her  feathers  and  gives  them  a  good 


THE    SPARROW    HAWK  149 

shaking,  after  which  she  retires  to  some  sheltered 
spot,  where,  with  one  foot  drawn  up  under  her 
warm  breast-feathers  and  her  plumage  fluffed 
out,  she  may  rest  and  digest  the  meal  in  peace. 
Here  she  may  stay  for  hours;  for  though  the 
sparrow  hawk  can  be  wonderfully  energetic,  it 
is  really  a  lazy  bird,  and  when  full  fed  and  con- 
tented it  will  sit  for  hours  motionless  on  some 
branch,  apparently  obhvious  to  what  happens 
around  it,  yet  those  keen  yellow  eyes  really  take 
in  all  that  passes  beneath,  and  if  any  person 
comes  within  sight  the  hawk  is  gone  like  a  flash. 

It  is  very  rarely  one  succeeds  in  surprising  a 
sparrow  hawk,  for  with  those  wonderful  eyes  it 
misses  httle  that  goes  on  ;  however,  I  once  came 
upon  a  male  engaged  in  bathing  in  a  tiny  woodland 
stream.  The  gurgling  of  the  streamlet  prevented 
him  hearing  me  coming,  and  the  hawk  was  so 
intent  on  splashing  the  water  over  himself,  that  he 
did  not  see  me  until  I  was  comparatively  close. 
When  he  became  aware  that  he  was  being  watched 
he  rose  with  a  startled  splash  and  flew  heavily 
off,  flying  very  awkwardly,  being  handicapped  by 
the  wet  state  of  his  feathers,  from  which  the  water 
dripped  as  he  went,  falling  like  sparkhng  diamonds 
on  the  brookside  herbage. 

Sparrow  hawks  are  exceedingly  fond  of  bathing, 
washing  regularly,  when  they  soak  their  feathers 
through  and  through,  after  which  they  retire  to 
some  warm  and  sunny  corner,  where,  with  spread 
wings,  and  tail  extended  fan-wise,  they  dry  the 
sodden  plumage.     A  spar-hawk's  toilet  is  a  lengthy 


150  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

affair.  The  bird  preens  with  the  greatest  of  care, 
drawing  feather  after  feather  through  its  beak, 
and  dressing  all  until  they  are  in  perfect  order. 
It  is  no  wonder,  considering  the  time  and  attention 
it  gives  to  its  plumage,  that  it  is  always  one  of  the 
smartest  of  birds. 

This  hawk's  liking  for  a  warm  and  sheltered 
spot  has  already  been  alluded  to,  which  preference 
influences  its  choice  of  a  nesting  site.  Most  of 
the  nests  I  have  met  with  have  been  situated  in 
some  tall  tree  in  a  well-wooded  dingle  where  the 
winds  do  not  readily  penetrate.  Here,  at  a  con- 
siderable height  from  the  ground,  where  a  bough 
or  two  branch  out  from  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  a 
platform  of  small  sticks  and  twigs  is  made  during 
April.  But  the  nesting  site  was  decided  on  much 
earlier  than  this,  mating  taking  place  at  the  end 
of  February,  when  the  pair  choose  their  territory, 
after  which,  on  fine  mornings,  one  can  see  them 
sailing  backwards  and  forwards  over  their  own 
particular  wood.  As  soon  as  nest  building  has 
begun  the  hen  gives  up  this  amusement,  but  the 
cock  may  still  indulge  in  it.  In  my  experience 
it  is  usual  for  an  entirely  new  nest  to  be  made, 
but  it  is  asserted  by  many  writers  that  the  sparrow 
hawk  prefers  to  do  up  a  previous  season's  nest. 
However,  I  have  only  met  with  two  instances;  in 
the  one  case  the  last  year's  nest  was  used  again, 
and  in  the  second  a  six-year-old  nest  that  had 
nearly  fallen  to  pieces  was  repaired  late  in  the 
season  and  utilized  for  a  small  clutch  of  three 
eggs.      In     the     latter      case      there     was     little 


THE    SPARROW   HAWK  151 

doubt  that  the  hawk  had  been  robbed  of  her 
first  nest  with  part  of  the  clutch,  so  hurriedly 
repaired  this  old  nest  and  laid  the  rest  of  her 
eggs  in  it. 

By  the  way,  it  is  also  stated  that  the  sparrow 
hawk  does  not  breed  until  two  years  old,  but  it  is 
a  point  that  is  difficult  to  prove.  I  can  only  say 
that  I  turned  a  trained  female  loose  in  a  certain 
wood  and  that  a  hawk,  which  appeared  to  be  the 
same,  remained  in  it,  mated,  and  made  a  nest  the 
following  spring,  when,  if  it  was  my  bird,  she  would 
be  only  twelve  months  old.  One  thing  that  made 
me  believe  it  was  my  hawk  was  that  she  killed  only 
blackbirds,  which  was  the  quarry  that  mine  had 
been  flown  at. 

The  eggs  are  laid  about  the  middle  of  May, 
and  number  from  five  to  seven,  six  being  the 
usual  clutch.  They  are  very  handsome,  being 
white,  heavily  blotched  with  brown.  They 
vary  somewhat,  and  often  the  last  one  will  not 
be  so  well  marked  as  the  earlier  laid  eggs.  The 
old  bird  begins  to  sit  before  the  last  of  the  clutch 
are  laid,  when  she  betrays  her  presence  in  a  peculiar 
way.  As  soon  as  incubation  has  begun  she  sheds 
the  soft  down  from  beneath  her  feathers,  many 
bits  of  which  are  sure  to  decorate  not  only  the 
nest,  but  also  the  branches  near  at  hand,  so  even 
from  the  ground  one  can  tell  when  she  has  begun 
to  sit.  Though  the  cock  takes  no  part  in  the 
sitting,  he  is  a  devoted  mate,  bringing  his  spouse 
food,  and  generally  dancing  attendance  on  her, 
so  that  she  has  no  need  to  hunt  for  herself ;  indeed, 


152  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

she  does  but  little  killing  until  the  young  are  a 
fair  size.  One  thing  she  always  does  is  to  break 
up  all  the  carcasses,  and  portion  them  out,  a  duty 
never  undertaken  by  the  male  ;  indeed,  should 
any  accident  befall  the  hen  while  the  nestlings 
are  too  young  to  tear  up  their  own  food  they  are 
almost  certain  to  starve.  They  will  die  from 
want  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  as  their  father,  though 
continuing  to  bring  all  the  birds  required,  will 
merely  deposit  them  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and 
never  dream  of  tearing  them  to  pieces.^ 

The  young  when  first  hatched  are  quaint  little 
atoms  clad  in  white  down,  and  often  differ  con- 
siderably in  size,  owing  not  only  to  the  differences 
between  the  sexes,  but  to  some  being  older  than 
the  others.  The  fact  of  the  old  bird  beginning 
to  sit  before  her  clutch  is  complete,  makes  a  con- 
siderable difference  between  the  hatching  of  the 
first  and  last  eggs,  especially  as  they  are  usually 
laid  at  intervals  of  every  other  day. 

The  old  hawk  is  a  most  devoted  mother,  brood- 
ing and  tending  the  young  with  the  greatest 
care.  At  first  she  cleans  the  nest,  but  as  the 
nestlings  get  stronger  they  void  their  excrement 
over  the  side  of  the  platform,  by  which  means 
the  covert  undergrowth  gets  plentifully  splashed 
with  "  whitewash "  for  some  distance  around 
the  nest.  This  often  betrays  the  family  to  the 
passing  keeper,  who  deals  with  the  situation  by 
putting  a  charge  of  shot  through  the  bottom  of 
the  nest ! 

>  J.  H.  Owen,  in  British  Birds,  vol.  x,  p.  56. 


THE    SPARROW    HAWK  153 

It  must  be  admitted  that  from  the  man's  point 
of  view  there  is  justification  for  his  action,  as  his 
Hving  depends  on  rearing  pheasants,  and  when 
a  sparrow  hawk,  heavily  burdened  with  family 
cares,  comes  across  pheasant  chicks  in  a  rearing 
field,  it  will  not  only  dash  in  and  carry  off  one 
or  two,  but  will  return  day  after  day.  In  the 
same  way  it  will  sometimes  raid  a  brood  of  chickens 
in  the  farmyard.  Under  such  circumstances  the 
hawk  will  show  a  degree  of  boldness  completely 
at  variance  with  its  character  on  other  occasions, 
swooping  in  on  the  chicken  while  people  are 
standing  by,  and  appearing  indifferent  to  their 
presence. 

There  are  times  when  the  sparrow  hawk  is  as 
recklessly  bold  as  it  is  usually  timid  and  retiring. 
When  in  pursuit  of  a  bird  it  will  be  deaf  and  bhnd 
to  everything  but  the  quarry  before  it,  and  there 
have  been  many  cases  of  a  hawk  following  its 
prey  into  outbuildings  and  even  into  houses  ; 
nor  is  it  by  any  means  uncommon  for  the  sparrow 
hawk  to  attack  caged  birds,  such  as  canaries  and 
goldfinches,  when  they  are  put  out  of  doors, 
say  on  a  cottage  wall. 

Undoubtedly  this  hawk  has  wonderful  eyesight, 
yet  sometimes  when  intent  on  its  business  it  does 
not  notice  the  most  obvious  things.  For  in- 
stance, my  brother  was  standing  in  a  gateway, 
when  he  saw  a  sparrow  hawk  flying  down  the 
hedgeside  towards  him,  when  he  instinctively 
and  without  thinking  threw  up  his  hand  as  if 
to   catch   a   ball,    and   caught   the   bird   instead  | 


154  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

He  was  too  startled  to  hold  it,  and  it  dashed  off 
again  in  a  great  flurry  and  hurry.  He  said  he 
did  not  know  which  was  the  more  astonished, 
he  or  the  bird  ! 

To  go  back  to  the  young  birds  in  the  nest, 
they  grow  rapidly,  and  are  soon  able  to  sit 
up,  but  it  is  some  time  before  they  can  balance 
on  their  long  thin  legs.  To  begin  with  their 
eyes  are  a  watery  grey-green,  only  becoming 
yellow  when  they  are  full  fledged.  The  colour 
of  the  irides  deepens  with  age,  becoming  a 
beautiful  orange  in  old  hawks.  As  their  strength 
develops  the  eyasses  begin  to  tear  up  food  for 
themselves,  and  about  the  same  time  brown 
feathers  begin  to  peep  through  the  white  down, 
when  the  family  will  vary  much  in  appearance 
the  eldest  female  being  a  week  or  more  ahead 
of  the  youngest  male.  The  latter  is  often  much 
behind  the  others,  but  I  have  never  known  him 
get  "  lost,"  as  so  often  happens  to  the  weakly 
member  of  an  owl  family.  In  the  latter  case 
I  fear  the  word  "  lost  "  covers  an  ugly  murder 
by  the  stronger  members  of  the  party. 

Young  sparrow  hawks  grow  at  a  great  pace, 
but  it  is  about  a  month  before  they  are  able 
to  leave  the  nest  and  venture  out  upon  the 
surrounding  branches;  even  then  they  do  not 
leave  the  nest  for  good,  still  using  it  as  head- 
quarters and  as  a  dining-table.  It  is  to  the 
old  platform  that  their  hard-working  little 
father  brings  his  contributions,  and  to  which 
their  mother  also  fetches   food,   caUing  them   to 


YOUNG    SPARROW    HAWK    AT    THE    AGE    WHEN    THEV    LEAVE    THE 
NEST    TO    PERCH    OX    THE    BRANCHES    NEAR    IT. 


THE    SPARROW    HAWK  155 

the  feast  with  a  pecuhar  sharp  cry.  Though 
sparrow  hawks  have  various  calls,  including  a 
loud  scream  and  a  chattering  cry,  they  are  not 
really  noisy  birds,  and  one  does  not  hear  them 
nearly  so  often  as  the  kestrel,  which  is  much 
more  talkative.  But,  while  the  young  are  still 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  nest,  they  do  scream 
to  some  extent,  probably  to  let  their  parents 
know  where  they  are,  which  often  betrays  them 
to  their  enemy  with  the  gun. 

As  they  get  stronger  on  the  wing  they  also 
get  more  independent;  the  impulse  to  chase 
small  birds  develops,  at  first  it  is  merely  play, 
but  there  comes  a  day  when  they  kill  for  them- 
selves, after  which  they  cease  to  resort  to  the 
old  nest.  They  are  now  independent  of  their 
parents,  yet  for  a  little  while  they  remain  in 
their  company  about  the  home  wood,  until  the 
autumn  migration  fever  seizes  them,  as  it  does 
so  many  other  birds,  when  they  join  the  hosts 
that  are  moving  South  and  cross  to  the  Continent 
for  the  winter.  The  old  birds,  I  believe,  do  not 
go  with  them,  but  stop  at  home  ;  at  any  rate 
one  sees  sparrow  hawks  about  the  same  haunts 
all  winter  which  do  not  look  like  birds  of  the 
year.  In  the  spring  the  young  birds  return, 
and  such  is  the  havoc  wrought  by  the  keeper's 
gun  that  they  can  usually  find  plenty  of  un- 
occupied territory  in  which  to  settle  down. 

Though  it  cannot  be  gainsaid  that  the  sparrow 
hawk  kills  great  numbers  of  birds,  including 
young  game-birds,   yet   the  wholesale   destruction 


156  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

of  this  hawk  and  other  birds  of  prey  by  game 
preservers  is,  in  my  opinion,  a  mistake,  as  these 
species  have  their  place  in  the  economy  of 
Nature,  helping  to  keep  down  the  numbers  of 
the  smaller  birds,  such  as  the  blackbird,  and 
preventing  their  undue  increase,  which,  as  fruit 
growers  are  only  too  well  aware,  is  a  serious 
matter  in  certain  districts. 

{The  Sparrow  Hawk,  Accipiter  nisus,  Linn.,  is 
generally  distributed  throughout  Europe,  and  shows 
little  variation  on  the  Continent  or  in  this  country, 
so  there  is  no  need  to  mention  sub-species.) 


CHAPTER    VIII 
THE    KESTREL 

WE  must  now  turn  to  that  second  wood- 
land hawk  to  which  reference  was  made 
in  the  previous  chapter,  namely  the 
kestrel.  It  is  a  dainty  bird,  with  the  kittenish  ex- 
pression, large  dark  eyes,  and  long  wings  of  the  true 
falcons;  indeed,  it  is  a  miniature  falcon,  though 
without  the  dash  and  courage  that  distinguishes 
its  noble  relatives.  As  has  already  been  pointed 
out,  many  people,  who  know  little  of  hawks,  con- 
fuse it  with  the  sparrow  hawk,  though  there  is 
no  reason  why  they  should,  for  the  two  birds 
are  not  in  the  least  alike,  belonging  as  they  do 
to  two  distinct  types,  the  sparrow  hawk  being 
a  short-winged  hawk,  whereas  the  kestrel  is  a 
long-winged  one.  Even  in  flight  they  are  quite 
dissimilar.  The  sparrow  hawk  glides  by  close  to 
the  ground,  the  kestrel  hovers  high  over  woodland 
and  meadow. 

If  you  see  a  dark  speck  in  the  sky,  which 
closer  attention  shows  to  be  a  bird  poised  against 
the  wind,  you  may  be  sure  it  is  a  kestrel,  for 
no   other   small  hawk   has   discovered   the   art   of 

157 


158  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

maintaining  the  same  position  in  the  air  for  many 
minutes  at  a  time.  With  depressed  and  out- 
spread tail,  with  vibrating  wings,  it  hovers  there, 
not  moving  an  inch  either  backwards  or  forwards, 
and  reminding  one  of  a  child's  kite  fluttering  on 
the  breeze.  Suddenly,  as  if  the  kite's  string 
had  been  relaxed,  it  drifts  sideways,  gliding  off  a 
few  yards,  then  stops,  and  again  hovers  on  out- 
stretched wings.  Time  after  time  will  this  be 
repeated,  the  kestrel  scanning  each  inch  of  the 
ground  below,  and  watching  for  any  sign  of  life, 
for  any  movement  in  tussocks  and  grass  tufts 
that  may  betray  the  whereabouts  of  a  mouse ; 
for,  though  so  far  above,  its  wonderful  eyes  will 
instantly  detect  anything  that  stirs,  especially 
a  meadow  vole  running  along  one  of  its  tunnels 
between  the  grass  stems,  when  woe  to  that  mouse 
which  has  been  so  incautious  as  to  show  itself  ! 
No  kite  of  which  the  string  has  been  cut  would 
descend  so  swiftly  to  earth,  for  the  kestrel  closes 
its  wings  and  drops  like  a  stone,  falling  on  the 
unsuspecting  vole  like,  literally,  a  "  bolt  from 
the  blue."  The  mouse  is  gripped  and  carried 
away  before  it  has  time  to  realize  what  has 
happened  ;  before  it  was  even  aware  that  danger 
was  at  hand. 

Here  we  find  yet  another  difference  between 
our  two  common  hawks,  for  the  kestrel  is  a  great 
mouse-hunter,  whereas  the  sparrow  hawk  never 
touches  fur,  but  prefers  feathers.  The  number 
of  voles  and  mice  that  kestrels  destroy  in  this 
country  in  the  course  of  a  year  must  be  simply 


THE    KESTREL  159 

astonishing,  for  nearly  every  wood  is  tenanted 
by  a  pair  or  more  of  these  hawks,  and  each  bird 
kills  three  or  four  mice  per  day,  which  number 
is  much  increased  when  there  are  young  ones  to 
be  fed,  so  that  in  the  course  of  twelve  months 
its  bag  becomes  a  big  one.  If  the  average  was 
as  low  as  two  mice  per  day — and  I  am  sure  it  would 
be  more — each  kestrel  would  account  for  seven 
hundred  and  thirty  mice  per  year,  while  if  it 
were  three  each  day  we  should  have  to  place 
considerably  over  a  thousand  per  annum  to 
every  kestrel's  credit.  Even  this  latter  figure 
is  by  no  means  a  generous  one,  and  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if,  in  fact,  it  was  not  greatly 
exceeded. 

Though  the  kestrel  loves  the  shelter  of  the 
trees,  and  you  seldom  come  across  a  wood  that 
is  not  the  home  of  one  or  more  pairs,  yet  this 
hawk  does  not  despise  the  open  country,  ranging 
out  over  the  moors  and  the  desolate  hill-sides, 
where,  no  other  site  being  available,  it  will  nest 
on  a  ledge  in  the  face  of  a  crag.  It  is,  in  fact, 
an  adaptable  bird,  and  when  circumstances 
compel,  i.e.  when  no  better  place  can  be  found, 
it  will  even  lay  its  eggs  upon  the  ground ;  for 
instance,  in  the  Outer  Hebrides,  where  there  are 
no  trees,  it  resorts  to  the  httle  islands  in  the 
lochs  and  makes  its  nest  among  the  heather. 

It  is  no  doubt  this  adaptabihty  which  helps 
the  kestrel  to  be  so  common,  for  it  is  found 
throughout  the  country,  but  it  is  in  wooded 
districts   that   it   is   most   plentiful   and   where   it 


160  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

appears  most  at  home.  As  said  before,  nearly 
every  covert  shelters  a  pair  or  more,  whose  lively 
chatter  we  may  hear  in  the  early  spring,  and 
again  when  the  young  ones  are  on  the  wing. 

Having  got  thus  far  in  my  account  of  the  kestrel, 
some  description  is  necessary  of  its  appearance. 
I  have  said  it  is  dark-eyed,  and  in  each  sex 
there  is  a  dark  mark  down  the  side  of  the 
face.  In  the  old  male  the  upper  parts  are  a 
deep  chestnut  spotted  and  barred  with  black, 
by  contrast  with  which  his  grey  head  and  tail 
appear  quite  blue.  His  tail  has  a  broad  band 
of  black  at  the  extremity,  and  is  tipped  with 
white.  His  under-parts  are  creamy  white  varying 
to  buff,  the  breast  being  streaked  with  brown- 
black,  so  that  he  is  a  beautiful,  not  to  say  very 
showy,  little  hawk,  but  of  course,  as  is  usual  with 
birds  of  prey,  he  is  much  inferior  in  point  of  size 
to  his  mate,  being  quite  a  third  less  in  every 
respect.  Yet  what  she  gains  in  size  she  loses  in 
the  matter  of  gay  plumage,  being  much  more 
soberly  clad.  She  has  not  the  grey  head  and 
tail,  the  latter  in  her  case  being  reddish,  though 
with  a  tinge  of  grey  towards  the  end,  and  it  is 
barred  with  black  throughout  its  length,  but 
in  general  respects  her  markings  are  like  his. 
The  young  up  to  their  first  moult  resemble  the 
hen,  the  young  cocks  only  acquiring  the  grey 
head  and  blue-grey  tail  in  their  second  summer. 

The  male  bird  is  certainly  a  gay  little  gentle- 
man, and  when  he  bows  and  scrapes  in  the  antics 
of    courtship    is    particularly    taking.     He    begins 


THE    KESTREL.       JIM    ON    THE    FIST. 

Note  the  length  of  his  wings,  which  should  be  com- 
pared with  those  of  the  Sparrow  Hawk,  as  shown  in 
the  photograph  facing  p.  144. 


THE   KESTREL  161 

to  look  for  a  mate  early  in  the  year,  when  we 
may  hear  the  lively  chatter  of  the  suitors,  as 
they  pay  court  to  the  ladies,  and  conduct  their 
love  affairs  among  the  trees.  As  a  rule  pairing 
takes  place  in  the  neighbourhood  where  they 
mean  to  settle,  when  the  happy  couple  drive  off 
all  other  kestrels  and  keep  their  territory  to 
themselves.  During  March,  or  at  the  beginning 
of  April,  the  question  of  a  nest  crops  up  for 
consideration,  but  the  kestrel  is  a  lazy  bird,  and 
prefers  to  make  use  of  a  ready-made  one  to 
building  for  itself.  An  old  sparrow  hawk's  nest, 
a  fiattened-out  squirrel's  drey,  or  a  disused  crow's 
nest  meet  its  requirements  to  a  nicety.  For 
situation  it  prefers  a  tall  spruce,  by  reason  of  its 
heavy  evergreen  foliage  giving  more  shade  and 
shelter  than  anything  else.  If  you  want  to  dis- 
cover a  kestrel's  nest  keep  watch  in  the  woods 
where  there  are  a  few  tall  old  firs,  and  sooner 
or  later  you  will  hear  the  chattering  cry  of  these 
talkative  little  hawks,  or  see  one  come  gliding 
overhead,  perhaps  to  take  perch  on  a  projecting 
bough,  when  you  can  note  what  a  dainty  sprite 
it  is,  its  reddish  plumage  showing  up  against  the 
heavy  dark  green  needles  of  the  fir  trees. 

Yet,  even  when  you  have  located  the  spot  where 
the  kestrels  have  established  themselves,  you 
have  still  to  discover  which  nest  they  are 
occupying,  for  old  spruces  like  these  are  usually 
made  good  use  of,  and  high  up  against  their 
tall  red  trunks  will  be  seen  various  bundles  of 
twigs,  some  bigger,  some  smaller,  being  the  nests, 

11 


162  WOODLAND   CREATURES 

old  and  new,  of  hawks,  squirrels,  and  wood- 
pigeons,  when  the  question  is,  which  are  the 
kestrels  using  ?  Sometimes  there  will  be  a  feather, 
a  scrap  of  down,  or  some  other  slight  indication 
which  will  betray  the  occupied  nest,  but  more 
often  you  have  to  climb  up  and  look  into  several 
nests  before  you  find  which  one  the  birds  have 
taken  possession  of.  Up  in  the  higher  stories  of 
the  woodland  world,  whence  you  look  down  into 
a  sea  of  greenery,  in  which  hazel  bushes,  brambles, 
ferns,  and  the  moss-covered  soil  become  merged 
in  one  another,  you  will  come  to  a  platform  of 
twigs  with  a  slight  central  depression,  wherein 
rest  half  a  dozen  rich  red  eggs.  On  close  exami- 
nation it  will  be  seen  that  the  eggs  are  a  light 
red-brown  heavily  blotched  with  dark  brown, 
but  they  vary  much,  some  being  merely  speckled 
with  the  darker  colour ;  however,  the  general 
colour  scheme  is  always  adhered  to,  and  they 
give  one  at  a  casual  glance  the  idea  of  being 
a  somewhat  dark  rich  brick-red  in  tint. 

Six  is  the  average  clutch,  more  or  less  being 
unusual.  How  far  the  ready-made  nest  is  altered, 
added  to,  or  repaired,  I  am  unable  to  say,  but 
my  opinion  is  that  very  little  is  done,  for  one 
cannot  find  any  signs  of  it,  and  when  these  birds 
nest,  as  they  do  now  and  again,  in  a  hollow  tree, 
you  find  the  eggs  resting  on  the  wood  chips  and 
crumbled  rubbish  that  one  always  meets  with 
in  old  hollow  trees.  Moreover,  when,  in  the  open 
country,  they  resort  to  a  ledge  in  a  crag  or  on 
a  cliff,  they  waste  little  time  in  building.     After 


THE   KESTREL  163 

but  slight  preparation  of  the  site  the  hen 
proceeds  to  her  egg  laying.  As  is  the  case  with 
so  many  other  birds,  she  begins  incubation  before 
the  last  one  is  laid,  sometimes  commencing  to 
sit  when  there  are  only  two  or  three  in  the 
nest,  so  the  first  young  one  hatches  days  ahead 
of  the  last. 

The  nestlings  are  queer  little  mites  clad  in 
greyish-white  down,  and  are  at  first  very  weak 
and  helpless,  but  their  mother  most  carefully 
breaks  up  the  food  brought  in  by  the  cock  and 
feeds  them  on  tiny  bits  of  it.  They  soon  wax 
strong  and  are  able  to  sit  up  and  tear  their  own 
meat  to  pieces,  but  the  parents  continue  to  be 
most  attentive  to  them,  and  whatever  may  be 
the  kestrel's  character  in  other  respects,  it  shows 
no  idleness  or  laziness  when  food  is  needed  for 
its  family,  but  hunts  for  the  nestlings  most  un- 
tiringly. The  old  birds  feel  the  strain  the  greatest 
when  the  young  are  nearly  full  grown  and  full 
fledged,  for  they  then  have  tremendous  appetites, 
and  are  continually  in  want  of  food.  It  is  then 
that  a  kestrel  may  become  somewhat  less  par- 
ticular what  it  takes,  and  young  thrushes, 
blackbirds,  etc.,  may  find  their  way  to  that 
platform  of  twigs  in  the  tall  old  spruce  where  those 
five  or  six  youngsters  gaze  down  at  the  wide 
world  below  them. 

It  is  said  above  that  they  get  more  and  more 
voracious  as  their  feathers  appear,  and  it  is 
wonderful  how  quickly  their  plumage  comes. 
The  tips  of  the  flight  feather  appear  first,  then 


164  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

some  brown  tufts  peep  out  amid  the  white  down 
of  the  back  and  breast ;  meanwhile  they  flap 
their  httle  wings  and  practise  for  the  day  when 
they  will  be  strong  enough,  and  bold  enough, 
to  hop  out  of  the  nest  on  to  some  of  the  nearer 
branches.  The  fact  that  the  young  hawks  grow- 
ing feathers  are  free  from  "  hunger  traces  "  shows 
how  well  their  parents  keep  them  suppHed,  and 
that  they  have  never  been  allowed  to  go  short 
of  food,  for  when  the  feathers  of  young  birds 
are  coming  down  rapidly  a  fast  is  recorded  in 
a  most  unmistakable  fashion,  namely  by  trans- 
parent lines  across  the  webbing  of  the  feathers, 
particularly  those  of  the  tail  and  wings.  If  you 
did  not  know  that  these  markings  were  hunger 
traces,  you  might  suppose  a  knife  had  been  drawn 
across  the  feathers,  but  they  are  caused  by  the 
check  that  the  growing  feathers  receive  when 
the  nestling  has  to  go  without  food. 

As  soon  as  they  are  fully  feathered  the  eyasses 
(to  use  the  old-fashioned  term  for  young  hawks) 
become  restless,  and  an  adventurous  spirit 
develops  among  them ;  they  are  no  longer  con- 
tent to  look  over  the  edge  of  their  platform 
of  twigs,  but  scramble  about  the  nest,  until  one, 
bolder  than  its  fellows,  hops  out  on  to  one  of 
the  nearer  boughs.  After  this  they  perch  about 
on  the  branches,  but  keep  near  home,  so  as  not 
to  miss  their  parents  when  they  return  with  pro- 
visions. Up  to  this  point  in  their  development 
their  tail-feathers  have  not  grown  so  much  as  the 
rest  of  their  plumage,   but  once  they  reach  the 


THE   KESTREL  165 

stage  of  sitting  out  on  the  branches  their  tails 
come  down  rapidly,  so  that  the  feathers  are  soon 
as  long  as  those  of  their  parents.  It  appears  to 
be  a  provision  of  Nature  to  do  away  with  the 
nuisance  that  a  long  tail  would  be  in  the  nest, 
where  the  feathers  would  get  soiled  and  bent, 
if  not  broken  beyond  recovery. 

For  some  weeks  after  they  have  left  the  nest 
the  old  birds  continue  to  supply  the  eyasses  with 
food,  the  youngsters  crying  and  screaming  most 
piteously  if  their  parents  get  at  all  behind  with 
the  meals.  It  is  just  at  this  time  in  their  careers 
that  you  may  sometimes  see  four  or  five  kestrels 
together,  flying  to  and  fro  over  the  trees  and 
playing  in  the  air.  Their  aerial  gambols  are  a 
very  pretty  sight,  for  the  hawks  float  round  and 
round,  turning  and  twisting,  and  driving  at  one 
another  as  if  in  mimic  combat.  I  imagine  that, 
however  playful  these  games  may  appear, 
there  is  a  serious  purpose  behind  them,  namely 
practise  for  the  young  ones  in  the  use  of  their 
wings,  though  they  fly  so  well  that  you  would 
not  think  they  need  it.  However,  they  do  many 
tricks,  side-slipping,  vol-planeing,  etc.,  as  if  to 
the  manner  born,  only  drawing  the  line  at  "  looping 
the  loop."  The  one  bird  that  I  have  seen  attempt 
something  approaching  the  latter  feat  was  an 
old  cock  raven,  whose  mate  was  sitting  on  her 
nest  in  a  Westmorland  crag,  while  he  patrolled 
round  about  and  kept  an  eye  on  the  country- 
side. His  chief  beat  was  to  and  fro  along  the 
face   of   the   crag,    and   apparently   he   got    very 


166  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

tired  of  doing  "  sentry  go,"  for  as  I  watched  he 
began  playing  antics  in  the  air.  He  made  steep 
dives,  flew  up  again,  and  then  with  a  queer  little 
cry  flung  himself  sideways,  so  that  he  turned  over 
on  his  back,  in  which  position  he  glided  for  a 
moment  before  righting  himself  and  flying  on 
to  repeat  the  trick  a  few  yards  beyond.  After 
side-rolling  some  half-dozen  times  he  gave  a 
harsh  croak  and  resumed  his  flight  backwards 
and  forwards,  going  first  one  way  and  then  the 
other  like  a  policeman  on  his  beat. 

The  kestrel's  exhibition,  though  charming  to 
watch,  cannot  show  any  sensational  feats  to 
equal  that  of  the  old  raven.  All  the  same,  this 
hawk  is  an  expert  on  the  wing,  as  its  everyday 
performance  of  hanging  stationary  in  the  air 
shows.  A  noticeable  peculiarity  of  this,  and 
some  other  hawks,  is  that  when  flying  to  a  perch 
it  does  not  go  straight  to  the  bough,  but  approaches 
from  below  it,  shoots  up  into  the  air,  and  then 
drops  on  to  the  branch. 

Like  most  birds  of  prey,  the  innocent  kestrel 
often  comes  to  grief  at  the  gamekeeper's  hands, 
or  rather  gun,  and  one  will  find  it  hanging  from 
his  gibbet,  in  company  with  crows,  sparrow  hawks, 
magpies,  and  other  creatures  that  he  has  much 
more  justification  for  kiUing.  But  many  en- 
lightened keepers  now  realize  that  in  this  small 
hawk  they  have  an  ally,  not  a  foe,  and  spare  it 
accordingly,  for,  as  already  indicated,  mice  form 
the  greater  part  of  its  diet,  particularly  meadow 
voles,  and  next  long-tailed  mice  and  bank  voles. 


THE   KESTREL  167 

It  will  also  eat  insects,  especially  beetles,  and  in 
the  early  mornings,  when  the  worms  are  up  on 
the  surface,  is  not  above  an  easily  gathered  meal 
of  them.  Its  method  of  mouse  hunting  has 
already  been  described,  how  it  hovers  forty  or  fifty 
feet  above  the  ground  waiting  and  watching  for 
a  vole  to  move  in  the  grass  below,  and  then  drops 
upon  it ;  but  sometimes,  if  a  small  bird  appears 
beneath,  offering  it  an  easy  capture,  it  will  drop 
on  that  instead.  It  certainly  does  not  go  out 
of  its  way  to  look  for  birds  ;  at  any  rate  as  a 
rule.  I  say  "as  a  rule "  because  everything 
has  its  exceptions,  and  in  all  species  you  will 
find  now  and  again  an  individual  that  does  not 
behave  like  the  rest  of  its  kind,  so,  once  in  a  while, 
you  may  meet  with  a  kestrel  that  drops  on 
birds,  not  by  accident,  but  by  intention  ;  but  in 
these  instances  the  old  saying,  that  "  exceptions 
prove  the  rule,"  should  not  be  forgotten,  in 
this  case  "  the  rule "  being  that  the  kestrel  is 
chiefly  a  mouse-slayer,  supplementing  this  diet 
with  insects  and  grubs.  Dr.  Colhnge  estimates 
that  from  our  point  of  view  64*5  per  cent,  of  the 
food  of  this  bird  is  directly  beneficial,  29*5  per 
cent,  neutral,  and  6  per  cent,  injurious.^  But, 
as  the  only  injury  a  kestrel  does  us  is  when 
an  exceptional  one  attacks  young  pheasants, 
partridges,  or  chickens,  I  think  even  6  per  cent, 
is  too  high  an  estimate.  I  must  add  that  I 
have  never  known  a  kestrel  take  a  chicken, 
accusations  of  doing  so  always  turning  out  tQ 
»  Witljerby's  Handbgoh  of  British  Birds,  p.  i2/\, 


168  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

be  due  to  confusion  with  a  raiding  sparrow 
hawk. 

As  in  its  nest  building,  or  rather  in  its  neglect 
to  build  a  nest,  so  in  its  hunting,  the  kestrel  is  a 
lazy  bird,  and  if  it  does  not  succeed  in  capturing 
its  quarry  when  it  drops  upon  it,  rarely  exerts 
itself  to  chase  it,  which  is,  I  beheve,  the  reason 
it  seldom  takes  winged  quarry.  It  is  only  an 
exceptional  kestrel  which  has  the  energy  to  indulge 
in  a  chase,  though  with  its  long  pointed  wings 
it  should  have  speed  enough  to  overtake  any- 
thing within  reason.  In  shape  and  build  it  is 
not  unlike  its  relative  the  hobby,  an  uncommon 
and  most  beautiful  little  hawk,  which  is  very 
quick  on  the  wing,  flying  so  rapidly  indeed  that 
it  has  been  known  to  overtake  a  swift  in  fair 
chase !  ^ 

It  was  owing  to  its  lazy  temperament  that  the 
kestrel  was  so  despised  in  the  times  when  the 
training  of  hawks  was  a  fine  art,  for  not  even  the 
experts  of  Tudor  and  Ehzabethan  days  could 
make  anything  of  this  easygoing  bird,  so  it  was 
known  as  the  poor  man's  hawk,  for  no  one  who 
could  afford  anything  better  would  trouble  with 
such  a  useless  creature.  Yet  this  very  easy- 
going disposition  makes  the  kestrel  a  delightful 
pet,  as  it  soon  becomes  perfectly  tame  ;  indeed, 
a  more  confiding  creature  it  would  be  difficult 
to  find — that  is,  as  soon  as  it  has  got  over  its  first 
fright  at  finding  itself  near  human  beings.  As 
an  instance  take  the  case  of  an  old  female  that 

»  The  Rev.  J.  G.  Cornish,  Wild  Life,  vol.  vii.  p.  12. 


THE    KESTREL  169 

was  found  in  a  village  street  after  a  thunderstorm. 
Her  feathers  were  so  soaked  she  could  not  get 
upon  the  wing.  At  first  it  seemed  as  if  she 
must  have  flown  into  the  telegraph  wires  and 
hurt  herself,  but  there  was  not  the  slightest  trace 
of  injury,  and  the  next  day  she  was  quite  all  right, 
so  that  the  only  conclusion  possible  was  that 
the  downpour  had  wetted  her  to  such  an  extent 
as  to  make  her  quite  helpless.  Just  to  see  what 
could  be  done  with  an  old,  wild-caught  kestrel, 
I  kept  her  for  a  little  while.  By  the  end  of  the 
first  day  she  was  eating  freely  on  the  fist,  she 
jumped  to  it  for  food  the  second,  the  third  she 
came  quite  eagerly,  and  before  the  week  was 
out  she  would  come  any  reasonable  distance  to 
either  fist  or  lure.  Yet  she  saw  comparatively 
little  of  me ;  I  could  give  but  little  time  to 
carrying  her  about,  and  the  amount  of  attention 
she  got  would  not  have  kept  a  sparrow  hawk 
half  tame,  let  alone  reclaimed  it  from  wildness. 
It  shows  what  a  difference  there  is  in  the  tem- 
perament of  the  two  species. 

This  mention  of  a  tame  kestrel  reminds  me  to 
say,  for  the  benefit  of  anyone  who  may  wish  to 
handle  live  specimens  of  either  of  our  two  common 
hawks,  that  their  modes  of  defence  are  quite 
different.  The  sparrow  hawk  when  annoyed  and 
on  the  defensive  uses  its  feet,  striking  most 
viciously  with  them,  but  never  biting  or  making 
any  use  of  its  beak ;  the  kestrel  does  exactly  the 
reverse,  biting  like  a  parrot,  but  not  employing 
its  feet. 


170  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

To  go  back  to  the  tame  kestrel  mentioned  above, 
at  the  end  of  three  weeks  I  decided  she  had 
enjoyed  my  hospitaUty  long  enough,  especially  as 
she  refused  to  show  any  sport,  and  if  thrown  off 
the  fist  in  pursuit  of  a  bird  simply  flew  in  the 
opposite  direction.  So,  as  she  had  quite  got  over 
her  adventure  in  the  village,  she  was  given  an 
extra  good  feed,  her  jesses  (little  leather  straps 
round  the  legs)  were  cut  off,  and  she  was  left  free 
to  do  what  she  pleased,  but  she  was  in  no  hurry 
to  be  gone,  and  sat  for  some  time  on  a  tree-top, 
but  at  last  a  wild  kestrel  passed  over,  whereupon 
she  flew  off  towards  the  woods  and  was  never 
seen  again. 

This  mention  of  a  wild  kestrel  reminds  me  of 
the  visits  a  former  kestrel  used  to  have  from 
others  of  its  kind.  It  and  two  sparrow  hawks 
used  to  sit  out  on  their  perches  on  the  lawn,  the 
kestrel  on  a  block  and  the  sparrow  hawks  on 
their  bow-perches,  and  one  day  I  was  startled  to 
hear  a  loud  chattering  in  the  garden.  On  going 
to  see  what  was  the  matter  I  found  a  wild  kestrel 
was  perched  on  one  of  the  trees  at  the  edge  of 
the  lawn,  and  appeared  to  be  doing  its  best  to 
attract  the  tame  kestrel's  attention,  but  Jim,  as 
he  was  called,  took  no  notice,  so  the  stranger 
swooped  down  and  flew  across  the  lawn  just 
over  his  head.  At  this  Jim  did  look  up,  but 
still  did  not  seem  much  interested.  Again  and 
again  the  visitor  swept  backwards  and  forwards, 
until  it  unfortunately  caught  a  glimpse  of  me 
and  flew  away.    The  next  day  I  again  heard  the 


THE   KESTREL  171 

chattering,  and  this  time  found  there  were  two 
strange  hawks  visiting  the  trained  ones,  or  rather 
visiting  Jim,  for  they  paid  no  attention  to  the 
sparrow  hawks,  and  looked  only  at  their  relative. 
First  one  came  down,  and  then  the  other,  and 
advanced  with  fluffed-out  feathers,  and  tails 
spread  fan-wise,  to  where  he  sat  on  his  perch. 
I  was  too  far  off  to  see  for  certain  what  they  were, 
but  thought  it  was  an  old  hen  and  a  cock  in  the 
first  year's  plumage.  For  several  minutes  they 
continued  to  chatter  and  scold,  looking  very  quaint 
as  they  ran  about  on  their  little  short  legs.  But, 
except  for  screaming  in  answer  once  or  twice, 
Jim  took  little  notice  of  them,  so  that  I  was 
totally  unprepared  for  the  next  episode.  The 
bigger  bird  suddenly  went  straight  at  James, 
knocked  him  head  over  heels  off  his  perch,  and 
proceeded  to  punish  him  severely.  It  was  so 
unlocked  for,  and  so  unwarranted,  that  though 
Jim  appeared  to  be  doing  his  best  to  give  as  good 
as  he  got,  I  rushed  up  and  drove  the  strangers 
off.  They  came  several  times  afterwards,  but  I 
did  not  see  them  attempt  to  attack  him  again. 

In  concluding  this  chapter  I  would  say  to 
those  who  have  control  of  woods  and  shootings, 
Do  not  let  your  kestrels  be  destroyed;  they  will 
do  you  little  if  any  harm,  but  much  good,  and 
if  you  love  wild  nature  will  reward  you  with 
many  a  charming  sight. 

(The  kestrel,  Falco  tinnunculus,  Linn.,  is  a 
widely  distributed  species,  ranging  throughout  Europe, 


172  WOODLAND   CREATURES 

North  Africa,  and  the  greater  part  of  Asia.  The 
form  we  meet  with  in  Britain  is  regarded  as  the 
same  as  that  found  on  the  Continent,  so  it  will  net 
be  necessary  to  consider  its  sub-specific  status.  A 
smaller,  quite  distinct,  but  allied  species,  that  has 
occurred  rarely  in  Britain  {eleven  times  in  all)  is 
the  Lesser  Kestrel,  Falco  naumanni,  Fleisch,  which 
is  a  native  of  the  Mediterranean  countries.) 


CHAPTER   IX 
THE    COMMON    RABBIT 

AS  every  covert  has  its  population  of  rabbits, 
a  chapter  must  be  spared  for  this  com- 
monplace little  animal.  We  all  know  its 
prick  ears,  grey-brown  form,  and  bobbing  white 
tail ;  yet  there  are  many  interesting  points  about 
it.  To  begin  with,  it  is  not  a  native  of  these  islands, 
but  has  been  introduced,  like  the  pheasant,  within 
historic  times.  At  first  the  fact  seems  almost 
incredible :  we  can  hardly  realize  that  the  rabbit 
which  is  to  be  met  with  everywhere,  the  creature 
which  dwells  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  in  the 
woods,  hedgerows,  and  meadows,  is  really  a  new- 
comer, a  stranger  in  our  midst,  and  an  alien  like 
the  red-legged  partridge  or  the  little  owl !  Yet 
this  is  so :  once  upon  a  time  there  were  no  rabbits 
to  worry  the  primitive  farmers,  no  white  tails 
went  bobbing  across  the  country,  and  the  fox 
and  the  stoat  of  those  days  must  have  had  a 
very  different  "  bill  of  fare  "  from  that  on  which 
they  now  live.  Perhaps  it  was  the  hare  to  which 
they  devoted  their  attention.  But  the  rabbit 
is  now  firmly  established,  it  is  part   and  parcel 

173 


174  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

of  the  life  of  our  country-side  ;    yet,  as  already 
said,  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  it  was  known 
here  prior  to  Norman  times  ;    we  have  no  names 
for  it  of  either  English  or  Celtic  origin,  the  words 
"  rabbit  "  and  "  cony  "  being  both  derived  from 
the  French.^     It  is  not  alluded  to  in  pre-Norman 
MSS.,  and  the   earliest  remains    that   have   been 
found  were  some  bones  in   the  rubbish  heap  of 
Rayleigh  Castle,  Essex,  which  was  occupied  from 
the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  to  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  century.     A  closely  allied  but  slightly 
different   rabbit   lived   here   in   pre-Glacial   times, 
the  bones  of  which  have  been  discovered  in  some 
of  those  deposits  which  have  yielded  such  quantities 
of  remains,  but  it  seems  to  have  been  completely 
exterminated  when  the  great  ice  sheet  crept  across 
the  whole  of  North  Europe.     The  evidence  points 
to    our    present  -  day    rabbit    having    come    from 
Spain,  where  rabbits  were  known  in  the  earliest 
times,  and  having  gradually  spread  hence  across 
the  rest  of  the  Continent.*    How  it  got  into  the 
British  Isles  is  another  matter,  but  probably  some 
sporting   nobleman   of   Norman   times   introduced 
it  to  provide  sport  on  his  English  estate.     Even 
yet   it   is   extending   its   range,   for   records   show 
that  it  is  now  plentiful  in  many  parts  of  Scot- 
land,  where   a   few   years  ago  it  was  not   to   be 
met  with. 

In     this     country,     where     we     have     several 
carnivorous  animals  perfectly  competent  to  keep 

»  Barrett-Hamilton,  A  History  of  British  Mammals,  p.  177 
*  Ibid.,  p.  185. 


THE   COMMON    RABBIT  175 

its  numbers  down,  the  rabbit  has  never  been  a 
serious  nuisance,  though  it  certainly  does  a  good 
deal  of  harm  in  some  districts,  what  with  eating 
the  young  grain,  barking  small  trees,  etc.,  but  we 
have  all  heard  the  result  that  attended  its 
introduction  into  Australia !  There  it  increased 
so  rapidly  in  the  dry,  favourable  climate  that 
it  became  a  perfect  plague.  Happily  our  more 
humid  conditions  prevent  "  all  the  year  round  " 
breeding  ;  besides,  we  have  plenty  of  foxes,  stoats, 
cats,  and  badgers  to  lend  willing  assistance  in 
keeping  it  down.  It  is  a  strong  point  in  favour 
of  the  badger  that  it  often  digs  out  and  devours 
young  rabbits,  and  should  form  an  additional 
reason  for  protecting  this  much-persecuted  animal. 
In  southern  Shropshire  we  have  plenty  of 
badgers,  and  their  assistance  in  keeping  the  rabbits 
within  reasonable  limits  is  invaluable.  In  the 
spring  time,  when  the  old  doe  rabbits  begin  house- 
hunting, the  badgers  rouse  themselves  to  activity 
(though  they  do  not  actually  hibernate,  they  lie 
up  a  good  deal  during  bad  weather),  and  coming 
forth  from  their  fastnesses  search  far  and  wide 
for  food.  They  range  through  the  woods  and 
over  the  fields,  their  broad  pad-marks  being  found 
many  miles  from  the  nearest  sett,  and  with  their 
wonderfully  keen  noses  they  discover  a  great 
number  of  the  early  nests.  It  matters  not  how 
carefully  the  doe  has  covered  the  young  ones 
up  in  their  snug  nest  of  wool  from  her  own  body, 
nor  how  she  has  scratched  the  earth  that  was 
drawn  from  the  hole  back  into  its   mouth,   the 


176  WOODLAND   CREATURES 

badger  will  not  be  deceived.  It  knows  quite 
well  that  the  neatly  padded-down  soil  indicates 
a  burrow  with  young  ones  in  it.  Its  first  proceeding 
on  finding  such  a  sealed-up  hole  is  to  scratch 
away  the  earth  lying  in  and  over  the  mouth, 
so  as  to  be  sure  of  the  direction  in  which  the 
tunnel  goes  ;  its  second,  to  nose  round  on  the 
surface  until  it  locates  the  exact  spot  under 
which  the  little  rabbits  are  lying.  So  keen  is 
its  sense  of  smell  that  it  will  locate  them  through 
a  couple  of  feet  of  soil.  Unless  the  badger  is 
interrupted  in  its  task,  which  is  not  likely,  for 
the  rest  of  the  night  creatures  fear  and  respect 
the  power  of  its  jaw,  the  poor  young  things  are 
doomed ;  for,  to  an  animal  which  is  such  a 
powerful  digger,  a  couple  of  feet  of  earth  is  a 
trifle  which  is  soon  scraped  away.  The  poor 
little  rabbits  have  then  but  short-shrift :  a  few 
crunches  of  the  badger's  powerful  jaws  and  they 
are  gone  !  The  bright  hght  of  the  rising  sun  will 
shine  on  a  hole  sunk  like  a  shaft  straight  down 
into  the  soil,  on  a  collection  of  grass  and  soft 
rabbit  fur  in  the  bottom,  on  a  few  broad  pad- 
marks  on  the  damp  earth,  and  the  scratches  made 
by  powerful  claws  on  the  sides  of  the  hole.  This 
is  all  that  will  be  left  to  tell  the  tale  of  what  passed 
in  the  night. 

The  fox  likewise  accounts  for  a  great  many 
young  rabbits  ;  indeed,  it  is  the  rabbit's  greatest 
foe,  for  it  persecutes  it  at  all  ages,  from  the  naked 
young  in  their  underground  nursery  to  the  period, 
if  it  is  ever  reached,  when  old  age  begins  to  dull 


THE    COMMON    RABBIT  177 

the  senses.  With  the  Httle  ones  he  adopts  the 
tactics  of  the  badger,  but  the  full-grown  rabbits 
he  stalks  with  catlike  cunning.  It  requires  a 
good  deal  of  experience  and  wood-craft  to  tell 
whether  it  was  a  fox  or  a  badger  that  excavated 
a  nest.  If  there  are  tracks  to  be  found,  the  matter 
is  comparatively  easy,  for,  as  explained  in  the 
chapters  devoted  to  these  two  animals,  the  fox 
has  a  small,  neat,  narrow  pad,  while  the  badger 
leaves  a  much  bigger  impression,  almost  as  large 
as  that  of  a  big  dog,  and  much  broader  in  propor- 
tion ;  but  as  regards  the  hole  itself  the  main 
difference  lies  in  the  greater  size  and  breadth 
of  that  dug  by  the  badger. 

In  the  early  spring  the  female  rabbits  leave 
the  big  burrows  in  the  woods  and  hedgerows  where 
they  have  lived  during  the  winter,  and  proceed 
to  excavate  nurseries  out  of  the  way  of  the  other 
rabbits.  It  is  usually  said  that  they  do  so  for 
fear  the  old  bucks  should  kill  the  young  ones, 
but  as  later  in  the  season  many  litters  are 
successfully  reared  in  the  big  burrows,  this  hardly 
seems  a  sufficient  reason.  But  at  any  rate  such 
is  the  custom.  Somewhere  at  a  distance  from 
headquarters  a  hole  is  scratched  out,  from  two 
and  a  half  to  three  feet  in  length,  and  at  the 
end  of  it  the  old  rabbit  prepares  a  warm  bed. 
First  she  collects  mouthfuls  of  grass,  until  she 
has  quite  a  quantity  piled  up  in  the  hole,  then 
she  robs  herself  that  the  nest  may  be  lined  with 
the  softest  wool.  She  strips  the  fur  from  her 
flanks   and   under-parts  that  the  little   ones   may 

12 


178  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

lack  nothing  in  comfort ;  indeed,  their  bed  is  the 
softest  and  most  cosy  that  could  be  imagined, 
for  being  born  naked,  blind,  and  helpless,  they 
need  to  be  kept  warm  and  dry. 

Twice  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  watching  a 
doe  at  work  gathering  materials  for  the  nest. 
Once  it  was  a  rabbit  that  had  invaded  the  garden. 
I  spied  her  when  she  was  quietly  nibbling  the 
even  turf  of  the  lawn,  and,  as  my  eye  lit  on  her 
brown  shape,  I  thought  what  trouble  there  was 
in  store  for  her,  as  rabbits  were  not  appreciated 
in  the  garden.  However,  I  did  not  disturb  her, 
but  waited  and  watched.  In  a  few  seconds  she 
stopped  eating,  sat  up,  and  looked  round,  but 
did  not  see  me,  and  proceeded  to  wash  her  face. 
She  did  it  in  just  the  same  manner  as  a  cat,  passing 
each  paw  rapidly  over  her  nose,  licking  them 
between  each  wipe,  and  then  rubbing  them  behind 
the  ears  and  bringing  them  again  down  over  the 
nose.  Then  she  pulled  her  ears  down,  next 
twisted  round  and  licked  her  sides,  after  which 
she  shook  her  fore-feet  and  hopped  away  towards 
a  shrub,  round  the  stem  of  which  the  grass  had 
managed  to  escape  the  lawn  mower.  She  sniffed 
about  for  a  moment,  then  proceeded  to  gather 
a  mouthful  of  the  deadest  and  dryest  grass  she 
could  find,  and  after  she  had  got  as  much  as  she 
could  carry,  hopped  off  with  it  towards  a  little 
plantation  of  trees  and  shrubs.  In  a  minute  or 
two  she  came  hopping  back,  gathered  another 
mouthful,  and  disappeared  again.  Thus  she 
made   several   journeys    and   one   or   two   of   the 


THE    COMMON    RABBIT  179 

mouthfuls  she  took  contained  leaves  as  well  as 
grass.  At  last  she  returned  to  eat,  first  shaking 
her  fore-feet  and  flipping  her  hind,  as  if  pleased 
at  getting  the  nest  making  done. 

On  hunting  the  plantation  I  found  her  nest, 
a  newly  scratched-out  hole,  the  mouth  of  which 
was  littered  with  freshly  gathered  bits  of  grass. 
The  next  morning  the  tunnel  was  sealed  up  ;  the 
soil  had  been  scratched  back  over  the  entrance 
and  firmly  padded  down  so  as  to  block  it  up. 
Evidently  the  family  had  arrived,  and  one  could 
picture  the  wee  pink  mites  lying  at  the  end  of 
that  dark  hole  warmly  wrapped  up  in  their 
blanket  of  fur  and  grass.  I  also  pictured  the  damage 
they  would  do  by  and  by  in  the  garden  !  But 
as  I  was  leaving  the  plantation  something  bright 
caught  my  attention.  It  was  the  eye  of  a  rabbit, 
which  was  sitting  hidden  in  its  form — or,  as  the 
country  people  call  it,  its  "  squat " — under  a 
thick  brier  bush.  It  was  undoubtedly  the  doe. 
She  was  practically  invisible,  for  a  rabbit's  coat 
blends  so  perfectly  with  its  surroundings  that 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  distinguish  it  from  the 
soil,  the  dead  undergrowth,  and  the  shadows 
thrown  by  the  foliage.  I  left  her  in  peace  and 
told  no  tales.  Some  six  weeks  after  there  were 
great  complaints  of  the  mischief  rabbits  were 
doing  in  the  kitchen-garden  ! 

The  doe  rabbit  never  lies  with  her  family,  but 
invariably  leaves  them  safely  shut  into  their 
hole  while  she  retreats  to  a  distance,  spending  the 
greater  part  of  the  day  motionless  in  a  form,  where 


180  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

she  waits  for  the  waning  hght  of  evening  before 
she  revisits  them.  Probably  it  is  safer  to  leave 
them  alone  as  much  as  possible,  as  too  frequent 
visits  would  be  apt  to  betray  them  to  the  numerous 
creatures  that  slay  young  rabbits. 

It  is  often  asserted  that  the  old  rabbit  will 
not  tolerate  any  interference  with  her  litter, 
that  if  the  nest  be  opened,  if  the  little  ones  are 
touched,  or  if  they  are  in  any  way  disturbed,  she 
will  either  desert  them  or  destroy  them,  but  I 
can  vouch  for  there  being  exceptions  to  this  rule — 
if  rule  it  be,  which  I  doubt.  On  one  occasion  I 
thought  I  would  see  if  a  pet  cat  would  rear  some 
little  rabbits  with  her  kittens,  so  sought  for  a  nest 
from  which  to  get  some  suitable  youngsters.  A 
sealed  hole  was  found  and  opened.  It  contained 
little  rabbits  that  were  the  right  size  for  my  pur- 
pose— they  were  well  covered  with  fur  and  their 
eyes  were  just  open  ;  so  I  took  two  of  them,  and 
replaced  the  soil  as  neatly  as  possible.  A  \4sit 
next  da}^  showed  the  nest  had  been  opened  and 
closed  in  the  night  by  the  old  rabbit,  and  when 
I  again  opened  the  nest  several  days  later  the 
family  were  perfectly  well  and  very  much  grown. 
The  removal  of  yet  another  did  not  prevent  the 
doe  returning  to  the  remainder. 

Those  that  were  handed  over  to  the  care  of 
the  cat  also  flourished,  at  least  until  their  careers 
were  brought  to  an  untimely  close.  She  was 
induced  to  adopt  them  in  the  following  way :  some 
of  the  kittens  were  taken  away,  and  the  rabbits 
substituted   for  them.     This  was   done   while  the 


THE   COMMON   RABBIT  ISl 

cat  was  out  of  the  way.  When  she  came  in  from 
a  walk  round  the  garden  she  must  have  been 
greatly  puzzled  at  the  change  which  had  taken 
place  in  her  kittens — there  were  now  only  two 
black  and  white  ones,  the  others  having  become 
a  greyish  brown  ;  but  after  a  little  hesitation 
she  seemed  to  conclude  the  mistake  had  been 
on  her  side,  so  got  into  the  basket,  lay  down, 
and  cuddled  them  all  up  to  her.  A  minute  or 
two  later  she  began  to  wash  the  strange  "  kittens." 
It  was  then  certain  all  would  be  well. 

Now  occurred  a  most  unexpected  development. 
Another  cat,  "  Old  Puss "  (this  is  the  one  that 
reared  "  Whiskers "  the  rat  ^),  who  had  had 
kittens  at  the  same  time,  and  whose  family  had 
been  reduced  to  one,  took  a  fancy  to  the  mixed 
family,  carried  her  only  kitten  to  the  basket, 
and  established  herself  as  foster-mother  to  them. 
When  discovered  they  were  all  lying  together, 
the  two  old  cats,  their  three  kittens,  and  the 
two  little  rabbits,  to  which  I  added  a  third  young 
rabbit  to  make  the  numbers  equal.  This  strange 
family  flourished  greatly,  and  I  tried  to  get  some 
photographs  of  them  all  together,  but  more  trouble- 
some creatures  were  never  put  before  a  camera. 
They  had  to  be  taken  out  on  to  the  lawn  on  account 
of  the  light,  where  they  kept  running  first  in 
one  direction  and  then  in  another.  The  two 
parents  were  no  better,  as  they  ran  after  the 
truants.  It  was  a  curious  sight  to  see  a  small 
rabbit    hopping    away    over    the    grass    with    an 

'  See  my  book  Wild  Creatures  of  Garden  and  Hedgerow. 


182  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

anxious  cat  in  pursuit.  Once  the  younger  cat 
tried  to  pick  up  a  runaway  rabbit  and  bring  it 
back  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck,  as  she  would  have 
done  with  a  kitten,  but  the  rabbit  did  not  under- 
stand, and  kicked  so  much  she  had  to  drop  it. 
Such  experiments  on  the  cat's  part  always  made 
me  anxious,  as  I  was  afraid  that  she  might  one 
day  find  out  what  manner  of  animal  she  really 
had  to  do  with.  To  make  matters  worse,  both 
the  cats  were  inveterate  poachers  who  had  slain 
many  rabbits.  However,  I  at  length  got  some 
photographs  taken  without  any  mishap  having 
occurred,  but  in  hardly  any  is  the  group  complete, 
as  it  was  so  exceedingly  difficult  to  get  them  all 
into  the  picture ;  a  rabbit  or  a  kitten  was  sure  to 
dodge  out  of  sight  just  as  one  was  going  to  press 
the  shutter  release,  for  they  were  on  the  run  the 
whole  time. 

As  the  rabbits  grew  older  they  became  very 
sweet  little  creatures,  and  were  perfectly  tame. 
They  and  the  kittens  throve  and  flourished,  they 
all  played  together,  and  seemed  the  best  of  good 
comrades.  People  who  had  talked  about  the 
cats  "  having  rabbits  for  supper "  forgot  their 
remarks,  and  only  said,  "  How  wonderful  !  " 
However,  I  did  begin  to  get  a  little  uneasy  when 
I  saw  the  kittens  having  "  rough  and  tumbles  " 
with  the  rabbits,  especially  as  the  former  were 
getting  quite  big  ;  still,  the  hint  was  not  taken, 
nor  the  coming  tragedy  anticipated.  One  morning 
on  coming  downstairs  I  found  the  two  old  cats 
in    a    frantic    state ;     they    were    mewing    most 


■^ 

<D 

Xi 

S 

•  *. 

■*-* 

tn 

ij 

'-2 

i 

ID    O 


rt    S 


s^  t/;  1) 

S  O  Si 

^  ^  o 

i-r.  C  (U 


a    g  § 

H    -Jl  ^ 

^    c3 


THE    COMMON    RABBIT  183 

piteously,  so  that  I  could  not  think  what  was  the 
matter.  On  looking  about,  the  reason  was  only 
too  apparent — the  young  rabbits  were  lying  dead  ! 
They  had  been  killed  by  their  foster  brother  and 
sisters — and  everybody  said,  "  What  else  did  you 
expect !  " 

It  seems  strange  that  one  of  the  worst  enemies 
of  the  rabbit — for  a  poaching  cat  is  a  demon — 
should  so  easily  have  been  made  to  nurse  and 
bring  up  the  young  of  what  would  appear  to 
be  her  natural  foe  ;  yet  really  it  is  by  no  means 
difficult  to  get  cats  to  adopt  young  rabbits.  I 
have  had  three  instances,  and  have  known  of 
others. 

Poaching  Puss  must  certainly  take  rank  as  a 
factor  in  keeping  down  the  number  of  our  rabbits, 
especially  in  the  spring  and  summer  time  when 
there  are  countless  young  ones  running  about, 
but  the  elder  ones  too  have  cause  to  fear  her 
presence,  yet  curiously  enough  rabbits  will 
often  regard  a  cat  with  comparative  indifference. 
One  day  when  I  was  watching  some  rabbits  busy 
feeding  by  the  side  of  a  wood,  a  large  black  tom- 
cat came  out  of  the  covert  and  began  to  stalk 
them.  His  black  colouring  made  the  cat  most 
conspicuous,  and  undoubtedly  every  rabbit  saw 
him,  though  he  crouched  low  in  the  grass  and 
wormed  himself  towards  them  a  step  at  a  time. 
The  nearest  rabbits  flipped  their  heels  and  cantered 
off  a  yard  or  two,  where  they  went  on  nibbling 
the  short  turf.  Those  farther  away  paid  no 
attention  at  all ;   one  sat  up  and  washed  its  face. 


184  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

passing  a  paw  behind  a  ear  and  drawing  the  ear 
down  over  its  nose,  after  which  it  picked  its  paw 
and  wiped  its  ear  again.  In  the  meantime  the 
cat  was  creeping  closer  and  closer,  its  tail  twitching 
with  eager  anxiety,  but  the  rabbits  were  aware 
of  its  approach,  and  again  hopped  off.  Probably 
it  would  have  got  one  at  last,  but  an  overpowering 
desire  to  sneeze  suddenly  seized  me ;  the  very 
effort  to  suppress  it  made  it  louder  when  it  did 
break  forth,  and  a  moment  later  the  rabbits 
were  bolting  in  panic  for  the  wood.  The  cat 
made  a  half-hearted  rush  at  one  as  it  sped  past, 
and  then  slunk  off. 

Though  I  have  never  actually  seen  a  fox 
stalking  rabbits,  it  is  probable  they  are  equally 
indifferent  to  its  presence,  unless  threatening 
actual  danger,  for  I  have  seen  one  pass  close 
to  some  feeding  rabbits  without  alarming  them. 
Yet  in  some  respects  how  little  it  does  take  to 
frighten  them.  A  mere  footstep  will  be 
sufficient.  When  a  rabbit  is  aware  of  an 
intruder  it  quickly  notifies  its  neighbours  by 
thumping  on  the  ground  with  its  heels,  for 
sound  and  vibrations  carry  far  along  the 
ground.  This  danger  signal  is  invariably  given 
before  a  rabbit  takes  flight,  when  its  bobbing 
white  tail  also  notifies  its  friends  that  it  is  off. 
Many  naturaUsts  consider  that  the  purpose  of 
the  white  tail  is  to  act  as  a  danger  signal,  and 
it  is  certainly  not  nearly  so  noticeable  when 
the  rabbit  is  merely  hopping  about  or  feeding 
quietly.     It    is    also    a    fact    that    if    a    rabbit 


THE    COMMON    RABBIT  185 

thinks  it  can  retreat  unseen  it  will  take  good 
care  its  tail  does  not  give  it  away.  It  is  a  treat 
to  see  a  rabbit  stealing  quietly  off,  its  tail 
tucked  down  between  its  legs,  so  that  only  the 
dark  upper  portion  of  it  is  visible  ;  it  slips 
through  the  bushes  like  a  shadow,  and  is  almost 
at  once  lost  to  view.  Very  different  is  the 
behaviour  of  that  same  rabbit  when  alarmed 
in  the  open  and  when  it  knows  that  concealment 
is  hopeless.  Then  it  gallops  headlong  away, 
its  white  tail  being  displayed  as  visibly  as  a 
beacon  on  a  hill-top. 

Certain  authorities  say  the  object  of  displaying 
the  white  tail  is  for  the  purpose  of  leading  home 
to  the  burrows  the  young  and  inexperienced 
members  of  the  community,^  but  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  if  the  "  fluff-button "  is  really 
any  use  it  is  as  a  danger  signal.  Of  course  it 
may  serve  both  purposes,  but  if  you  watch 
rabbits  coming  out  to  feed  in  an  evening,  the 
way  they  hop  and  frisk  about,  nibbling  the 
grass  here  and  there,  scampering  and  playing, 
and  then  the  change  that  comes  over  the  scene 
at  the  sound  of  a  whistle,  you  will  hardly 
think  the  young  ones  want  showing  the  way 
home  !  They  all,  young  and  old,  big  and  little, 
thump  their  heels  on  the  ground  and  gallop 
off  as  hard  as  they  are  able ;  there  is  no  waiting 
for  old  ones  to  give  the  lead,  but  all  flee  pell- 
mell  for  shelter. 

'  Professor  Poulton,  The  Colours  oj  Animals,  p.  211,  and  A.  R. 
Wallace  in  Darwinism,  pp.  217-27. 


186  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

A  strong  sense  of  locality  is  possessed  by  the 
smallest  of  young  rabbits,  and  from  the  moment 
it  first  ventures  out,  to  bite  the  grass  at  the 
mouth  of  the  hole  in  which  it  was  born,  it 
keeps  one  eye  on  the  shortest  way  home,  so  as 
always  to  be  able  to  execute  a  speedy  retreat. 

The  reason  for  the  self-reliance  of  young  rabbits 
is  that,  once  they  are  able  to  eat,  their  mother 
takes  very  little  interest  in  them.  She  already 
has  another  family  in  prospect,  for  no  sooner 
is  the  first  litter  sent  out  into  the  world  than 
accommodation  has  to  be  got  ready  for  the 
next,  and  if  the  site  is  out  in  the  open  the 
hole  has  to  be  specially  dug,  though,  as  mentioned 
before,  many  a  family  is  reared  in  a  secluded 
corner  of  the  big  burrow.  How  much  truth 
there  is  in  the  assertion  that  under  these  cir- 
cumstances they  are  liable  to  be  murdered  by 
their  own  father,  is  a  matter  on  which  I  should 
not  like  to  venture  an  opinion.  Among 
domestic  rabbits  it  is  certainly  not  uncommon 
for  the  old  buck  to  destroy  his  progeny,  but 
the  conditions  of  life  in  a  cage  are  so  unnatural 
that  it  is  not  safe  to  draw  comparisons.  Yet, 
whatever  horrible  accidents  may  occasionally 
take  place  in  the  darkest  recesses  of  the  holes, 
the  mothers  must  as  a  rule  rear  their  families 
in  safety,  for  the  number  of  young  rabbits 
that  are  annually  launched  into  the  world 
is  enormous. 

Several  animals  have  already  been  alluded  to 
as  helping  to  keep  the  rabbit  population  within 


THE    COMMON    RABBIT  187 

bounds,  but  the  most  active  enemy  the  rabbit 
has,  has  not  yet  been  mentioned,  namely  the 
stoat.  This  fierce  httle  hunter  probably  kills 
more  rabbits  than  any  other  foe  save  man, 
and  it  is  feared  by  them  as  it  deserves  to  be 
feared.  When  it  enters  a  burrow  the  inhabitants 
flee  in  all  directions,  thumping  their  heels  as 
they  go,  and  bolting  for  the  upper  air.  If 
only  they  all  galloped  straight  away,  they  would 
be  safe,  but  this  is  just  what  they  do  not  do. 
Instead  they  stop,  sit  up,  listen  nervously, 
stamp  their  feet,  hop  on  a  yard  or  two,  and 
wait  again.  Possibly  they  think  the  alarm  was 
a  false  one.  Maybe  they  think  the  hunter  has 
settled  on  the  line  of  another  rabbit.  At  any 
rate  they  invariably  waste  their  chances  of 
escape  by  hngering  about.  Meantime  the 
stoat  has  picked  out  a  certain  trail  from  the 
many  scents  in  the  burrow,  and  to  this  it  will 
stick.  It  knows  if  it  keeps  changing  quarry  it 
will  never  be  able  to  kill,  but  with  its  wonderful 
nose  there  is  little  chance  of  it  losing  the  rabbit 
which  it  elects  to  hunt.  Once  the  stoat  has 
chosen  a  line,  the  rabbit  that  left  the  scent  is 
doomed,  though  even  yet  it  might  save  itself 
had  it  only  the  wits  to  gallop  right  away  without 
waste  of  time.  But  the  mentality  of  the  rabbit 
presents  some  curious  problems,  not  the  least 
of  which  is  why  the  mere  hint  of  the  presence 
of  a  stoat  should  have  a  paralysing  effect. 
The  minute  a  rabbit  reahzes  it  is  being  hunted 
by    a    stoat    it    loses    its    head.     It    will    canter 


188  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

perhaps  fifty  yards  and  then  crouch.  Mean- 
while the  stoat,  momentarily  at  fault,  gallops 
round  in  a  circle,  with  its  nose  to  the  ground, 
so  as  to  recover  the  line,  and  on  picking  up  the 
scent  is  off  again  like  a  flash.  The  poor  rabbit, 
suddenly  aware  that  death  is  at  its  very  heels, 
jumps  up  and  goes  on,  but  from  sheer  fright  is 
unable  to  gallop,  and  crouches  once  more  before 
it  has  covered  many  yards.  The  stoat,  however, 
is  almost  upon  it ;  it  dashes  along,  its  black- 
tipped  tail  flicking  from  side  to  side,  at  a  won- 
derful pace ;  the  scent  is  hot,  it  is  racing  to 
the  kill,  and,  as  the  victim  staggers  to  its  feet, 
it  springs  upon  it  like  a  whip-lash  flying 
through  the  air.  The  piteous  piercing  scream 
of  a  doomed  rabbit  rises  upon  the  air,  but  dies 
away  in  a  gurgle,  for  the  sharp  teeth  have 
penetrated  the  back  of  its  neck,  killing  it 
instantly. 

In  many  cases  the  rabbit  actually  sits  down 
and  waits,  unable  to  move,  until  the  stoat  comes 
up  to  it.  I  have  picked  up  hunted  rabbits  so 
petrified  by  fear  that  they  have  made  no 
attempt  to  get  away.  One  lay  in  my  hands  for 
ten  minutes  or  more  before  it  showed  signs  of 
recovery,  and  even  then  could  hardly  stagger 
off  home.  Rabbits  may  sometimes  be  found 
that  appear  to  have  died  of  fear  ;  at  any  rate 
one  cannot  find  a  mark  upon  them,  nor  any  trace 
of  injury.  The  trade-mark  of  the  stoat  and 
the  weasel  (the  latter  hardly  ever  attacks  full- 
grown  rabbits)   is  of  course  a  hole  bitten  in  the 


THE    COMMON    RABBIT  189 

back  of  the  neck,  and  where  you  find  one  dead 
rabbit  you  are  sure  to  find  several  more,  for  these 
fierce  httle  hunters  kill  as  much  for  sport  as  for 
actual  need  of  food. 

There  is  but  one  circumstance  under  which 
a  rabbit  may  collect  sufficient  courage  to  keep 
its  numbing  fear  of  the  stoat  at  a  distance,  and 
that  is  when  a  doe  finds  it  attacking  her  young. 
Mother-love  will  work  miracles ;  it  will  even 
nerve  a  rabbit  to  turn  on  a  stoat !  Even  then 
it  happens  but  seldom,  and  only  three  cases  have 
come  to  my  notice.  The  first  was  witnessed 
by  my  father,  who  was  out  one  spring  evening 
near  a  spot  where  numerous  rabbits  were  feeding. 
He  was  walking  along  so  quietly  that  they 
did  not  take  alarm,  and  had  got  within  thirty 
yards  of  the  three  or  four  nearest  ones  "  when 
they  pricked  up  their  ears  and  looked  towards 
a  bush.  There  was  a  rustling,  scuffling  noise, 
and  out  came  a  big  stoat,  followed  by  a  rabbit. 
She  did  not  give  him  a  moment,  but,  jumping 
over  him,  dealt  him  a  sharp  blow  with  her  heels. 
He  hissed  and  swore  and  tried  to  get  away,  but 
she  went  after  him  and  hit  him  again  and  again 
before  he  could  get  under  some  dead  bracken. 
The  other  rabbits  sat  up  and  watched,  and 
not  one  ran  away." 

Two  almost  identical  accounts,  each  told 
within  a  few  hours  of  the  heroic  duels  being 
seen,  have  been  given  me,  the  one  by  a  school- 
boy, the  other  by  an  old  workman.  The  latter 
said  :    "A  gert  stoat  come  out  o'  a  bury  wid  a 


190  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

little  wee  rabbut  in  his  jaws,  an'  out  behind  him 
come  th'  old  rabbut,  an'  she  fetches  him  one 
over  th'  back,  so  that  he  drops  th'  little  'un, 
an'  away  he  goes  for  th'  bushes,  an'  her  arter 
him  !  But  th'  little  'un  was  dead — bit  through 
th'  back  o'  th'  neck  !     No,  I  didner  see  no  more." 

Their  powerful  hind-feet  are  practically  the 
only  means  of  defence  that  rabbits  have,  for 
they  seldom  make  use  of  their  teeth,  though  if 
they  liked  they  could  inflict  a  severe  bite  with 
their  chisel-like  incisors.  The  only  time  I  have 
known  a  rabbit  bite  was  one  day  when  ferreting. 
A  rabbit  had  been  pulled  out  alive  and  unhurt, 
and  a  small  boy  asked  to  be  allov/ed  to  hold  it 
for  a  moment.  The  lad  held  it  tightly  by  the 
hind-legs,  but  for  some  unknown  reason  put  it 
over  his  shoulder,  so  that  the  rabbit's  head  was 
near  his  neck.  Suddenly,  and  without  any 
apparent  reason,  the  boy  gave  vent  to  a  piercing 
screech ;  at  the  same  moment  the  rabbit  was 
seen  racing  away  across  the  meadow.  Angry 
demands  as  to  "  what  he  was  up  to  "  elicited  the 
fact  that  the  rabbit  had  bitten  him  in  the  neck — 
the  blood  was  flowing  freely  ! 

Possibly  the  old  bucks  use  their  teeth  in 
fighting,  and  judging  by  the  way  their  ears  get 
split  they  fight  a  good  deal.  However,  in  such 
combats  as  I  have  witnessed  the  feet  only  were 
used  ;  they  waltzed  round  one  another,  each 
trying  to  spring  over  the  other  and  deal  him 
a  blow  on  the  back  or  head  with  the  strong 
powerful  hind-feet. 


THE    COMMON    RABBIT  191 

It  is  very  amusing  watching  rabbits  at  feed 
and  play,  for  they  often  play  like  kittens,  chasing 
one  another  about  and  frisking  in  sheer  delight 
to  be  alive.  Every  now  and  again  they  have 
to  stop  and  attend  to  their  toilet,  to  wipe  their 
faces  or  lick  their  paws,  which  latter  they  take 
the  greatest  care  to  keep  clean.  It  is  only 
when  a  rabbit  is  hunted  that  it  gets  its  feet  dirty. 
At  nearly  every  other  step  they  stop  and  flick 
their  pads  so  as  to  shake  off  any  drops  of  dew  or 
other  moisture.  Occasionally  one  will  sit  down 
and  stretch  a  hind-leg  out  before  it,  and  give  its 
hind-foot  a  good  dressing,  after  which  it  changes 
its  position  and  does  the  other  foot.  If  it  then 
feels  inclined  to  take  life  easily,  it  will  stretch 
itself  out  on  the  grass,  lying  in  strange  catlike 
attitudes,  with  its  white  stomach  exposed  to 
view,  until  something  disturbs  it.  Very  hkely 
it  will  be  a  buck  passing  by,  for  the  old  gentle- 
men are  very  pugnacious,  chasing  the  females 
and  driving  the  younger  rabbits.  They  give 
vent  to  their  emotions  in  little  grumbling  grunts, 
and  have  a  quaint  habit  of  rubbing  their  chins 
on  things.  The  males  can  always  be  told  from 
the  females  by  their  broader,  thicker  heads. 
The  female  has  a  much  narrower,  longer  head — 
in  fact,  a  more  feminine  one — that  of  the  buck 
being  wider  between  the  eyes,  and  his  whole 
appearance  slightly  coarser. 

The  two  sexes  inhabit  the  same  burrows 
indiscriminately,  but  whether  each  system  of 
holes  is  the  property  of  any  one  family,  or  whether 


192  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

it  is  resorted  to  by  any  and  every  passing  rabbit, 
is  a  matter  on  which  it  would  be  difficult  to 
give  an  opinion,  though  when  we  remember 
how  clannish  animals  are  the  probabilities  rest 
with  the  former.  Some  of  the  burrows  which 
have  been  used  for  years,  and  never  disturbed 
by  men  with  spades,  are  wonderful  labyrinths 
of  tunnels.  There  is  one  feature  that  a  rabbit 
burrow  hardly  ever  lacks,  and  that  is  a  bolt 
hole.  No  heap  of  soil  without  betrays  this 
exit.  It  is  made  by  driving  a  tunnel  up  close 
to  the  surface  so  as  just  to  make  an  opening  and 
no  more,  and  it  is  often  covered  with  leaves 
and  grass  so  as  to  be  invisible,  but  when  danger 
threatens,  when  escape  by  the  main  entrance 
is  impossible,  the  inhabitants  are  able  to  bolt 
from  this  outlet. 

When  a  rabbit  is  travelling  fast  its  hind-feet 
come  past  its  fore,  as  can  be  seen  well  when 
studying  the  tracks  left  in  snow.  When  merely 
hopping,  the  hind-feet  do  not  overtake  the  fore, 
but  as  the  pace  increases  and  more  ground  is 
covered  at  each  bound  it  is  evident  that  the 
rabbit  lands  with  its  hind-feet  beyond  the  fore- 
paws. 

After  a  light  snow  one  gets  some  idea  of  the 
wonderful  activity  of  the  rabbits,  for  the  woods 
and  meadows  seemed  laced  with  their  tracks, 
which  they  made  when  hopping  to  and  fro  in 
search  of  food,  of  young  trees  to  bark,  and 
other  emergency  rations  that  serve  when  the  ■ 
grass    is    buried.      In    a    severe    winter    rabbits  ■ 


THE  COMMON  RABBIT  193 

will  do  great  harm  in  coverts,  barking  the 
young  trees  as  high  as  they  can  reach,  but, 
however  bad  the  weather,  they  will  manage  to 
pull  through.  The  only  thing  that  really  does 
upset  them  is  continued  rain,  as  the  young  can- 
not stand  too  much  damp.  A  wet  spring 
invariably  reduces  the  rabbit  population  more 
than  the  efforts  of  all  the  rabbit-catchers  put 
together,  and  a  dry  one  has  a  correspondingly 
beneficial  effect. 

Taken  altogether,  the  rabbit  is  an  amazingly 
successful  animal ;  it  increases  and  flourishes  in 
great  numbers,  despite  the  quantities  we  kill 
and  the  other  animals  that  live  on  it.  It  is  found 
everywhere  from  the  sand-hills  of  the  seashore 
to  the  mountain  valley,  and,  as  said  before,  it 
is  a  feature  of  every  woodland,  for  which  latter 
reason  this  chapter  has  been  devoted  to  it. 

(The  rabbit  is  scientifically  known  as  Oryctolagus 
cuniculus,  Linn.,  and  is  divided  into  two  sub-species  : 
O.  c.  cuniculus  of  Northern  Europe  and  a  smaller 
lighter-coloured  rabbit  found  in  the  Mediterranean 
region,  which  has  been  dubbed  0.  c.  huxleyi,  Haeckel.) 


IZ 


CHAPTER    X 

BIRDS    OF    THE    NIGHT 
(THE  TAWNY   AND  LONG-EARED  OWLS) 

WHEN  night  creeps  across  the  country, 
fining  the  woodlands  with  gloom, 
so  that  the  creatures  of  the  day  retreat 
to  their  hiding  places,  the  Tawny  Owl  awakes 
to  activity.  It  fluffs  out  its  feathers,  leaves  its 
perch,  and  with  ringing  hoot  advises  the  forest 
world  that  the  time  has  come  for  the  birds  and 
beasts  of  the  night  to  leave  their  lurking  places. 
The  Brown,  Tawny,  or  Wood  Owl,  as  it  is 
variously  called,  is  a  beautiful  bird,  with  its  soft 
fluffy  plumage  delicately  pencilled  with  browns 
and  greys,  tones  that  harmonize  with  the 
markings  of  the  tree  trunks  against  which  it 
so  often  sits,  making  it  one  of  the  most  difficult 
of  birds  to  see  when  at  rest.  With  its  great 
dark  eyes,  and  the  spectacled  effect  of  its  facial 
markings,  this  owl  has  a  look  of  solemn  con- 
templation which  belies  its  real  character,  for 
it  enjoys  life  in  its  way  just  as  much  as  the  rest 
of  the  wild  world,  and  holds  nightly  revels, 
when    it    makes    the    country-side    ring    with    its 


BIRDS    OF   THE    NIGHT  195 

hooting.  When  a  Brown  Owl  hoots,  its  throat 
swells  up  until  it  is  inflated  to  the  size  of  an  egg, 
which  fact  that  great  observer  Gilbert  White 
pointed  out  many  years  ago,  saying,  "  When 
brown  owls  hoot  their  throats  swell  as  big  as  a 
hen's  egg."  ^ 

Heard  thrilhng  through  the  silence  of  the  night, 
what  an  awe-inspiring  sound  the  hoot  is,  yet 
by  day  it  is  scarcely  noticeable,  and  few  people 
seem  aware  that  owls  often  hoot  at  mid-day. 
I  have  heard  them  calhng  to  one  another  on 
a  warm  and  sunshiny  morning,  exactly  the  bright 
and  cheerful  time  when  popular  imagination 
would  say  they  were  hidden  away,  and  particu- 
larly remember  one  blazing  day  in  early  June  ; 
it  was  beside  a  little  stream,  in  which  I  was 
supposed  to  be  fishing,  but  it  was  far  too  hot 
for  a  fish  to  be  moving — indeed,  there  was  not 
a  trout  rising — and  the  only  thing  to  be  done  was 
to  sit  down  under  the  nut  bushes  and  watch 
the  may-fly  dancing  in  the  air.  There  were  few 
sounds,  save  the  babbling  of  the  brook,  to 
break  the  stillness,  when  from  somewhere  in 
the  thick  woods  rang  out  the  clear  hoot  of  an 
owl.  Three  times  the  bird  called,  when  another 
responded,  after  which  they  sank  into  silence 
again.  The  fact  is  that  the  Tawny  Owl  is  not 
so  strictly  nocturnal  as  people  imagine.  Its 
trade  of  mouse-catching  makes  the  night  its 
chief  time  of  activity,  but  it  has  no  dishke  of 
daylight ;  indeed,  it  loves  a  sun  bath,  and  I  have 

I  Letter  XV  of  the  Natural  History  of  Selborne. 


196  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

seen  one  of  these  birds  basking  blissfully  in  the 
sunshine.     Its   wings   were   spread   out,    its   head 
turned     up,     and     it     was     conscious     only     of 
the    blissful    warmth.     Of    course    the    commonly 
accepted  idea  that  owls  dread  and  shun  the  light, 
that    they    are    blinded    by    sunshine,    is    one    of 
those    popular    superstitions    with    no    foundation 
in    fact.      An    owl    sees    perfectly    well    in    the 
strongest   light,    and   is    not    handicapped   by   it. 
The    idea    has    probably    arisen    from    the    habit 
these  birds  have  of  winking  and  blinking  when 
frightened.      For     instance,    if     you     chance     to 
surprise    an    owl    at    its    roosting    place,    it    will, 
instead   of  taking  flight,   draw  itself  up,   gather- 
ing its   fluffy  feathers   round  it   until  it   is   very 
tall  and  slim,  and  then  glare  down  on  the  intruder, 
at  the  same  time  blinking  its  eyes  as  if  dazzled 
by   the   light.     This   is    merely    a   nervous   trick, 
and   when   the   same   bird   takes   flight   you   will 
note  that  it  is  well  able  to  see  where  it  is  going, 
and   that  it  threads  its   way  unerringly  through 
the   trees,   never  by   any  accident  colliding   with 
boughs  or  trunks. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to 
find  a  Brown  Owl  at  roost,  for,  as  pointed  out 
before,  its  plumage  harmonizes  most  admirably 
with  the  tree  trunk  near  which  it  sits,  and  its 
trick  of  drawing  itself  up  when  it  sees  anyone 
coming  makes  it  very  like  a  piece  of  broken  wood. 
The  Brown  Owl  invariably  roosts  close  to  the 
main  stem  of  a  tree,  and  usually  some  height 
from   the   ground,    resorting    to    the   same   perch 


BIRDS    OF   THE   NIGHT  197 

day  after  day,  and  never,  or  hardly  ever,  sitting 
in  a  hollow  tree,  such  as  the  Barn  Owl  prefers. 
The  Brown  Owl  has  a  decided  weakness  for  an 
evergreen  when  choosing  a  roosting  tree,  often 
selecting  a  spruce  or  yew,  possibly  because  such 
trees  are  more  shady,  or  maybe  because  the 
thick  greenery  ensures  privacy.  At  any  rate 
when  an  owl  has  found  a  good  perch  it  is  most 
faithful  to  it.  By  my  home  there  is  a  pine  in 
which  an  owl  always  roosts,  but  it  is  a  tall  tree, 
and  the  bird  takes  a  great  deal  of  seeing ;  indeed, 
one  would  never  find  it  if  one  did  not  know  where 
to  look. 

It  is  under  such  roosting  places  that  you  find 
evidence  of  the  owl's  midnight  doings,  for,  as 
is  the  case  with  other  birds  of  prey,  owls  throw 
up  the  undigested  and  undigestible  portions  of 
their  food  in  the  form  of  an  oval  pellet  or  casting. 
The  fur,  bones,  etc.,  of  the  creatures  they  have 
eaten  are  thus  rejected,  generally  about  twelve 
hours  after  the  last  meal,  and  falling  to  the  ground 
afford  valuable  evidence  as  to  what  these  birds 
really  live  on.  The  bones  and  fur  of  mice  pre- 
dominate, especially  those  of  the  short-tailed 
meadow  vole ;  sometimes  one  will  find  a  few 
feathers,  showing  a  little  bird  has  been  taken, 
and  there  will  often  be  a  surprising  quantity 
of  beetle  wing-cases,  the  hard  elytra  being 
rejected  undamaged,  showing  that  the  Brown 
Owl  is  not  above  eating  insects.  It  is,  indeed, 
very  fond  of  them,  and  will  also  consume  earth- 
worms, picking  them  up  off  the  turf  when  they 


198  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

come  to  the  surface  on  a  dewy  evening.  I  have 
seen  the  owls  busy  at  this  business  on  the  tennis 
lawn  on  a  moonlight  night,  besides  finding 
evidence  of  it  next  morning — i.e.  splashes  of 
*'  whitewash  "  where  they  had  sat  on  the  tennis 
poles  and  croquet  hoops. 

With  a  view  to  finding  out  what  the  Brown 
Owl  does  and  does  not  eat,  I  soaked  17  pellets 
in  warm  water,  and  carefully  examined  each 
one  as  it  dissolved.  They  yielded  the  bones  of 
2  long-tailed  mice,  i  bank  vole,  19  short- 
tailed  meadow  voles,  3  common  shrews,  3  half- 
grown  rats,  I  very  small  rabbit,  a  number  of 
beetles,  and  3  small  birds  (probably  chaffinches) 
that  could  not  be  identified  with  certainty. 
Altogether  29  rodents  and  shrews  to  3  birds.  I 
once  found  a  half-grown  water  vole  in  a  Brown 
Owl's  nest,  and  later,  in  the  same  nest,  a  young 
mistle-thrush,  but  from  the  above  it  is  plain 
that  the  Brown  Owl  is  chiefly  a  mouse-killer, 
and  that  it  does  not  often  take  feathers  ;  still, 
it  is  not  so  strictly  attached  to  fur  as  the  Barn 
Owl,  which  hardly  ever  touches  anything  but 
mice.  This  may  account  for  the  fact  that 
whereas  small  birds  hardly  ever  worry  a  White 
Owl,  they  will  mob  a  Brown  Owl  whenever  they 
get  the  opportunity.  It  is  rather  a  ludicrous 
sight  to  see  a  dignified  Tawny  Owl  being 
hustled  and  bustled  by  a  crowd  of  finches  and 
blackbirds,  all  chattering  and  scolding,  until 
the  bird  of  the  night  fairly  takes  to  its  wings 
and    seeks    refuge    in    some    thick    tree.     If    a 


4 


BIRDS    OF    THE    NIGHT  199 

mistle-thrush  is  among  the  aggressors,  the  owl 
will  have  quite  a  bad  time,  and  I  have  even 
seen  one  of  these  big,  bold  thrushes,  make  an 
owl's  feathers  fly.  A  Brown  Owl  is  not  really 
a  big  bird — indeed,  it  is  quite  a  small  one  when 
stripped  of  its  fluffy  plumage ;  it  has  a  big  head 
and  big  legs,  but  a  very  little  body.  Its  big 
feet  balance  the  weight  of  its  head  when  flying, 
which  possibly  accounts  for  the  fact  that  it  is 
one  of  the  few  birds  which  moults  all  its  tail- 
feathers  at  once,  being  for  a  short  time  without 
a  tail.  Most  birds  moult  their  tail-feathers  in 
pairs,  beginning  with  those  in  the  centre,  and 
so  are  never  altogether  tailless. 

With  its  beautifully  soft  plumage  the  Brown 
Owl  is  most  catlike,  and  perfectly  silent  in  its 
movements,  floating  by  on  muflied  wing  so  that 
it  passes  like  a  shadow.  However,  it  does  not 
hunt  on  the  wing,  but  takes  up  a  position  on 
the  branch  of  a  tree,  a  post,  or  some  convenient 
railings,  whence  it  can  watch  for  any  movement 
in  the  surrounding  undergrowth.  Then  woe  to 
any  mouse  or  vole  that  ventures  from  its  hole! 
If  only  a  blade  of  grass  stirs,  the  owl  drops 
quietly  upon  the  spot,  and  the  unsuspecting 
mouse  is  squeezed  in  a  death  grip.  The  Brown 
Owl  always  seizes  its  prey  in  its  feet,  or,  to  be 
quite  accurate,  more  usually  in  the  right  foot, 
then  flies  up  to  its  perch,  and  inspects  its  capture. 
The  victim  is  taken  delicately  by  the  head,  the 
skull  is  crushed  by  a  nip  of  the  sharp  beak;  the 
owl  ^ives  a  gulp,   the  great  part  of  the  mouse 


200  WOODLAND  CREATURES 

disappears  down  its  capacious  throat ;  another 
gulp,  and  only  the  tail  remains ;  a  third,  and 
the  mouse  vanishes  completely.  The  owl  may 
remain  in  a  contemplative  attitude  for  a  minute 
or  two,  but  it  soon  wipes  its  beak  on  the  post 
and  is  ready  for  the  next  incautious  mouse  that 
stirs  abroad. 

Gamekeepers,  with  certain  enlightened  ex- 
ceptions, make  the  great  mistake  of  destroying 
owls,  not  recognizing  that  in  the  Tawny  and 
Long-Eared  Owls  we  have  the  greatest  mouse- 
killers  of  our  woodlands.  They  allege  that  they 
destroy  young  pheasants,  the  story  being  that 
the  owls  knock  the  3^oung  birds  off  their  perches 
after  they  have  gone  up  to  roost  at  night,  and 
then  pounce  on  them  as  they  run  about  on 
the  ground.  But  not  one  of  the  men  who 
I  have  talked  to  has  ever  said  he  has  seen  it 
happen,  only  that  "  it  is  what  they  all  say." 
"  They  sa}^ "  is  not  very  convincing  evidence, 
and  against  it  I  can  give  the  case  of  the  young 
pheasants  that  were  reared  under  a  tree  wherein 
a  pair  of  Tawny  Owls  had  their  nest.  I  had  a 
score  of  pheasant  chicks  and  some  partridges 
being  foster-mothered  by  hens  in  coops,  which 
were  placed  close  to  an  old  hollow  ash  tree  in 
which  the  owls  had  four  hungry  owlets,  but  the 
owls  never  interfered  with  the  chicks,  and  the 
young  pheasants,  partridges,  and  owlets  were  all 
reared  safely. 

Of    course    an    eccentric    owl    may    do    things 
and  kill  things  that  are  unusual  for  the  species 


BIRDS    OF    THE    NIGHT  201 

as  a  whole,   for  birds   are  like   the  human   race, 
and  no  two  behave  exactly  the  same,  there  being 
as  much  individuality  among  animals   as  among 
people.      Once  in  a  way  you  may  meet  with  an 
owl   of   tastes   differing   widely    from   its   fellows, 
and  an  old  friend,   a  keen  naturalist,   knew  one 
Tawny  Owl  that  went  fishing  regularly  !     Nearly 
every    afternoon    he    saw    the    bird    sitting   on    a 
stump    by    a    stream-side    watching    the    water, 
into  which  it  would  suddenly  drop,  flying  up  again 
with  a  fish  in  its  claws.     As  further  confirmation 
of  the  fishing  propensities  of  this  species,  I  shall 
presently  tell  how  a  tame  Brown  Owl  caught  all 
the  newts  with  which  an  aquarium  was  stocked. 
To  return  to  owls  and  pheasants,   the  legends 
related    by    keepers    may    have    arisen    from    the 
fact  that  owls  often  haunt  the  covert-side  fields 
in    which    pheasant    rearing    goes    on,    for    these 
usually  abound  in  mice  and  rats  that  have  come 
to   share   the    food   intended    for   the    birds.      In 
places    where    the    Little    Owl    is    common,    ill- 
deeds   committed   by   the   smaller   bird   often   get 
laid    to    the    credit    of    the    two    bigger    species, 
for  in  all  the  foregoing  remarks  I  have  included 
the  Long-Eared  Owl,  which  is  certainly  as  innocent 
of    evil-doing    as    the    Brown.      That    the    Little 
Owl    is    a    murderous    little    wretch    there    seems 
no   doubt,   for  there  is   ample   evidence   that   fur 
and   feather  come   ahke   to  it,   that  it   hunts   by 
day   as   well   as   by   night,   and   will   attack   any- 
thing    and     everything     that     it     meets     with. 
But,   as  it  is  only  a  recent  introduction  in   this 


202  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

country  (having  been  brought  over  from 
Scandinavia  by  some  well-meaning  persons  who 
thought  it  would  be  an  addition  to  our  fauna), 
we  will  return  to  our  two  native  woodland 
birds,  which  do  Hve  chiefly  on  mice,  and  do  much 
good  by  keeping  these  mischievous  little  rodents 
within  bounds. 

Before  deaUng  further  with  the  Brown  Owl, 
it  may  be  as  well  if  I  give  some  particulars  con- 
cerning the  Long-Eared  Owl.  This  is  a  trifle 
smaller  bird  than  its  tawny  relative,  and  takes 
its  name  from  the  two  upright  tufts  of  feathers 
that  adorn  its  head.  These  are  most  noticeable 
when  the  bird  is  frightened  or  annoyed,  as  it 
then  puts  them  erect.  It  is  a  yellowish  buff 
in  colour,  beautifully  striped  and  pencilled 
with  dark  brown,  and  has  the  most  wonderful 
fierce  orange  eyes,  never  to  be  forgotten  in  their 
intensity  of  colour.  It  is  partial  to  pine  woods, 
and  a  fir  plantation  of  any  size  is  almost 
certain  to  be  tenanted  by  a  pair  of  these  owls. 
It  is  not  nearly  so  numerous  as  the  Tawny  Owl, 
yet  it  is  not  uncommon,  and  these  two  species 
certainly  are  our  two  common  woodland  owls, 
which  is  why  I  am  grouping  them  together  in 
this  chapter. 

As  usual  with  owls,  the  female  Long-Eared  is 
a  much  finer  bird  than  her  mate.  This  applies 
also  to  the  Tawny,  in  which  the  hen  is  a  head 
and  shoulders  above  her  spouse.  I  have  an  idea 
that  both  species  pair  for  life,  but  admit  that 
it   is   impossible   to   brin^   forward   any   positive 


BIRDS   OF   THE   NIGHT  203 

evidence  in  support  of  my  belief,  which  I  have 
been  told  is  merely  a  matter  of  faith  founded 
on  sentiment !  Still,  I  cling  to  my  sentimental 
idea,  for  the  different  pairs  of  Brown  Owls  that 
I  am  acquainted  with  appear  to  be  the  same 
year  after  year.  For  instance,  a  big  greyish  female 
and  a  small  red  male  have  nested  for  some 
years  in  the  before-mentioned  hollow  ash. 

The  allusion  to  the  grey  hen  and  her  red  mate 
reminds  me  to  say  that  two  forms  of  the  Tawny 
Owl  are  known,  one  of  which  is  a  much  brighter, 
redder,  brown  than  the  other.  In  the  grey 
type  all  russet  tints  are  suppressed,  and  only 
the  dull  dark  browns  and  ash-greys  remain. 
The  difference  is  independent  of  sex.  In  some 
districts  the  red  type  predominates,  in  others 
the  grey,  and  again  one  will  find  them  equally 
mixed.  It  is  a  common  thing  to  find  both  forms 
present  in  the  same  family  of  owlets,  also  to 
meet  with  pairs  of  opposite  tints,  and  it  is 
unquestionable  that  the  difference  is  in  no  sense 
a  specific  or  geographical  one,  it  does  not 
indicate  any  real  difference  in  the  individuals, 
and  apparently  it  does  not  make  any  difference 
to  a  Brown  Owl  whether  it  belongs  to  the  grey- 
brown  or  red-brown  form,  though  to  human  eye 
the  latter  is  unquestionably  the  handsomer 
variety.  My  tame  owl,  "  Old  Hooter,"  was  of 
the  red  type,  and  I  never  tired  of  admiring  the 
beautiful  tints  of  his  plumage. 

Hooter,  as  a  tiny  grey-white  owlet,  was 
taken    by   a   village   boy   from    the   nesting   hole 


204  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

in  a  hollow  oak  in  which  he  had  been  hatched, 
but  the  lad  soon  found  difficulty  in  feeding  his 
pet,  and  was  only  too  glad  to  pass  him  on  to 
me  when  I  hinted  that  I  would  take  him  over. 
I  merely  wanted  to  save  the  owlet  from  a 
miserable  existence  in  an  old  box,  intending  to 
return  him  to  the  woods  as  soon  as  he  could 
earn  his  own  living.  He  was  then  covered 
with  greyish-white  down,  through  which  a  few 
feathers  were  coming.  His  curious,  bleary-look- 
ing great  eyes,  the  red  rims  of  which  gave  them 
a  weak  appearance,  blinked  unceasingly  at 
you,  and  the  peculiar  effect  was  enhanced  by 
what  appeared  to  be  a  grey  film  passing  now  and 
again  across  one  of  them ;  for  owls  possess 
that  "  third  eyelid,"  the  nictitating  membrane, 
and  young  ones,  especially  when  frightened, 
make  much  use  of  it.  This  youngster  was 
certainly  afraid,  and  snapped  his  large  beak  in 
a  vain  attempt  at  intimidation  whenever  I  went 
near.  When  one  tried  to  touch  him  he  adopted 
the  usual  defence  of  young  birds  of  prey,  rolling 
on  his  back  and  striking  with  his  well-armed 
feet.  In  this  attitude  he  was  rather  a  ludicrous 
sight,  for  his  long  down-covered  legs  looked  as 
if  clad  in  grey  woollen  stockings  ;  but  it  was  no 
joke  when  he  did  get  a  grip,  as  his  claws  were 
long  and  sharp.  But  strong  gloves  that  defied 
his  talons,  together  with  plenty  of  patience, 
enabled  me  to  work  wonders ;  soon  Hooter 
began  to  recognize  that  I  brought  him  his  food, 
and  to  look  upon  me  as  a  friend.     It   was  not 


BIRDS    OF   THE   NIGHT  205 

long  before  he  gave  up  blinking  his  eyes  and 
snapping  his  beak  whenever  he  saw  me  coming, 
and  began  instead  to  give  the  hunger  squeak 
with  which  the  owlets  greet  their  parents. 
He  was  easy  to  feed,  as  he  could  already  hold 
and  tear  up  meat  for  himself.  On  mice, 
sparrows,  and  rabbit  flesh  he  throve  amazingly. 
It  was  most  amusing  to  see  him  deal  with  a 
mouse  ;  he  would  take  it  in  his  beak,  transfer 
it  to  his  foot,  and  look  at  it  intently  as  if  to 
see  whether  it  was  really  dead ;  then,  seeming 
doubtful  on  the  point,  would  give  its  head  a  sharp 
pinch  with  his  beak,  crushing  its  skull  so  that 
the  matter  was  placed  beyond  doubt,  after 
which  he  proceeded  to  swallow  it.  As  a  rule 
the  body  disappeared  at  one  gulp,  just  the  end 
of  its  tail  being  left  behind  hanging  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  mouth,  and  another  effort  was 
necessary  to  get  the  last  part  down.  He  would 
then  sit  quite  quiet  for  a  few  minutes,  evidently 
giving  the  mouse  time  to  get  comfortably 
disposed  in  his  crop,  but  he  was  soon  ready  for 
a  second. 

Hooter  became  very  tame,  and  by  the  time 
he  had  acquired  his  full  plumage  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  members  of  the  house- 
hold, including  the  dogs,  being  on  most  friendly 
terms  with  all ;  but  the  minute  strangers 
appeared  he  snapped  his  beak,  drew  his  feathers 
tightly  around  him,  and  glared  angrily  at  them. 
Even  among  those  he  knew  well  he  had  his 
hkes   and   disHkes,  generally  preferring  women   to 


206  WOODLAND   CREATURES 

men,  the  gardener  being  the  person  he  most 
disapproved  of,  though  why  no  one  knew. 
Whenever  the  man  appeared  Hooter  would 
draw  himself  up  and  blink  rapidly,  which  always 
meant  he  was  nervous  as  well  as  annoyed. 

The  owl  was  at  first  kept  in  an  outbuilding, 
but,  having  been  brought  into  the  house  once 
or  twice,  he  proved  to  have  such  excellent 
manners,  and  was  so  well  behaved,  that  he  was 
promoted  to  the  position  of  household  pet, 
becoming  far  more  interesting  and  intelligent 
than  any  parrot.  He  was  only  shut  up  at 
night,  in  the  bath-room,  and  during  the  day 
was  free  to  go  where  he  pleased,  which  was 
all  over  the  house.  He  usually  spent  the 
morning  resting  on  a  curtain  pole  in  the  sitting 
room,  but  in  the  afternoon  he  would  become 
very  lively,  flying  about  and  making  the  place 
ring  with  his  hoots.  When  he  came  down  from 
roost  he  always  flew  on  to  the  top  of  an  open 
door  (a  newspaper  slipped  under  this  door 
saved  all  trouble  as  regards  "  sanitation  !  ")  and 
there  sat  for  some  time,  preening  his  downy  plumage, 
and  gazing  benevolently  at  those  who  passed  in 
and  out  of  the  room.  When  spoken  to  he  would 
reply  with  the  soft  gurgling  call,  which  is  one 
of  the  cries  of  the  Brown  Owl.  He  would  often 
sit  on  my  shoulder  and  coo  softly  to  me.  When 
hungry  he  soon  let  us  all  know,  raising  the 
sharp  "  ker-wick  !  "  cry,  which  is  another  of 
the  calls  of  this  species.  But,  however  hungry 
he  was,  there  were  certain  things  he  would  not 


BIRDS    OF   THE   NIGHT  207 

eat.  One  day  a  member  of  the  family  brought 
in  a  downy  duckhng  that  had  met  with  an 
untimely  end,  and  thinking  it  would  be  a  treat 
for  Hooter,  offered  it  to  him.  He  took  the 
corpse,  held  it  in  one  foot  and  studied  it  care- 
fully, nipping  it  here  and  there  as  if  to  see  what 
it  was  made  of,  but  evidently  the  flavour  of  the 
woolly  down  did  not  appeal  to  him.  At  this 
point  I  was  called  away,  and  did  not  learn 
until  some  time  afterwards  what  had  happened. 
Hooter  evidently  carried  it  off  upstairs,  to  be 
stored  away  for  future  sampling.  I  must  explain 
that  he  always  "  lardered  "  anything  he  did  not 
want  to  eat  immediately,  but  hitherto  he  had 
never  forgotten  his  hidden  treasures,  always 
returning  to  them  and  eating  them  up.  His 
favourite  larder  was  on  the  top  of  a  tall  piece  of 
furniture  in  my  father's  dressing-room.  Well, 
the  episode  of  the  duckling  was  forgotten,  until 
some  ten  days  later  a  most  vile  smell  became 
apparent  in  this  room.  At  first  no  one  could 
think  of  what  could  be  causing  it,  then  I  remembered 
Hooter's  larder,  and  hastily  got  a  pair  of  step- 
ladders  to  look  on  the  top  of  the  wardrobe — 
as  the  housemaid  graphically  expressed  it,  "  the 
duckling  was  walking !  "  The  "  powers  that 
be  "  made  a  great  commotion  over  this  incident, 
threatening  to  there  and  then  eject  the  owl 
from  the  house,  and  he  was  only  allowed  to 
remain  on  condition  that  I  made  a  regular  and 
careful  search  of  all  his  larders. 

I  have  no  evidence  that  owls  in  a  wild  state 


208  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

store  up  spare  food,  but  think  it  is  extremely 
probable,  for  it  has  been  a  marked  trait  in  the 
character  of  all  the  captive  owls  I  have  met  with. 
Hooter  was  most  particular  over  his  toilet, 
preening  his  feathers  carefully  and  repeatedly, 
and  indulging  in  frequent  baths.  In  most 
correct  fashion  he  washed  in  the  bath-room, 
where  he  soaked  himself  nearly  every  morning 
in  a  pan  of  water,  splashing  it  far  and  wide, 
until  he  at  last  emerged  more  like  a  drowned 
rat  than  anything  else,  after  which  he  would 
go  to  the  sunniest  spot  he  could  find  and  spread 
out  his  wings  and  tail  to  dry.  He  never  bathed 
in  the  same  water  twice,  and  if  I  forgot  to 
change  it,  went  without  a  bath  until  I  remembered. 
How  fond  owls  are  of  washing  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  I  have  caught  wild  owls,  both  the  Brown 
and  the  Barn,  in  the  act.  One  of  the  former 
was  surprised  bathing  in  a  little  stream.  The 
noise  of  the  brook,  rushing  over  its  rocky  bed, 
drowned  my  footsteps  on  the  fallen  leaves,  green 
moss,  and  little  crackling  twigs.  The  afternoon 
was  advancing,  and  the  sinking  autumn  sun  shot 
long  streamers  of  light  through  the  partly  denuded 
trees,  and  gilded  with  gold  a  great  boulder  that 
lay  in  my  path.  As  I  rounded  it,  stepping 
carefully  to  avoid  slipping  on  the  moss  and 
liverwort-grown  stones,  a  brown  form  rose  from 
the  shallow  rippling  water  but  three  yards 
off — it  was  a  Tawny  Owl  taking  a  bath,  and 
as  it  fled  away  it  scattered  glittering  drops  of 
water    behind    it,    showering    them    on    the   rank 


m 


BIRDS    OF    THE    NIGHT  209 

willow  herb  and  burdock  leaves  at  the  stream- 
side,  where  they  sparkled  like  gems  in  the 
sunlight. 

To  return  to  Hooter,  after  the  episode  of  the 
duckHng  all  went  well  with  him  for  twelve 
months  or  more.  He  continued  on  intimate  terms 
with  all  the  family.  He  occasionally  got  into 
scrapes,  such  as  finding  a  way  from  the  attics 
into  the  space  between  the  roofs,  wherein  he 
could  :be  heard  pattering  about,  but  from 
which  he  would  not  descend.  A  dusty  trap- 
door had  at  length  to  be  prized  open,  when, 
tempted  by  the  offer  of  a  mouse,  he  flew  down 
to  me.  He  several  times  flew  out  into  the 
garden,  but  returned  through  an  open  window — 
in  fact,  he  appeared  to  have  no  inclination  to 
go  away ;  but  the  time  came  when  he  had  to 
be  exiled  to  an  outbuilding.  The  trouble  began 
through  a  housemaid  taking  a  brush  and 
sweeping  Hooter  off  his  roosting  place  one  morn- 
ing, when  she  wanted  to  turn  out  the  sitting- 
room — from  that  time  forward  he  bore  all 
women  who  wore  white  caps  a  fixed  grudge.  He 
would  wait  on  the  tops  of  doors  until  he  saw 
a  maid  coming,  and  then  drop  silently  on  to  her 
head,  when,  having  given  her  a  great  fright,  he 
would  fly  hooting  away.  Soon  all  the  servants 
were  in  terror  of  the  bird  ;  not  that  he  hurt  them, 
but  his  sudden  and  quite  unexpected  descent 
was  so  startling !  The  climax  came  when  he 
mistook  my  father's  bald  head  for  a  white  cap 
coming  !     That  finished  it,  he  had  to  go,   and  I 

14 


210  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

dared  not  give  him  his  Hberty  for  fear  he  should 
fl}'^  at  persons  out  of  doors. 

Just  at  this  time  I  was  offered  a  female  Tawny 
Owl,  so  accepted  her  to  keep  Hooter  company. 
He  did  not  seem  much  attracted  by  her,  often 
flying  at  her  and  knocking  her  head  over  heels  ; 
however,  she  bore  his  ill-treatment  meekly— 
she  was  considerably  bigger  than  he — and 
eventually  they  settled  down.  As  spring 
approached  it  became  evident  that  Hooter  was 
behaving  very  differently,  and  soon  it  was  obvious 
that  they  had  mated.  A  nesting  box  gave  them 
great  satisfaction,  and  he  spent  half  his  time 
jumping  in  and  out  of  it.  When  I  went  into 
the  place  he  would  hop  on  to  my  shoulder, 
gurgle  down  my  ear,  jump  into  the  box  and  turn 
round  and  round  therein,  cooing  all  the  time, 
and  when  his  mate  actually  laid  an  egg  his 
excitement  knew  no  bounds.  Alas  !  the  eggs  were 
soon  broken  and  the  attempt  at  nesting  came 
to  nothing.  The  following  year  I  obtained  a 
couple  of  eggs  from  a  nest  in  the  wood,  and 
gave  them  to  the  tame  pair  in  place  of  their 
own,  as  I  thought  the  latter  were  probably  thin 
shelled.  With  the  wild  eggs  they  had  better 
luck,  and  succeeded  in  hatching  one.  The  parents 
lavished  the  greatest  care  on  the  owlet ;  indeed, 
Hooter  had  been  most  attentive  to  his  mate 
the  whole  time  she  was  sitting,  carrying  food 
to  her  and  driving  off  all  unwelcome  intruders. 
The  young  owl  flourished  exceedingly  and  grew 
at   a   great   pace,   so   that   by   early   summer   he 


BIRDS    OF    THE    NIGHT  211 

was  full  fledged  and  able  to  earn  his  own  living, 
when  I  let  him  loose  into  the  surrounding  trees. 
Here  he  remained  for  some  time,  returning  each 
evening  to  the  owl's  house  for  food,  but  at 
last  he  began  to  hunt  for  himself.  "  The 
Owlet "  subsequently  found  a  mate,  and  for 
many  seasons  this  pair  have  nested  in  a  hollow 
tree  near  the  house. 

Hooter  flourished  for  ten  years,  and  up  to 
the  day  of  his  death  looked  as  well  as  ever,  but 
fate  overtook  him  in  the  shape  of  a  fox-terrier. 
Apparently  the  dog,  which  was  a  mischievous 
little  demon,  had  been  jumping  up  the  wire 
netting  of  the  owl's  enclosure  in  an  effort  to  get 
at  Old  Hooter  sitting  on  his  perch  inside. 
Evidently  the  owl  became  annoyed,  and  flew 
at  the  dog,  which  grabbed  him  and  pulled  him 
through  the  fencing.  The  terrier  went  off  the 
premises  next  day 

Before  turning  from  Hooter  to  his  wild  relatives, 
I  must  mention  an  incident  of  which  he  was  the 
hero,  namely  the  disappearance  of  a  number  of 
newts  from  an  aquarium.  The  newts  had  been 
getting  mysteriously  less,  and  it  had  been  a 
puzzle  how  they  had  got  out  of  the  tank,  when 
one  morning  I  saw  the  owl  sitting  on  the  back 
of  a  chair  and  gazing  into  the  aquarium.  I 
waited  and  watched.  In  a  few  moments  one 
of  the  newts,  which  had  been  lying  quietly  on 
the  gravel  at  the  bottom  of  the  tank,  gave  a  flip 
of  its  tail  and  began  to  rise  to  the  top  of  the 
water  for  air.     It  was  a  beautiful  little  male  of 


212  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

the  common  smaller  species,  and  as  it  rose  it 
exposed  its  orange  and  black  spotted  stomach, 
while  the  crest  along  its  back  and  tail  waved 
elegantly.  The  owl  bent  his  head  lower  and 
lower,  then  moved  it  round  in  circles  as  if  focusing 
his  eyes,  and  at  the  moment  when  the  newt 
reached  the  surface  of  the  water  he  dropped, 
with  his  right  foot  extended,  and  neatly  picked 
his  victim  from  the  water,  whence  he  bore  it 
to  the  back  of  the  chair.  Having  gravely 
inspected  it,  and  put  back  the  whiskerlike 
feathers  round  his  beak,  he  nipped  its  head  so 
as  to  still  its  wrigglings,  and  with  a  gulp 
swallowed  it. 

Many  experiments  were  tried  with  this  owl 
to  see  what  he  would  and  would  not  eat. 
Beetles  he  was  fond  of,  and  he  would  take  most 
dark-coloured  insects,  but  conspicuously  coloured 
ones  were  usually  refused  after  being  once 
sampled,  while  after  tasting  a  "  woolly  bear " 
he  spent  ten  minutes  cleaning  his  beak  and  hence- 
forward refused  all  hairy  caterpillars.  One  day 
he  tried  a  toad,  but  again  his  beak  required  a 
great  deal  of  wiping  and  he  never  touched  another. 

The  way  owls  hunt  their  prey  demands  a  keen 
sense  of  hearing  as  well  as  of  sight,  but  it  is  a 
curious  fact  that,  though  both  their  ears  are  very 
large,  the  one  on  one  side  of  the  head  is  often 
larger  than  that  on  the  other. 

The  hoot  of  the  Tawny  Owl  seems  to  be  both 
a  call  and  a  challenge,  and  the  time  to  hear  the 
nightly  concert   at  its  best  is  in   November  and 


G 

^ 

K 

_£ 

Pi 

O 

C   ^ 

c  •— 

tx 

o 

c  ^ 

g 

'>,  ^ 

H 

!=  ~ 

H 

t/3     1- 

W 

5^   c 

"rt  ,— 

Ji    rt 


H 

5   ?: 

^ 

iJ  a 

^ 

■^  C 

u; 

J5  £ 

H 

O 

Q' 

<5 

K 

K 

ci  — 

h^] 

S 

C    c 

< 

O 

"c-S" 

« 

X 

C    !> 

H 

^  -C 

BIRDS    OF    THE    NIGHT  213 

December,  when  the  country-side  rings  with 
hooting.  Go  out  any  quiet  evening  and  you  will 
hear  the  challenges  ringing  on  all  sides.  From 
the  dim  mysterious  woods,  from  the  trees  that 
loom  darkly  against  the  sky,  comes  first  one 
call  and  then  another,  echoing  to  and  fro, 
flung  back  by  hill  and  dingle,  until  it  seems  as 
if  the  night  is  alive  with  owls.  How  loud  and 
piercing  the  hooting  seems  when  other  sounds 
are  hushed.  Unheard,  an  owl  flies  up,  perches 
in  the  tree  overhead.  The  "  Hoo-oo-ooo !  " 
rings  out  unexpectedly  close  at  hand,  so  that 
even  the  stoutest  nerves  are  thrilled  and 
startled.  "  Ker-wick !  ker-wick  !  "  replies  an- 
other, "  Hoo-oo-hoo-oo  !  "  answers  back  the  first, 
and  so  it  goes  on  far  into  the  night,  perhaps 
until  dawn  comes  and  sends  the  excited  birds 
home  to  roost. 

It  is  the  grave  matter  of  pairing  which  is  the 
cause  of  all  the  trouble  and  excitement,  for  the 
Tawny  Owl  breeds  so  early  in  the  year  that  it 
has  to  begin  mating,  and  settling  the  hunting 
grounds  of  the  different  pairs,  well  before  Christ- 
mas. It  is  then  that  the  young  birds  of  the 
previous  season  are  driven  from  their  parents' 
territory,  when  the  old  birds  too  have  to  hold 
their  ground  against  homeless  young  couples  in 
search  of  suitable  nesting  places.  In  any  given 
area  the  number  of  hollow  trees  is  limited.  The 
best  ones  are  already  tenanted,  being  occupied 
year  after  year  by  apparently  the  same  individuals, 
but    each    spring    these    pairs   launch    families    of 


214  WOODLAND   CREATURES 

four  or  five  owlets  respectively  into  the  world, 
with  the  result  there  is  often  a  sad  dearth  of 
housing  accommodation.  Of  course  some  of 
the  young  owls  meet  with  disaster,  some  of  the 
old  ones  likewise  come  to  grief,  but  still  the 
Tawny  Owl  population  remains  in  excess  of  the 
available  nesting  places,  and  many  pairs  do  not 
succeed  in  breeding.  For  one  thing,  the  Brown 
Owl  is  a  conservative  bird :  if  it  cannot  get  the 
hollow  in  a  tree  which  is  the  proper  nesting  place 
of  its  species,  it  seldom  turns  to  any  other  site. 
I  have  met  with  but  two  exceptions.  The  first 
case  was  that  of  a  pair  which  made  use  of  an  old 
and  flattened  squirrel's  nest,  laying  their  round 
white  eggs  on  the  top  of  it.  The  very  shape 
of  the  eggs  hastened  disaster;  they  soon  rolled 
off,  fell  to  the  ground  and  were  broken.  The 
second  case  was  that  of  a  couple  of  owls  which 
nested  in  a  disused  magpie's  nest  situated  in 
an  old  and  high  thorn  fence.  In  this  airy  cradle 
the  young  were  reared  with  complete  success 
and   got  safely  away. 

The  Long-Eared  Owl  prefers  an  open  situation 
in  which  to  rear  its  young,  never  making  use 
of  a  hollow  in  a  tree,  but  generally  choosing  the 
top  of  an  old  squirrel  drey,  a  deserted  hawk's 
nest,  or  some  similar  platform,  on  which  to  lay 
its  five  or  six  white  eggs.  One  family  that  I 
found,  was  domiciled  in  what  had  been  a  sparrow 
hawk's  nest,  near  the  top  of  a  tall  old  Scotch 
pine.  The  old  fir  had  seen  many  a  year  pass 
by,  its  long  red  trunk  went  straight  up  bare  of 


BIRDS    OF    THE    NIGHT  215 

branches  high  into  the  air,  its  lower  boughs  had 
been  broken  by  wind,  storm,  and  heavy  snows, 
but  the  topmost  ones  were  yet  untouched  and 
waved  their  grey-green  needles  gaily  against  the 
blue  sky.  Below,  its  roots  penetrated  far  into  the 
soil,  though  constant  winds  and  rain  had  bared 
the  uppermost,  so  that  they  ran  like  red  fingers 
until  lost  among  the  ferns  and  moss.  But  it  was 
not  the  tree,  it  was  a  platform  of  sticks  and  twigs 
high  up  in  its  boughs,  that  attracted  my  atten- 
tion, over  the  edge  of  which  three  weird,  little, 
round  white  faces  were  peering  down  at  me. 
They  looked  like  little  old  elfen  women  with 
shawls  round  their  heads.  They  were  young 
Long-Eared  Owls,  and  were  just  at  that  age  when 
owlets  begin  to  scramble  to  the  edge  of  the  nest 
and  look  down  upon  the  world.  In  another  two 
or  three  days  they  would  be  strong  enough  to 
get  out  on  to  the  branches  near  at  hand,  though 
not  yet  able  to  fly,  at  which  stage  the  sight  of 
anything  strange  makes  them  freeze  into  motion- 
less excrescences  of  the  bark,  when  they  are 
easily  overlooked.  The  perching  stage,  during 
which  they  squeak  plaintively  to  their  parents 
to  bring  them  food,  passes  rapidly  into  that 
when  they  are  strong  on  the  wing,  and  able  to 
follow  the  old  birds  about. 

Failing  an  old  hawk's  nest,  or  some  such  site 
up  a  tree,  the  Long-Eared  Owl  will  descend  to 
the  ground,  and  it  is  not  unusual  to  find  it 
nesting  under  a  bush,  or  beneath  no  more 
shelter   than   that   afforded   by   a   tuft   of   grass. 


216  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

Nests  in  such  situations  should  not  be  confused 
with  those  of  the  Short-Eared  Owl,  a  distinct 
species,  that  always  lays  its  eggs  in  such  a  spot. 
As  the  latter  is  more  or  less  a  moorland  bird,  it 
will  not  be  further  alluded  to  here,  except  to 
say  that  the  greater  length  of  the  ear  tufts  in 
the  Long-Eared  at  once  serve  to  distinguish 
them.  In  the  Short-Eared  they  are  quite  short, 
as  the  name  indicates. 

The  Long-Eared  Owl,  though  not  really  a 
migratory  species,  any  more  than  the  Tawny, 
will  at  times  shift  its  hunting  grounds.  For 
instance,  if  there  is  an  especial  abundance  of  mice 
in  any  particular  locality  Long-Eared  Owls  are 
sure  to  turn  up  in  numbers,  and  this  has  been 
several  times  noted  as  a  feature  of  the  "  vole 
plagues  "  that  have  now  and  again  occurred  in 
different  parts  of  the  country.  As  the  plague 
decreases  the  owls  vanish,  no  doubt  returning  to 
their  homes. 

The  Long-Eared  Owl  does  not  begin  nesting 
quite  so  early  in  the  season  as  the  Brown  Owl, 
which  latter  is  one  of  the  first  of  the  woodland 
birds  to  lay  and  to  sit.  In  March,  when  the 
dipper  is  just  giving  the  finishing  touches  to  her 
mossy  nest  by  the  waterfall  in  the  stream,  the 
Brown  Owl  begins  incubation.  In  her  unlined, 
untouched  hole,  with  nothing  but  the  wood  chips 
for  it  to  rest  upon,  she  lays  her  first  egg,  and 
immediately  begins  to  sit.  The  Long-Eared  also 
begins  incubation  with  her  first  egg,  so  that  it 
has  a  considerable  advantage  over   the   next  egg 


BIRDS    OF   THE   NIGHT  217 

and  a  still  greater  over  the  succeeding  ones. 
The  eldest  chick  will  hatch  a  week  or  ten  days 
before  the  youngest,  with  the  result  that  the 
owlets  differ  enormously  in  size  and  develop- 
ment. When  the  last  hatched  is  a  male,  and 
therefore  very  small  (in  birds  of  prey  the 
male  is  the  inferior  sex),  he  has  very  poor 
prospect  indeed.  He  is  trampled  underfoot,  his 
larger  and  stronger  sisters  seize  most  of  the 
food,  and  his  fate  is  generally  an  early  and 
mysterious  disappearance.  While  quite  young 
the  owlets  are  clad  in  pure  white  down,  but  as 
they  get  bigger  this  gives  place,  in  the  case  of 
the  Brown  Owl,  to  a  speckly  grey  covering, 
through  which  the  feathers  presently  make  their 
way.  The  Tawny  Owl,  especially  the  hen,  is 
often  most  courageous  in  defence  of  her  young, 
and  I  have  been  attacked  by  her  when  too  near 
the  nest.  I  was  once  stooping  over  a  hole  in 
an  apple  tree,  at  the  bottom  of  which  were  four 
nearly  full-fledged  young  owls,  when  something 
gave  me  a  startling  blow  in  the  middle  of  the 
back.  It  was  merely  the  old  bird  resenting  my 
inquisitiveness  ! 

About  the  end  of  May  the  youngsters  get  out 
into  the  trees,  when  in  the  evenings  one  may 
hear  their  shrill  and  piteous  squeaks,  to  which 
the  parents  reply  with  the  *'  ker-wick  "  cry,  and 
a  hoot  now  and  again.  To  me  it  is  one  of  the 
pleasures  of  a  summer  night  to  hear  the  young 
and  old  owls  calling,  and  to  know  that  the  various 
families  have  got  off  safely,  for  not  only  is  the 


218  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

Brown  Owl  one  of  the  most  fascinating  of  birds, 
but  it  is  also  one  of  the  most  beneficial  of  all 
our  woodland  creatures.  To  it,  the  kestrel, 
and  the  Barn  Owl  do  we  owe  it  that  the  ever- 
multiplying  mice  are  kept  within  reasonable 
bounds. 

[The  British  Tawny  Owl  is  ranked  by  Witherby 
in  his  Handbook  as  a  sub-species,  Strix  aluco 
sylvatica,  Shaw,  of  the  widely  distributed  Strix 
aluco,  Linn.,  which  ranges  through  Europe.  The 
British  race  is  smaller  than  the  Continental. 

The  Long-Eared  Owl,  Asio  otus,  Linn.,  is  found 
throughout  the  Continent  and  North  Asia,  also  North- 
West  Africa,  but  is  subject  to  practically  no  variation 
in  the  British  Isles  or  the  rest  of  Europe,  so  the 
question  of  sub-species  need  not  be  discussed  here.) 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE    SQUIRREL 

OF  all  the  beautiful  creatures  which  we 
find  in  our  woodlands  there  is  not  one 
more  lovely  than  the  squirrel.  It  is 
an  exquisite  sight  perched  aloft  at  the  end  of 
the  swaying  bough  of  some  tall  tree :  clothed 
in  reddish-gold,  with  its  bushy  tail  curled  over 
its  back,  and  rocking  gently  to  and  fro  in  the 
breeze,  it  seems  the  embodiment  of  grace, 
beauty,  and  wild  life.  IntelHgence,  too,  gleams 
from  its  beady  dark  eyes,  as  it  gazes  down  from 
its  stronghold,  the  tree-tops,  where  it  reigns 
supreme,  unmolested  by  other  animals  and  birds, 
and  safe  from  the  reach  of  all  creatures  save 
man  with  his  gun. 

Its  agility,  its  extraordinary  leaps  and  bounds, 
the  graceful  ease  with  which  it  makes  its  way 
through  the  tree-top  world,  and  its  quickness 
to  note  the  approach  of  danger  when  it  does 
venture  down  to  the  ground,  all  help  to  render 
it  safe  from  attack  by  any  of  the  creatures  which 
at  present  roam  our  woods.  In  days  gone  by, 
when   the   wild   cat    and   the   pine   marten   were 

219 


220  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

yet  common — instead  of  being  nearly  exterminated 
— and  the  bigger  birds  of  prey  were  plentiful,  it 
had  formidable  foes  to  contend  with.  The  marten 
in  particular  must  have  taken  heavy  toll,  for 
it  was  a  tree  dweller  like  the  squirrel,  and 
nearly  as  wonderful  a  climber,  combining 
marvellous  activity  with  the  persistence  and 
blood-thirstiness  of  the  weasel  tribe. 

It  has  been  suggested  by  Professor  Poulton ' 
that  it  was  to  such  foes  the  squirrel  owes  its 
beautiful  feathery  tail.  The  argument  is  that 
this  organ,  being  the  most  conspicuous  part, 
would  be  the  first  portion  to  catch  the  eye  of 
an  enemy,  but  if  the  squirrel  was  seized  by  it, 
it  would  be  able  to  wriggle  away  unharmed, 
leaving  only  a  wisp  or  two  of  fur  in  its  enemy's 
claws.  So  in  each  generation  the  squirrels  with 
the  finest  tails  would  be  preserved.  With  all 
deference  to  the  authority  in  question  I  cannot 
but  think  the  theory  far-fetched.  Why  is  it 
that  the  marten  likewise  has  a  thick  bushy  tail, 
which,  like  that  of  the  squirrel,  is  somewhat 
flattened  in  shape  ?  I  incline  far  more  to  the 
theory  that  a  broad  bushy  tail  is  an  assistance 
to  creatures  leading  an  arboreal  life,  enabling 
them  to  balance  easily  as  they  run  along  the 
slenderest  twigs,  and  aiding  them  as  they  leap  from 
bough  to  bough.  It  is  certainly  significant  that 
many  tree-haunting  animals  have  fine  large  tails. 

A  curious  thing  about  the  squirrel  is,  that 
though    it    has    few    or    no    natural    foes   in    this 

»  Professor  Poulton  in  Essays  on  Evolution,  p.  325. 


THE    SQUIRREL  221 

country  at  the  present  day,  it  shows  no  tendency 
to  increase,  and  in  many  parts  of  the  country 
is  decidedly  decreasing,  especially  in  the  Midlands. 
There  is  a  certain  wood  where  four  years  ago 
it  was  the  usual  thing  to  see  half  a  dozen  in  the 
course  of  a  walk.  They  peeped  at  one  from 
behind  trees ;  vanished,  to  appear  higher  up 
the  trunks ;  or  sat  on  the  boughs  overhead, 
and  chattered  vigorously  as  if  abusing  the  invader 
of  their  domain.  They  were  to  be  seen,  like 
living  beams  of  golden  light,  springing  from  branch 
to  branch,  and  taking  fl3ang  leaps  from  tree  to  tree ; 
in  short,  squirrels  were  everywhere  and  their 
"  dreys  "  one  of  the  commonest  sights  in  the  trees. 
Now,  in  that  same  covert,  it  is  quite  an  event 
to  see  a  red  head  peeping  at  one,  and  there  are 
very  few  nests  in  the  trees.  If  there  is  more  than 
one  pair  in  the  wood,  they  have  not  been  very 
active  in  the  matter  of  nest  making.  The  cause 
or  causes  of  their  diminished  numbers  has  often 
puzzled  me,  but  I  suspect  that  the  squirrel  is 
subject  to  some  sort  of  epidemic  disease.  It 
will  disappear  from  a  given  locality  for  a  time, 
and  then  gradually  return,  only  in  a  few  years' 
time  to  become  scarce  again ;  in  fact,  their 
numbers  appear  to  wax  and  wane,  and  it  is 
possible  that  the  general  decrease  of  squirrels 
that  I  spoke  of  just  now  is  attributable  to  some 
such  cause.  If  so,  we  may  hope  to  see  them 
more  plentiful  than  ever  in  a  little  while. ^ 

»  Since  this  was  written  squirrels  have  become  plentiful  again 
in  this  particular  wood. 


222  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

An  allusion  was  made  a  little  way  back  to  the 
squirrel's  nest.  Country  folk  often  call  the 
ordinary  living  nest  the  "  buck's  drey,"  but, 
except  when  rearing  young  ones,  the  female 
makes  a  similar  nest  to  the  male.  The  "  dreys  " 
are  well-made  comfortable  dwellings,  and  are 
generally  placed  in  the  fork  of  a  tree  or  else  on 
a  stout  branch.  They  are  of  considerable  bulk, 
and  must  represent  a  good  deal  of  labour.  One 
that  I  pulled  to  pieces  was  made  of  nut  sticks 
and  birch  twigs,  the  walls  of  the  nest  were  of 
leaves  and  moss,  and  the  lining  was  of  finely 
shredded  birch  bark,  which  made  a  very  cosy 
and  comfortable  bed.  Entrance  was  effected  by 
means  of  a  small  hole  at  the  side,  I  have 
examined  others  which  were  lined  with  dry  grass 
and  moss,  but  bark  is  a  favourite  substance. 
No  particular  care  seems  to  be  taken  to  conceal 
the  dreys  used  for  living  and  sleeping  in,  and 
they  are  often  in  conspicuous  situations,  but 
the  breeding  nest  is  a  different  matter.  It  is 
generally  placed  in  a  thick  evergreen  tree,  such 
as  a  spruce,  a  yew,  or  a  holly.  The  preference 
for  evergreens  is  probably  due  to  the  female 
beginning  to  get  her  nursery  ready  before  the 
other  trees  are  in  full  leaf.  Well  built  as  the 
ordinary  drey  is,  the  breeding  nest  is  even  better, 
being  made  with  extra  thick  walls  of  moss  and 
grass,  and  beautifully  lined  with  shredded  grass 
and  birch  bark.  This  lining,  one  regrets  to  add, 
is  usually  the  home  of  a  large  assortment  of 
parasites,  especially  fleas,  for  the  dainty  exquisite 


THE    SQUIRREL  223 

squirrel  is  not  particular  as  regards  "  company  "  ! 
For  this  reason  it  is  never  wise  to  put  your  hand 
into  a  squirrel's  nest ;  besides  which  the  young 
squirrels,  if  at  home,  may  resent  it.  They  grow 
quickly  and  soon  develop  into  miniature 
editions  of  their  parents,  including  teeth,  which 
they  will  use  with  quite  good  effect  !  As  an 
instance  of  this  I  must  tell  the  story  of  a  little 
squirrel  that  came  into  my  hands.  It  was  one 
of  a  family  that  had  been  reared  in  a  nest  in  a 
fir  tree,  which  tree  was  to  be  cut  down  with  the 
rest  of  the  wood  in  which  it  grew.  A  boy,  who 
was  watching  the  timber-felling,  noticed  the  drey, 
and  immediately  swarmed  up  the  tree,  put  his 
hand  into  the  nest,  and  pulled  it  out  quicker  than 
he  put  it  in— something  had  given  him  a  sharp 
nip  !  Next  second  "  a  whole  swarm  of  squirrels 
tumbled  out."  He  managed  to  scramble  down 
quick  enough  to  catch  one  of  the  young  ones  which 
had  fallen  to  the  ground,  and  that  evening 
brought  it  to  me.  The  rest  had  vanished  among 
the  fallen  timber.  The  one  he  brought  to  me 
was  about  six  inches  long,  head,  body,  and  tail 
included.  It  could  see  well  and  was  surprisingly 
active  for  its  size.  As  one  of  the  stable  cats  had 
a  large  family  of  kittens,  I  took  the  little  thing 
to  her,  in  the  hope  she  would  adopt  it.  She 
took  little  notice  of  it  when  it  was  put  among 
the  kittens,  but  the  young  squirrel  was  not  ready 
to  accommodate  itself  to  such  strange  surround- 
ings. It  several  times  crawled  off  into  the  hay 
in  which  the  cat  had  made  her  nest,  but  after 


224  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

a  time  it  seemed  to  settle  down,  and,  as  puss 
was  so  good  natured,  there  seemed  hope  that 
all  would  be  well.  Unfortunately  I  had  for- 
gotten that  a  workman  had  had  instructions 
to  destroy  some  of  the  kittens.  Half  an  hour 
later,  when  returning  to  see  how  things  were 
getting  on,  I  was  startled  to  hear  heated  language 
coming  from  the  loft,  where  the  cat's  family 
was.  Rushing  up,  I  found  the  man  on  his  knees 
with  the  kittens  before  him,  and  one  of  his 
fingers  was  bleeding  quite  fast.  He  had  picked 
a  kitten  up,  and  a  rat,  that  had  been  lying  in 
the  hay,  had  sprung  out  and  bitten  him,  he 
said.  Without  wasting  time  in  explanations  I 
began  to  look  for  the  squirrel,  which  was  at  last 
found  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  pile  of  hay,  into 
which  it  had  scrambled  when  so  rudely  disturbed. 
Even  then  the  workman  would  hardly  believe 
that  it  was  merely  a  very  small  squirrel  which 
had  given  him  such  a  sharp  nip.  After  this  dis- 
turbance it  was  not  surprising  that  neither  cat 
nor  squirrel  would  have  anything  to  do  with 
each   other. 

Young  squirrels  are  born  early  in  the  summer, 
in  May  or  June,  the  litters  numbering  from 
three  to  six.  The  mother  is  most  attentive  to 
them,  and  not  only  builds  an  elaborate  nursery 
for  them,  but,  if  the  first  nest  fails  to  please  her, 
will  make  a  second,  and  move  them  to  it.  If 
too  many  people  come  by,  or  if  the  nest  gets 
too  verminous  for  comfort,  she  soon  makes 
another    and    has    a   removal.      I    once   had    the 


THE    SQUIRREL  225 

good  fortune  to  see  an  old  squirrel  moving  her 
young  ones.  It  was  a  fine  morning  in  May,  and 
I  was  watching,  from  a  window,  a  hen  black- 
bird collecting  worms  for  her  nestlings,  which 
I  knew  were  in  the  shrubbery,  when,  as  she  flew 
off  with  her  load,  my  eye  was  caught  by  move- 
ment in  a  tall  spruce  that  grew  close  to  the  house. 
Something  had  moved  among  the  dark  boughs, 
but  whatever  it  was  ceased  as  I  looked.  All 
that  was  to  be  seen  was  the  tall,  dark  tree, 
dotted  with  tender  young  green  shoots,  and  the 
topmost  boughs  with  brown  cones.  The  morning 
light  caught  the  delicate  green  of  the  young  shoots, 
and  made  them  stand  out  clearly  from  the 
heavy  green  of  the  old  foliage,  but,  as  far  as  any 
living  object  was  concerned,  the  tree  seemed 
quite  deserted.  Not  even  a  sparrow  moved 
among  the  branches,  though  it  was  the  home 
of  a  goodly  number,  and  several  pairs  had  shortly 
before  been  carrying  up  building  material  into 
the  thick  boughs  at  the  top.  Certainly  I  had 
not  seen  them  at  work  for  the  past  week,  but 
from  the  ground  it  looked  as  if  the  nests  were 
finished,  as  several  dark  masses  could  be  dimly 
made  out.  So  I  watched  to  see  if  they  were 
again  at  work,  and,  if  not,  what  it  was  that  had 
moved. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  red-brown  cones  at  the 
very  top  of  the  tree  moved  slightly  ;  looking  at 
it,  with  eyes  focused  upon  it,  it  took  shape  and 
form,  and  became  a  squirrel ! 

The  drifting  grey  clouds  parted,  reveahng  blue 

15 


226  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

sky,  and  the  sun  shone  and  caught  the  squirrel's 
red  coat  until  it  shone  like  living  gold,  and  the 
wind  swayed  the  tree-top  and  rocked  it  to  and 
fro.  Backwards  and  forwards  the  squirrel  swung, 
quite  unconcerned;  the  dizzy  depths  below  it 
did  not  disturb  its  nerves,  it  nibbled  away  at 
something  it  held  in  its  paws,  while  the  wind 
played  rude  pranks  with  its  tail  that  was  curved 
over  its  back.  Then  it  stopped  eating,  looked 
down  from  its  lofty  perch,  dropped  suddenly 
to  the  bough  below  it,  caught  at  the  next 
swaying  one,  then  sprang  outwards  and  down- 
wards to  another  swinging  up  and  down  many 
yards  below,  and  I,  looking  on,  held  my  breath, 
for  it  seemed  as  if  it  must  be  hurled  to  the  ground ; 
but  no,  it  caught  the  branch,  swung  for  a  second, 
then  dived  into  the  dark  interior  of  the  tree  and 
disappeared. 

I  remembered,  when  it  had  vanished,  that 
I  had  twice  seen  a  squirrel  in  the  plantation 
— though  this  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen 
it  in  the  big  fir — and  I  wondered  if  its  presence 
round  the  house  had  anything  to  do  with  the 
sparrows  having  deserted  their  stronghold. 
The  squirrel  is  by  no  means  above  eating  birds' 
eggs,  or  even  young  birds.  Meantime  I  waited 
and  watched ;  in  a  few  moments  there  was  a 
movement  lower  down — something  was  descend- 
ing the  trunk,  but  it  was  not  going  as  fast  as  a 
squirrel  usually  does ;  however,  it  was  the 
squirrel,  for  where  the  branches  thinned  it  came 
into  plain  view.     In  a  second  or  two  it  jumped 


I 

I 


THE    SQUIRREL  227 

down  to  the  ground,  when  the  reason  for  its 
cautious  movements  was  obvious — it  carried 
something  in  its  mouth.  The  squirrel  looked 
this  way  and  that,  evidently  to  see  if  the 
"  coast  was  clear,"  and  then  ran  across  the 
lawn,  passing  close  beneath  the  window,  when  it 
was  apparent  that  the  burden  was  a  young  one. 
It  was  a  mother  moving  her  family  to  a  new  nest. 
The  squirrel  raced  across  the  grass  so  quickly 
it  was  difficult  to  see  exactly  how  she  carried  the 
little  one,  but  I  think  she  held  it  as  animals 
generally  hold  their  young,  namely  by  the 
"  scruff  of  the  neck."  At  any  rate  she  carried 
it  in  her  mouth  with  its  little  red  tail  curled 
over  her  neck.  She  disappeared  into  the  plan- 
tation on  the  farther  side  of  the  lawn,  but  I 
remained  at  my  post  and  waited  to  see  if  she 
came  back.  In  a  few  minutes  she  returned, 
having  left  her  load  behind  her,  bounded  across 
the  grass,  and  ran  up  the  fir  tree.  It  is  note- 
worthy that  a  squirrel  in  a  hurry  does  not  run, 
but  proceeds  by  leaps,  and  even  when  carrying 
her  baby  this  squirrel  leapt  along  in  the  usual 
fashion.  She  had  not  been  long  up  the  spruce 
before  she  came  down  again  with  another 
youngster,  and  the  previous  performance  was 
repeated,  the  little  squirrel  being  carried  across 
in  the  same  hurried  way.  A  third  visit  was  paid 
to  the  fir  tree,  and  yet  a  third  young  one  removed, 
after  which,  though  I  waited  for  a  long  time, 
she  was  seen  no  more — it  was  evident  she  had 
transferred  all  her  family, 


228  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

I  found  her  new  nest  in  the  plantation;  it  was 
quite  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  the  first, 
and  it  was  wonderful  that  she  moved  the  little 
things  so  quickly  as  she  did.  Why  the  removal 
was  undertaken  is  another  matter,  but  evidently 
there  was  something  she  did  not  like  about  the 
nest  in  the  spruce,  and  so  built  a  new  one  in 
a  more  secluded  spot.  But  it  annoyed  me  to 
think  that  a  squirrel  had  made  a  nest,  and 
reared  her  young  ones,  in  a  tree  practically 
touching  the  house,  and  I  never  even  suspected 
her  presence  until  she  betrayed  it  by  carrying 
them  away. 

There  can  be  no  question  that  squirrels  have 
a  weakness  for  eggs,  and  will  also  kill  callow 
nestlings,  and  I  strongly  suspect  that  this  one 
had  eaten  the  eggs  of  the  sparrows.  Many  rodents 
are  liable  to  succumb  to  such  a  temptation  if  the 
opportunity  arises  ;  indeed,  it  is  astonishing  what 
a  number  of  creatures  there  are,  which  are 
popularly  supposed  to  feed  only  on  nuts,  grain, 
etc.,  which  will  eat  flesh  if  providence  puts  it  in 
their  way,  ditto  eggs  if  they  chance  upon  them. 
Mice,  for  instance,  take  heavy  toll  of  the  eggs 
of  those  small  birds  that  nest  on,  or  near,  the 
ground. 

Of  course  the  squirrel  is  principally  a  vegetarian  ; 
that  it  eats  nuts  is  notorious,  and  every  nut- 
gathering  boy  is  aware  that  his  greatest  competitor 
is  that  dainty  sprite  in  golden-red  which  flashes 
through  the  trees  and  bushes.  But  the  general 
belief  that  the  squirrel  is  a  most  provident  little 


THE    SQUIRREL  229 

animal,  and  that  it  lays  by  a  large  store  of  nuts, 
from  which  it  draws  its  supplies  in  winter,  when 
food  is  scarce,  is  hardly  so  accurate.  The  story 
of  the  pile  of  hazel  nuts  and  acorns,  hidden  in  a 
hole  in  a  tree,  somewhere  near  its  nest,  rests,  I 
am  convinced,  on  anything  but  direct  observation, 
and  is  totally  at  variance  with  the  squirrel's  habits 
and  character.  It  is  one  of  those  pleasing  myths 
that  one  feels  loath  to  give  up,  but  I  have  never 
found  a  particle  of  evidence  in  support  of  it. 
Certainly  the  squirrel  does  hide  away  some  of 
its  food,  but  not  with  the  foresight  that  old 
Nature  books  credit  it  with.  Its  method  is  a 
most  erratic  one.  It  buries  a  nut  here,  an  acorn 
there,  in  the  grass,  among  fallen  leaves,  under 
moss,  or  anywhere  that  it  can  scratch  a  hole 
and  drop  its  treasure  in.  Each  nut  is  hidden 
separately,  according  to  where  it  chances  to  be 
found,  there  is  no  method  in  the  way  it  is  buried, 
and  any  one  squirrel's  store  may  be  scattered 
throughout  a  considerable  area  of  woodland. 
Unfortunately  the  owner's  memory  is  far  from 
good,  and  generally  fails  it,  so  it  is  pure  luck 
whether  it  ever  finds  any  part  of  its  stores  when 
the  time  comes  to  want  them.  When  the  winter 
shortage  sends  it  down  to  the  ground,  to  hunt 
and  rummage  among  the  woodland  carpet  of 
fallen  leaves,  it  is  just  as  hkely  to  unearth  some 
other  squirrel's  hidden  treasure  as  that  which 
it  put  away  itself. 

It  is  very  amusing  to  watch  a  squirrel  either 
hiding    nuts    or    hunting    for    them.     When    nuts 


230  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

are  plentiful  in  the  autumn  you  may  often  see 
one  at  work.  It  comes  running  down  a  tree 
trunk  with  a  nut  in  its  mouth,  jumps  on  to  the 
ground,  where  it  hops  to  and  fro  for  a  moment, 
then  pauses  suddenly,  scratches  hastily  with  its 
fore-paws,  drops  the  nut  into  the  shallow  hole 
thus  made,  and  as  hastily  covers  it  up  again, 
all  the  time  wearing  a  fugitive  and  guilty  air, 
as  if  it  is  afraid  of  being  caught  in  the  act.  It 
then  scampers  off,  but  comes  across  an  acorn 
on  the  way,  which  is  there  and  then  hidden  on 
the  spot  where  it  was  found,  after  which  it  leaps 
into  a  nut  bush,  only  to  descend  in  a  moment 
or  two  with  another,  which  is  buried  under 
the  bush.  Numbers  of  nuts  and  acorns  are 
treated  in  this  way,  and,  as  said  before,  some 
of  them  are  recovered  when,  in  the  midst  of  the 
winter,  food  runs  short,  for  then  the  squirrels 
come  down  and  hunt  industriously  among  the 
mass  of  dead  leaves  that  lie  so  thick  beneath  the 
trees ;  but  others  are  never  found,  and  many 
a  nut  bush,  and  many  a  great  oak,  owes  its 
existence  to  the  nut  or  acorn  having  been  planted 
by  a  squirrel.  Pheasants  too,  foraging  among 
the  moss,  fern,  and  leaves,  bring  to  hght  many 
that  were  buried ;  in  short,  it  is  but  a  tithe 
of  the  nuts  that  were  buried  in  the  autumn 
which  the  squirrel  eats,  and  even  then  it 
probably  consumes  its  neighbours'  nuts  and  not 
its  own  ! 

At  first  sight  it  seems  as  if  this  habit  of  the 
squirrel  can  be  of  little  use  to  it ;    however,  as 


THE    SQUIRREL  231 

it  does  find  a  small  proportion  of  the  nuts  it 
puts  away,  it  derives  a  certain  amount  of  benefit 
from  its  hiding  instinct,  though  not  as  much  as 
do  the  rats  and  mice,  which  lay  by  large  stores 
in  their  burrows,  on  which  to  subsist  in  times 
of  scarcity.  But  then  there  is  little  instinct, 
and  much  intelligence,  in  the  way  the  rat  does 
its  storing.  Which  remark  leads  me  into  a 
digression,  for  many  persons  overlook  the  great 
part  played  by  intelligence  and  experience, 
failing  to  realize  that  birds  and  beasts  differ 
from  ourselves,  not  in  kind  but  in  degree.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  even  the  human  species 
has  its  instincts,  e.g.  the  baby  that  automati- 
cally sucks  its  mother's  breast.  But  with  us 
unreasoning  inherited  impulses  are  reduced  to 
a  minimum,  which  does  not  mean  that  other 
creatures  are  without  any  share  in  the  power 
of  understanding  and  profiting  from  what  goes 
on  around  them.  They  vary  in  their  ability  to 
put  "  two  and  two  together,"  though  all  learn, 
some  more,  and  others  less,  through  experience. 
The  more  one  sees  of  birds  and  beasts,  the  more 
highly  does  one  rate  their  intelligence.  Some, 
of  course,  are  more  "  brainy  "  than  others,  and, 
though  he  is  by  no  means  a  fool,  our  friend  the 
squirrel  is  not  one  of  the  most  clever ;  for  instance, 
he  cannot  rank  with  the  raven  and  the  common 
rat — their  mentality  is  indeed  of  a  high  order  ! 

Still,  as  said  before,  the  squirrel  is  not  a  fool. 
For  example,  he  knows  well  when  he  is  safe 
and  out  of  reach,  and  it  is  a  most  amusing  sight 


232  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

to  see  one  that  has  been  disturbed  when  on  the 
ground  race  for  a  tree,  and  then,  having  got 
out  of  reach,  turn  round  and  abuse  the  intruder. 
Having  reached  a  high  place,  where  it  feels  safe, 
it  will  turn  round,  sit  up,  and  jerk  out,  its  plume- 
like tail  waving  at  each  bob,  the  sounds  "  Vut ! 
vut !  vut !  "  in  rapid  succession.  The  more 
annoyed  it  gets,  the  more  vigorous  are  its  jerks, 
until  it  seems  as  if  it  must  shake  itself  off  the 
branch  in  its  annoyance  and  excitement.  Indeed, 
a  squirrel  up  a  tree  will  indulge  in  as  much 
vulgar  abuse  as  a  small  street  boy  safe  out  of 
reach. 

Though  the  squirrel  does  not  hesitate  to 
show  itself  when  it  knows  that  it  is  safe,  yet  no 
creature  understands  better  the  art  of  keeping 
out  of  sight,  and  of  seeing  without  being  seen. 
The  first  hint  of  a  possible  foe  causes  it  to  pop 
round  the  nearest  tree  trunk,  and  it  then  takes 
care  to  keep  several  feet  of  "  heart  of  oak " 
between  it  and  the  enemy,  dodging  backwards 
and  forwards  as  the  foe  shifts  his  position. 
One  must  indeed  have  sharp  eyes  to  distinguish 
that  httle  head  just  peeping  round  the  tree.  For 
one  thing  a  squirrel's  colour  blends  wonderfully 
well  with  its  surroundings.  I  do  not  mean  to 
assert  that  its  beautiful  red-brown  coat  is  a 
matter  of  protective  adaptation,  for  probably  any 
other  shade  of  brown  would  be  as  difficult  to  see, 
but  it  is  far  from  being  conspicuous.  In  winter 
you  are  apt  to  overlook  a  squirrel,  taking  it  for 
a  bunch  of  dry  leaves,  and  in  summer  it  seems 


THE    SQUIRREL  233 

to  merge  into  the  shadowy  spaces  between  the 
green  ones.  If  you  doubt  this,  try  the  follow- 
ing experiment :  note  the  exact  position  of  a 
squirrel,  turn  away  your  eyes  for  a  moment, 
and  then  try  and  re-locate  the  squirrel.  Even 
if  the  animal  has  not  moved  and  you  know 
where  to  look,  it  will  not  be  so  easy  to  "  spot  " 
it  as  you  expected.  Summer  and  autumn  are 
'the  periods  of  plenty  with  the  squirrel,  when  the 
nuts  and  berries  are  ripening  and  the  woodland 
world  is  full  of  good  fare,  but  it  does  not  wax 
so  fat  as  the  dormouse,  probably  because  it  does 
not  indulge  in  a  prolonged  sleep.  It  does  not 
hibernate  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term,  though 
bad  weather  will  keep  it  temporarily  at  home 
in  its  warm  nest ;  however,  you  may  meet  with 
it  abroad  at  all  times  of  the  year,  and  I  have 
often  seen  squirrels  about  in  the  snow,  besides 
tracking  them  where  they  have  come  down  to 
explore  the  strange  white  substance. 

It  is  generally  accepted  as  a  fact  that  each 
squirrel  has  its  own  nest,  and  I  think  this  is  as  a 
rule  correct,  but  I  have  found  three  full-grown 
ones  sharing  the  same  quarters.  My  brother  and 
I  were  walking  through  a  wood  one  warm  summer 
afternoon,  when  we  spied  a  squirrel's  drey  in  a 
wych-elm.  The  nest  was  somewhat  larger  than 
usual,  and  was  placed  where  the  trunk  forked 
into  two  big  branches.  "  Let  us  see  if  there 
is  a  squirrel  at  home,"  said  my  brother,  and 
hit  the  tree  with  his  stick.  Instantly  a  brown 
head  with  feathery  ears  and  beady  eyes  peeped 


234  WOODLAND    CREATURES 


out,  and  in  response  to  a  second  blow  the 
squirrel  sprang  from  the  nest  and  scuttled  away- 
through  the  branches,  a  second  following  it, 
and  then  a  third.  They  looked  quite  adult, 
and  to  this  day  I  have  no  clue  whether  they  were 
three  old  ones  that  had  made  a  common 
dwelUng  or  a  family  that  had  not  yet  parted 
company,  but  probabihty  is  in  favour  of  the 
latter  theory. 

Squirrels  make  the  most  delightful  pets  if 
taken  in  hand  young  enough,  and  are  very  easy 
creatures  to  keep  in  good  health,  but  it  should 
not  be  forgotten  that  they  have  the  most  for- 
midable teeth,  and  can,  if  annoyed,  inflict  a  far 
worse  bite  than  a  rat.  I  had  a  squirrel  for  some 
time,  but  "  Nutkin,"  as  he  was  called,  never  became 
very  confiding,  so  I  turned  him  out  in  the  garden. 
As  said  before,  to  get  any  animal  really  tame 
you  should  have  it  when  very  small  and  before 
it  has  learnt  to  fear.  However,  Nutkin  acquired 
a  fair  amount  of  confidence.  He  would  take 
a  nut  from  me,  hold  it  in  his  paws,  nibble  off 
the  point,  split  the  shell,  and  eat  the  kernel. 
He  was  also  fond  of  apples,  besides  which  he 
would  eat  dry  bread,  soaked  dog-biscuit,  and 
many  odds  and  ends.  He  was  quite  a  thirsty 
creature,  and  a  supply  of  fresh  water  was  always 
kept  in  his  cage.  By  the  way,  I  would  beg 
anybody  who  has  a  pet  squirrel  not  to  shut  it 
up  in  one  of  those  horrible  little  cages  with  a 
revolving  wheel,  but  to  have  a  large  roomy 
one,  or  better  still,  a  wire  enclosure  made  for  it. 


1 


THE    SQUIRREL. 

I.    OFF    TO    LOOK    FOR    ANOTHER    NUT. 

2.    CONTEMPLATION. 


THE    SQUIRREL  235 

Best  of  all  is  to  give  it  its  liberty,  for  if  encour- 
aged with  food  it  will  probably  remain  about  the 
house  and  gardens,  where  it  will  be  a  far  greater 
joy  than  as  a  poor  prisoner  in  a  miserable  little 
cage. 

When  Nutkin  was  released  he  made  his 
headquarters  up  a  big  fir  tree  near  the  house, 
and  in  the  crotch  of  a  hawthorn  next  to  it 
was  kept  a  supply  of  nuts,  which  served  as  a 
lure  to  keep  him  from  wandering  far  afield. 
For  more  than  twelve  months  he  stopped  about 
the  garden,  with  occasional  excursions  to  the 
orchard  and  perhaps  to  the  wood.  Twice  he 
was  away  for  a  week  or  more,  but  sooner  or 
later  the  nuts  disappeared,  or  he  was  seen  sitting 
up  on  a  branch  eating  them,  and  we  knew  he 
had  returned.  For  a  long  time  he  led  a 
lonely  Hfe,  and  the  hope  that  he  might  meet 
with  a  mate  on  his  wanderings  and  bring  her 
back  to  share  the  good  things  in  the  fork  of  the 
hawthorn  was  never  realized,  but  when  the 
spring  came  round  again  he  disappeared  for 
weeks,  so  that  it  was  generally  believed  that 
he  had  gone  for  good.  One  day  in  the  wood 
I  saw  a  very  bright  reddish  squirrel,  which 
seemed  very  tame,  that  was  undoubtedly 
Nutkin,  in  company  with  a  hghter  duller  one, 
and  I  was  convinced  that  this  was  the  fascinating 
female  that  was  keeping  him  from  home.  By 
the  way,  squirrels  vary  a  great  deal  in  colour, 
some  being  quite  a  faded  brown,  and  having 
light   brushes   approaching   grey   in   colour,   while 


236  WOODLAND   CREATURES 

others  are  a  lovely  rich  red-brown  with  tails 
to  match.  Some  of  these  varieties  are  merely 
a  question  of  seasonal  changes  of  the  coat,  while 
others  are  individual ;  but  the  most  beautiful 
of  red  English  squirrels  hardly  approach  in 
beauty  of  colour  to  the  bright  golden-red  of  the 
Continental  squirrel. 

To  return  to  Nutkin,  in  June  he  came  home 
again,  took  his  nuts  regularly  every  morning, 
and  remained  about  the  place  until  the  following 
spring,  when  he  disappeared  once  more,  this 
time  for  good,  for  I  never  saw  him  again. 
Maybe  the  fascinations  of  the  little  squirrel  with 
the  light  tail  had  lured  him  away  into  the  depths 
of  the  woods,  possibly  some  wanton  person  with 
a  gun  had  ended  his  life,  or,  another  possibility, 
old  age  may  have  overtaken  him,  but  the  latter 
is  a  fate  that  seldom  befalls  wild  creatures. 
I  must  here  protest  against  the  shooting  of 
squirrels.  The  worst  that  can  be  urged  against 
this  most  beautiful  and  delightful  animal  is  that 
it  sometimes  does  harm  to  young  firs  by  biting 
off  the  growing  shoots,  and  that  therefore  it 
cannot  be  called  a  desirable  inmate  of  young 
plantations,  but  in  established  woods  it  does 
no  harm  whatever.  But  in  these  remarks  anent 
the  harmlessness  of  the  common  red  squirrel, 
that  recent  importation,  the  American  grey 
squirrel,  is  not  included.  The  latter  is  a  pretty 
and  quite  charming  creature,  but  if  only  half 
the  reports  one  hears  of  its  mischievous  deeds 
are   true,   its  release  in  this  country  is   as  great 


THE    SQUIRREL  237 

a  mistake  as  was  that  of  the  Httle  owl.  The 
grey  squirrel  shows  a  decided  tendency  to 
increase,  spread  out,  and  supplant  our  native 
squirrel.  It  needs  careful  watching  lest  it  should 
get  out  of  hand.  In  the  London  parks  it  is  all 
right,  but  we  do  not  want  it  to  oust  our  red 
squirrel  from  its  native  woods. 

Before  closing  this  chapter  I  should  like  to 
refer  to  the  fondness  of  the  squirrel  for  the 
seeds  of  the  Scotch  pine  and  other  firs.  It  will 
strip  the  hard  woody  cones  to  get  at  the  seeds 
inside,  and  you  will  often  find  the  ground  in  a 
pine  wood  littered  with  the  remains  of  the 
squirrel's  feasting. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  place  where  a  squirrel  looks 
more  lovely  than  when  it  is  posed  on  the 
branch  of  a  Scotch  fir,  the  red-gold  of  its  coat 
and  plumelike  tail  showing  up  against  the  grey- 
green  of  the  pine  needles.  It  is  indeed  to  be 
hoped  that  no  misguided  efforts  to  increase  our 
fauna  with  American  importations  will  lead  to 
a  reduction  in  the  numbers  of  one  of  our  most 
lovely  native  creatures,  which  is  not  very  plentiful 
as  it  is,  and  which  shows  a  tendency  to  decrease 
from  natural  causes,  and  is  in  no  state  to  with- 
stand the  competition  of  a  rival  like  the  grey 
squirrel. 

(The  common  squirrel,  which  Linnceus  named 
Sciurus  vulgaris,  has  by  modern  systematists  been 
divided  into  a  number  of  races,  no  less  than  twelve 
being  recognized  in   Western  Europe.     As  there  is 


238  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

not  space  here  to  describe  them  all,  it  will  be  best  to 
state  no  more  than  that  the  British  squirrel  has  been 
dubbed  S.  v.  leucourus,  Kerr.,  and  is  distinguished, 
among  other  particulars,  by  its  more  drab-coloured 
tail,  which  is  especially  liable  to  fade.) 


CHAPTER    XII 
THE    MAGPIE    AND    THE   JAY 

THE  magpie  and  jay  are  two  of  the  most 
sprightly  and  vivacious  birds  we  have ; 
they  bubble  with  hfe,  not  to  say  devilry, 
as  one  may  see  in  the  flash  of  their  bright  eye 
and  in  the  swagger  of  their  consequential  hop. 
How  dull  and  uninteresting  our  woods  would  be 
without  them.  A  party  of  jays  will  fill  the 
dingles  with  Hfe,  as  they  hop  about  the  trees, 
flit  from  bough  to  bough,  or  drop  down  to  pry 
into  this  and  that.  Every  Uttle  thing  is 
investigated,  peered  into  by  sharp  eyes,  and 
turned  over  with  a  strong  bill,  for  the  jay,  and 
likewise  the  magpie,  is  as  inquisitive  as  any- 
thing that  walks  in  feathers.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  save  for  a  small  step  now  and  again,  these 
birds  always  hop,  and  it  is  the  most  swaggering 
and  consequential  gait  that  ever  a  bird  indulged 
in.  But  both  species  have  excuse  for  behaving 
as  if  they  think  well  of  themselves,  for  smarter 
birds  one  could  not  wish  to  meet  with,  the  jay 
in  particular  being  a  lovely  creature.  Whether 
it   is   up   among   the   branches   or   down    on    the 

asQ. 


240  WOODLAND    CREATURES 


moss    and     fern-covered    woodland    floor,    it    is 
equally  striking  and  beautiful. 

When  a  party  of  jays  are  in  a  wood  their 
chattering  wakes  the  echoes  to  life,  and  their 
lovely  colouring  and  gay  plumage  give  a  touch 
of  bright  colour  to  the  otherwise  sombre  scene. 
Through  the  subdued  greens  of  hazel,  oak,  and 
ash,  a  jay  passes  like  a  glimpse  of  the  tropics 
strayed  into  our  quiet  English  woods.  To 
describe  its  plumage  in  full  detail  would  take 
up  too  much  space  here,  but  as  it  passes  on 
the  wing  its  conspicuous  features  are  a  white 
rump  and  white  marks  on  its  wings,  its  pinkish 
back,  dark  tail,  and  the  flash  of  blue  from  the 
wing  coverts.  So  complicated  is  the  patterning 
that  in  the  hand  alone  can  the  full  beauty  of  the 
bird  be  appreciated.  It  is  then  seen  that  its 
bastard-wing,  primary  coverts,  and  outer 
great  coverts,  are  a  lovely  sky-blue,  barred 
with  black,  which  black  bars  are  narrowly 
lined  with  white  ;  that  the  rest  of  the  feathers 
of  the  wings  are  beautifully  marked  and  shaded, 
varying  from  black  to  chestnut ;  and  that  the 
body  plumage  is  a  study  in  itself ;  so  that, 
as  already  mentioned,  it  would  need  a  long 
description  to  deal  fully  with  the  numerous 
details  of  markings  and  tints.  But  the  bird 
is  so  unmistakable  that  it  will  not  be  necessary 
to  enter  upon  any  such  minute  description. 

The  jay  is  essentially  a  bird  of  the  wooded 
country;  now  and  again  one  may  meet  with  it 
away   from   its   beloved   trees,   but   as   a   rule  it 


1 


THE  MAGPIE  AND   THE   JAY       241 

keeps  to  the  shelter  of  the  woodlands,  and  is 
nowhere  so  plentiful  as  in  the  West  of  England, 
where  thick  bush-clad  dingles  and  much  wild 
tree-covered  country  give  it  the  hunting  grounds 
that  it  loves.  Here  it  ranges  through  the  big 
coverts  and  out  into  the  tree-dotted  fields,  adding 
that  touch  of  colour  and  animation  to  the  scene 
which  no  other  bird  can  give,  not  even  its  striking 
and  handsome  relative  the  magpie,  also  classed, 
like  the  jay,  in  the  family  CorvidcB,  i.e.  with 
the  rooks,  crow,  raven,  etc. 

For  "  brains "  and  general  intelligence,  for 
what  I  have  heard  described  as  having  "  mentality 
of  a  high  order,"  this  family  cannot  be  beaten 
among  birds,  and  high  among  a  clever  assembly 
I  would  place  the  magpie,  with  next  to  it  its 
cousin  the  jay.  Both,  for  cunning  and  general 
"  cuteness,"  are  hard  to  beat,  but  of  the  two 
the  magpie  is  undoubtedly  the  more  acute.  How 
quick  it  is  to  become  aware  of  danger,  how  quick 
to  note  the  appearance  of  a  man  with  a  gun, 
and  how  cunning  it  is  in  the  matter  of  traps ! 
But  indeed  it  needs  all  its  wits  about  it,  for 
every  man's  hand  is  against  it.  If  it  were 
not  for  its  exceptional  alertness,  it  must  long 
since  have  been  exterminated  ;  instead,  it  is  still 
far  from  being  uncommon  in  any  part  of  the 
country. 

Before  going  on  to  deal  with  the  magpie's 
character,  and  it  is  a  bird  with  considerable  charac- 
ter, it  will  be  necessary  to  recall  to  the  reader's  mind 
its  appearance.     At  first  glance  it  appears  to  be 

16 


242  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

clad  in  a  simple  livery  of  black  and  white :  here  we 
have  no  dehcately  gradated  tints,  no  colour  scheme 
that  would  take  two  or  three  pages  to  describe 
adequately,  but  a  bold  and  startling  pattern 
which  one  can  see  half  a  mile  off,  and  which  is 
as  conspicuous  an  advertisement  as  one  can  find 
in  the  bird  world.  But  the  casual  glance  is 
deceptive ;  a  second  look  shows  the  magpie's 
colouring  is  not  merely  plain  black  and  white. 
The  white  is  certainly  only  white,  but  the  glossy 
black  feathers,  especially  the  long  ones  of  the 
tail,  become  on  nearer  examination,  any  and 
every  hue  save  black.  The  feathers  are  exceedingly 
glossy,  and  glow  with  metallic  lights,  appearing 
purple,  bronze-green,  bronze,  and  lustrous  blue. 
Certain  areas  reflect  certain  tints,  so  that  what 
at  first  seemed  such  a  simple  colour  scheme 
resolves  itself  after  all  into  quite  a  comphcated 
one,  and  a  very  beautiful  one  too. 

Though  common  in  every  wood  where  it  can 
escape  the  gamekeeper's  deadly  enmity,  the 
magpie  is  not  so  essentially  a  forest  species  as 
the  jay,  but  will  wander  out  into  the  open  country, 
when  its  conspicuous  plumage  and  weak  wavering 
flight  proclaim  its  identity  from  afar,  affording, 
according  to  the  number  of  its  party,  an  omen  to 
those  persons  who  are  of  a  superstitious  turn  of 
mind.  The  country  people  have  a  rhyme  which 
runs : 

One  for  sorrow. 
Two  for  mirth. 
Three  for  a  wedding. 
Four  for  a  birth. 


THE  MAGPIE  AND   THE  JAY       243 

As  regards  its  flight,  it  really  flies  better 
than  it  appears  to,  getting  along  at  a  good  pace, 
but  the  impression  it  makes  is  that  it  is  a  slow 
and  feeble  flier.  However,  whether  in  the  air 
or  on  the  ground,  its  peculiar  and  conspicuous 
colour  pattern  leaves  no  doubt  as  to  its  identity, 
for  there  is  no  other  European  bird  like  it,  and 
its  markings  seldom  vary,  though  when  one  does 
meet  with  freaks  they  are  generally  extraordinary 
ones.  Take  for  instance  a  unique  magpie  that 
was  shot  at  Wenlock  in  Shropshire.^  The  parts 
of  the  plumage  that  are  usually  black  were  a 
dull  fawn,  excepting  the  wings,  under-parts 
and  tail,  which  were  nearly  white,  and  the  top 
of  its  head,  which  was  grey.  A  further  pecu- 
liarity was  that  it  had  abnormal  tail  and  wing 
feathers,  for  they  were  hairy  like  those  of  a 
silky  fowl.  The  latter  characteristic  is  due  to 
the  absence  of  the  minute  hooks  which  in 
normal  feathers  hold  the  fibres  together.  But 
such  a  freak  as  this  is  very  rare,  and  as  a  rule 
the  magpie  adheres  strictly  to  its  black  and  white 
uniform. 

Some  naturalists  hold  that  the  black  and  white 
of  the  magpie  and  the  gay  colours  of  the  jay 
are  warning  or  advertising  schemes ;  that  their 
beautiful  and  conspicuous  hues  are  to  let  all 
carnivorous  creatures  know  that  they  are  not 
good    to  eat ;   but   the   point  is,   are   these   birds 

«  A  full  account  of  this  magpie,  and  of  another  extraordinary 
specimen  that  was  obtained  at  Longnor,  Salop,  was  given  by 
Mr.  H.  E.  Forrest  in  the  Shrewsbury  Chronigle,  June  3,  1921. 


244  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

really  distasteful  ?  Is  their  flesh  so  bitter  that 
hawks  and  owls  will  not  eat  them  ?  My  expe- 
rience is  that  birds  of  prey  would  rather  have 
other  food,  but  will  eat  them  if  they  cannot 
get  anything  else.  I  have  seen,  it  is  true,  a 
wild  sparrow  hawk  chase  and  knock  down  a 
jay.  Against  this  it  must  be  mentioned  that 
trained  sparrow  hawks  would  not  touch  the 
flesh  of  either  jays  or  magpies,  when  it  was  offered 
to  them  as  food,  unless  they  were  exceedingly 
hungry,  and  even  when  "  sharp-set "  did  not 
eat  it  with  any  relish.  A  tame  tawny  owl 
would  not  look  at  either  bird,  a  goshawk, 
too,  refused  them ;  and  as  regards  carnivorous 
mammals,  foxes  likewise  seem  to  have  a  distaste 
for  them  ;  so,  on  the  whole,  the  evidence  appears 
to  confirm  the  idea  that  they  are  not  very 
acceptable  to  the  predatory  birds  and  beasts. 
Still  it  does  not  follow  that  their  bright  colours 
have  been  specially  evolved  to  advertise  the 
fact :  it  may  merely  be  a  question  of  being  able 
to  afford  such  hues,  because  they  are  not  so 
palatable  as  to  need  special  concealment ;  in 
fact,  it  does  not  matter  whether  they  are  seen 
or  not. 

For  the  greater  part  of  the  year  neither  the 
magpie  nor  the  jay  attempt  to  keep  out  of  sight, 
but  both  flaunt  boldly  through  the  trees,  as  if  rejoic- 
ing in  their  brave  attire.  For  sheer  "  swank " 
and  "  swagger,"  however,  we  must  undoubtedly 
award  the  prize  to  the  magpie,  which,  when 
hopping  about  on  the  ground,  seem§  the  personi- 


THE  MAGPIE  AND  THE  JAY      245 

fication  of  self-importance.  It  hops  about  with 
a  swing  of  the  tail  and  a  roll  of  its  body,  with  such 
a  knowing  look  in  its  beady  dark  eye,  and  such 
an  impudent  cock  of  the  head,  that  the  onlooker 
cannot  help  but  laugh ;  indeed,  a  party  of 
magpies  feeding  out  in  a  meadow  is  a  most 
amusing  sight.  They  hop  about  so  busily,  turning 
over  the  cow  manure,  hunting  for  insects,  and 
then  stopping  to  have  a  dispute.  Not  long 
ago  I  watched  some  that  were  busy  among 
a  flock  of  sheep.  One  of  the  magpies  suddenly 
hopped  up  on  to  the  back  of  a  sheep  that  was 
lying  peaceably  at  rest,  whereupon  another 
hopped  up  after  it.  The  first  turned  round 
and  chattered  angrily  at  the  second,  but  number 
two  was  not  going  to  give  ground,  and  a  light 
began.  Up  and  down  the  sheep's  broad 
woolly  back  they  danced,  until  one  drove  the 
other  up  on  to  its  head,  which  disturbed  even 
the  sheep's  placid  serenity.  It  shook  its  head, 
rose  with  deliberation,  and  tilted  the  combatants 
off  its  back  on  to  the  ground,  where,  swinging 
their  tails  in  high  disdain  of  each  other,  they 
hopped  off  in  opposite  directions,  and  resumed 
their  business  of  searching  for  insects  and 
worms  among  the  sheep  droppings  and  the  cow 
manure. 

Both  the  magpie  and  the  jay  are  great  insect 
eaters,  devouring  quantities  of  grubs,  caterpillars, 
etc.,  but,  unfortunately  for  themselves,  they 
like  other  things  as  well;  indeed,  there  is  very 
little  they  will  not  eat,  from  carrion,  eggs,  and 


246  WOODLAND   CREATURES 

young  birds,  to  acorns  and  berries.  The 
magpie  especially  is  a  terrible  egg  thief,  for, 
with  his  nimble  wits  and  quick  eye,  he  has  no 
trouble  in  locating  the  nests  of  pheasants, 
partridges,  and  wild  ducks,  to  say  nothing  of 
those  of  smaller  birds,  and  so  takes  a  heavy  toll. 
Yet  without  any  wish  to  underrate  the  magpie's 
ability,  I  cannot  consider  it  in  the  same  class 
as  the  rook  in  the  matter  of  egg  stealing  Long 
and  bitter  experience  of  the  latter  bird,  having 
lived  for  years  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  very 
large  rookery,  has  convinced  me  that  rooks,  as 
regards  egg  thieving,  are  worse  pests  than  all 
the  magpies  and  jays  put  together  !  The  rooks 
hunt  the  fences  regularly  and  systematically 
for  nests,  and  this  whether  the  weather  be  wet 
or  dry  (the  excuse  that  has  been  put  forward, 
that  the  rook  only  sucks  eggs  in  dry  times  to 
quench  its  thirst,  is  mere  rubbish  !)  ;  they  come 
round  the  orchards  and  farmyards,  and  are 
far  bolder  than  their  woodland  cousins.  Still, 
"  two  blacks  do  not  make  a  white,"  and  it  must 
be  admitted,  as  said  before,  that  the  magpie  not 
only  has  quite  a  taste  for  eggs,  but  has  a  keen 
eye  for  the  nests  of  small  birds  in  hedgerows 
and  bushes,  also  for  the  hidden  eggs  of  pheasants 
and  partridges  lying  in  the  fence  bottoms  or 
concealed  beneath  fern  and  grass.  With  its 
cunning  eye  and  sprightly  manner  it  soon  locates 
them,  when  it  is  but  the  work  of  a  few  minutes 
for  it  to  wreck  them  all.  With  its  strong  thick 
bill  it  hammers  a  hole  in  the  side  of  each  egg, 


THE   MAGPIE  AND   THE  JAY       247 

through  which  it  drinks  its  contents.  Very  often 
the  eggs  are  not  sucked  in  the  nest  but  carried  a 
Httle  way  off ;  however,  there  are  generally  enough 
shells  left  in  the  nest  to  betray  the  identity  of 
the  culprit.  This  little  weakness  on  the  part 
of  the  magpie  has  earned  it  the  undying 
hatred  of  game-preservers  and  keepers,  whose 
war  against  it,  waged  with  gun  and  trap,  has 
certainly  more  justification  than  has  their 
destruction  of  some  other  birds  and  beasts  ;  yet 
personally  I  never  see  a  row  of  magpies  swing- 
ing from  the  keeper's  gibbet  without  a  pang 
of  regret,  for  they  are  representative  of  that 
everlasting  strife  between  man  and  wild  life 
in  which  so  many  species  have  been  worsted, 
being  reduced  to  exceeding  rarity,  or  even  ex- 
terminated. 

The  magpie,  at  any  rate,  is  not  at  present  in 
any  danger  of  extermination,  for  it  is  an  elastic 
species,  and  when  the  pressure  is  removed  by 
ever  so  little  its  numbers  soon  increase.  During 
the  war  it  increased  most  markedly,  as  did  the 
jay.  Keepers  left  their  work  to  fight  in  France 
or  Flanders,  to  help  on  the  land  or  in  munition 
factories,  shooting  and  game-preserving  came 
to  a  standstill,  and  both  the  magpie  and  jay 
profited  by  the  opportunity  and  increased  accord- 
ingly. The  magpie  especially  multiplied  sur- 
prisingly fast,  appearing  in  numbers  all  over 
the  country,  its  cheery  chuckling  chatter  being 
heard  again  in  woods  from  which  for  years  it 
had    been    exiled.    The  jay,   too,   flourished    and 


248  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

increased,  but  the  alteration  in  its  numbers  was 
not  so  apparent,  for  it  keeps  more  strictly  to 
the  shelter  of  the  coverts  and  is  therefore  not 
so  noticeable. 

Of  the  two  birds  the  jay  is  really  the  more 
generally  plentiful,  but  the  magpie  is  far  and 
away  the  most  conspicuous,  bringing  itself  before 
the  public  eye,  and  even  in  its  nesting  habits 
showing  little  wish  for  retirement.  We  all  know 
its  large  domed  nest  of  twigs,  for  it  is  a  noticeable 
object  wherever  placed.  Sometimes  it  will  be 
situated  in  a  tall  old  hawthorn  hedge,  at  others 
in  the  top  of  a  high  oak,  but  whether  the  site 
be  in  a  tree  or  bush,  the  owners  generally  take 
good  care  that  the  spot  is  not  too  accessible  ; 
indeed,  the  nest  is  generally  very  difficult  to  get 
at.  Considering  the  size  of  the  bird,  the  nest 
is  a  big  one,  the  diameter  from  the  bottom  to  the 
top  of  the  dome  being  often  two  and  a  half  to 
three  feet.  It  is  built  of  small  sticks  and  twigs, 
generally  thorny  ones  on  the  outside,  the  nest 
itself  being  lined  with  earth,  and  over  that  an 
inner  lining  of  fine  roots  ;  the  whole  being  covered 
by  the  dome,  which  is  invariably  made  of  thorny 
sticks,  through  which  a  small  hole  gives  entrance 
to  the  interior,  so  that  the  nest  is  well  barricaded 
against  would-be  enemies. 

Magpies  pair  in  February,  building  being  begun 
in  March,  when  new  erections  appear  in  the 
covert-side  trees,  or  old  mansions  undergo 
repair.  Many  books  on  birds  say  that  old  nests 
are  usually  done  up,  and  that  it  is  the  rule  for 


THE   MAGPIE  AND   THE   JAY       249 

them  to  be  used  again,  but  after  seeing  scores 
of  new  nests  built  spring  after  spring,  and  having 
only  found  one  case  of  an  old  nest  being  repaired, 
I  think  that,  far  from  being  the  rule,  it  is  quite 
the  exception. 

The  magpie's  eggs  are  like  those  of  the  black- 
bird, only  larger,  but  vary  considerably  in  tint 
and  markings.  They  are  generally  laid  towards 
the  middle  of  April,  by  which  time  the  bulky 
nest  has  been  finished  and  everything  is  ready 
for  the  great  business  of  the  year.  The  clutch 
is  usually  five  or  six  in  number,  but  more  may 
be  met  with.  The  hen  soon  begins  to  incubate 
the  eggs,  and,  secure  in  her  thorny  fortress,  does 
not  quit  them  for  any  slight  alarm.  It  is 
surprising  what  an  amount  of  noise  she  will  put 
up  with  before  she  flies  off.  There  was  a  nest 
in  a  very  high  fence  which  I  believed  was  occupied, 
and  to  make  sure  I  hit  the  stem  of  the  hawthorn 
with  my  stick,  which  had  no  effect  whatever ; 
my  light  taps  became  heavy  blows,  yet  still 
nothing  happened.  However,  I  was  convinced 
that  there  was  a  magpie  at  home,  so  got  hold  of 
a  main  branch  and  began  to  shake  the  bush. 
After  an  extra  vigorous  shake  I  looked  up  to 
see  if  anything  was  happening  above,  looked 
up,  unfortunately,  at  the  very  moment  that  the 
magpie  had  decided  she  could  stand  no  more, 
and  was  about  to  leave.  My  intention  was  to 
call  to  my  companion  that  we  had  made  a 
mistake,  and  there  could  not  be  anything  in  the 
nest,   but  my  remark  was  never  uttered,  for  as 


250  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

I  opened  my  mouth  to  speak  the  bird  flew  away, 
and  I  received  full  in  the  face  what  we  will  for 
the  sake  of  politeness  call  her  "  blessing  !  "  Oh  ! 
how  my  companion  laughed !  Oh !  how  I  spit 
and  tried  to  clear  my  mouth  of  the  filthy  and 
disgusting  stuff  that  had  gone  into  it !  It  was 
a  horrible  episode,  and  the  magpie  was  well 
revenged  for  being  wantonly  disturbed. 

Both  the  old  birds  work  hard  to  keep  the 
nestlings  supplied,  and  with  half  a  dozen  hungry 
young  ones  to  satisfy  they  have  no  light  task  ; 
but  once  they  get  the  family  out  of  the  nest  their 
troubles  are  more  or  less  over,  for  they  have 
but  one  brood  in  a  season.  It  is  true  that  if  a 
pair  of  magpies  lose  their  first  clutch  of  eggs, 
they  will  speedily  make  another  nest  and  lay  a 
second,  but  having  succeeded  in  launching  a 
family  into  the  world,  they  resign  domestic  cares 
and  worry  no  more,  that  year,  about  nest 
building.  By  the  way,  I  am  of  the  opinion  that 
when  an  old  nest  is  repaired  and  made  use  of 
again,  it  is  by  birds  that  have  been  disturbed 
from  their  original  nest  and  are  in  a  hurry  for 
fresh  housing  accommodation.  Nesting  magpies, 
despite  the  excellent  defences  of  their  strong- 
holds, have  much  to  put  up  with ;  their  mansions 
are  so  noticeable  that  nest-hunting  boys  and 
keepers  are  alike  attracted  to  them,  and  any 
pair  that  are  visited  by  one  of  the  latter  are 
sure  to  meet  with  trouble.  If,  however,  one  of 
the  pair  escapes  a  tragic  death  from  the  keeper's 
gun,  it    quickly    finds    another    mate;    indeed,  it 


THE  MAGPIE  AND   THE  JAY       251 

is  astonishing  how  soon  a  new  cock,  or  a  new 
hen,  as  the  case  may  be,  comes  forward  to  con- 
sole the  bereaved  one.  There  must  be  quite  a 
number  of  unattached  birds  of  both  sexes  about 
the  country-side,  yet  one  hardly  ever  sees  a 
solitary  magpie,  other  than  lone  cocks  when 
their  mates  are  sitting.  Yet  bachelor  birds  must 
exist,  for  if  not  where  do  the  new  mates  spring 
from  so  quickly  ? 

The  magpie  is  a  very  sociable  bird,  it  likes 
company,  and  the  family  parties  do  not  break 
up,  but  remain  together  through  the  autumn 
and  winter.  Sometimes  several  families  will 
join  forces,  but  this  can  only  happen  in  those 
parts  of  the  country  where  the  bird  is  fairly 
plentiful  and  not  much  persecuted.  I  have  seen 
flocks  on  two  or  three  occasions,  the  largest  being 
one  of  from  fifty  to  sixty  birds,  or  possibly  more. 
They  were  in  a  small  coppice,  the  wood  seeming 
quite  aUve  with  them,  and,  as  I  was  on  horseback, 
they  took  no  notice  of  me,  but  continued  to  hop 
to  and  fro  very  busily  about  their  business.  I 
counted  over  fifty  and  there  were  certainly  more, 
possibly  over  sixty. 

Though  the  jay  is  also  of  a  sociable  disposition, 
it  never  flocks,  i.e.  the  family  parties  do  not 
combine,  but  each  clan  "  keeps  itself  to  itself." 
But  I  am  getting  on  too  fast,  for  nothing  has  yet 
been  said  about  the  jay's  nesting  habits.  Noisy 
and  impudent  as  the  bird  may  be  at  other  times 
of  year,  a  great  change  comes  over  it  in  the 
early    spring,  when    its    talkativeness    gives   way 


252  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

to  a  quietness  which  is  almost  morose.  It  no 
longer  chatters  as  it  goes,  but  slips  through  the 
woods  as  silently  as  a  shadow.  You  may  then 
listen  the  long  day  through  and  never  hear  a 
jay  utter  a  sound.  One  might  imagine  the 
cheery  chatterers  had  gone,  leaving  the  trees 
sober  and  quiet  without  them,  but  here  and 
there  one  catches  a  glimpse  of  a  white  rump,  a 
dark  wing,  or  those  bright  blue  wing  coverts, 
betraying  that  the  gay  owners  are  there  all  the 
time.  The  fact  is  that  with  the  advent  of  the 
nesting  season  a  great  change  comes  over  the 
jay;  the  care-free  joyous  bird  is  transformed 
into  a  shy  careful  creature,  slipping  quietly  through 
the  trees,  and  uttering  only  the  most  subdued 
of  chuckles,  so  as  to  escape  notice  and  not  draw 
attention  to  its  nest.  It  thus  escapes  observation, 
and  its  nest  is  difficult  to  find,  so  that  more  often 
than  not  the  family  are  launched  into  the 
world  before  one  is  aware  that  there  was  a 
nest  near  at  hand.  The  nest  is  usually  built 
in  bushes  in  the  woods  at  from  five  to  twenty 
feet  from  the  ground,  and  is  an  open  one,  made 
of  sticks  and  twigs,  strengthened  with  a  little 
earth,  and  lined  with  fine  roots.  The  eggs  are 
not  unlike  those  of  a  blackbird,  though,  of 
course,  bigger,  but  the  spotting  is  much  finer, 
and  as  a  rule  there  is  a  black  hairline  at  the 
bigger  end. 

When  the  young  leave  the  nest  they  remain 
with  their  parents,  roaming  the  woods,  and 
waking    the    echoes    with    their    chattering,    for. 


THE   MAGPIE  AND   THE   JAY       253 

now  that  there  is  nothing  to  conceal,  even  the 
old  birds  find  their  voices  again,  which  they  use 
on  any  and  every  occasion.  Let  a  fox  move 
from  his  lair  in  a  bramble  bush,  a  stoat  chase  a 
rabbit  from  its  burrow,  or  a  poaching  cat  wander 
down  the  woodland  ride,  and  they  will  scream 
and  chatter  until  all  the  wild  world  knows 
that  something  is  astir.  And  not  content  with 
letting  all  and  sundry  know  what  is  going  on, 
they  follow  the  disturber  of  the  peace,  peering 
down  at  it  with  those  sharp  bright  eyes  of  pale 
skimmed-milk  colour,  hurling  abuse  from  the 
tree-tops,  and  giving  it  no  rest  until  it  seeks 
shelter  somewhere  where  those  keen  eyes  cannot 
penetrate. 

The  calls  and  cries  of  the  jay  are  legion, 
varying  from  a  subdued  little  chuckle  up  to  a 
harsh  scream ;  in  addition  it  is  a  wonderful 
mimic,  copying  the  other  inhabitants  of  the 
coverts,  and  even  imitating  the  hoot  of  the 
brown  owl.  Unless  you  have  listened  while  a 
party  of  jays  work  around  you,  it  is  impossible 
to  have  any  idea  what  they  are  capable  of.  They 
seem  to  take  a  pride  in  their  mimicry  and  to 
delight  in  copying  other  birds. 

The  jay  is  really  a  very  successful  creature, 
for,  despite  the  amount  of  persecution  it  has 
to  endure,  it  is  common  throughout  England, 
Wales,  the  Lowlands,  of  Scotland,  and  in 
Ireland,^and  is  equally  plentiful  on  the  Continent, 
ranging  right  across  Europe  into  Asia.  At  least 
birds   closely  resembling   our   English  jay   are   to 


254  WOODLAND    CREATURES 

be  found  throughout  the  area  mentioned,  and 
others  not  very  dissimilar  occur  even  in  China 
and  Japan.  However,  according  to  the  latest 
students  of  birds,  it  is  not  one  species  that  ranges 
over  these  thousands  of  miles,  but  many  distinct 
ones,  which  are  again  divisible  into  geographi- 
cal races  or  sub-species ;  for  instance,  these 
authorities  recognize  the  Irish  jay  as  distinct 
from  the  English,  and  the  latter  as  being  a 
separate  form  from  that  found  on  the  Continent ; 
but  the  differences  are  slight,  mere  shades  of 
plumage,  the  Continental  jay  being  more  grey 
than  the  English,  while  the  Irish  is  slightly 
darker ;  so  that  the  practical  field  naturalist, 
who  is  concerned  with  the  live  bird  and  not 
with  dried  skins,  will  feel  more  than  a  little 
doubtful  as  to  the  justification  for  such  sub- 
division. He  knows  how  birds  and  beasts 
vary,  that  the  same  wood  may  supply  individuals 
that  differ  considerably,  and  even  the  describers 
of  these  sub-species  confess  "  they  are  indistin- 
guishable in  the  field."  * 

It  is  of  the  jay  "  in  the  field,"  or  rather  in 
the  wood,  that  is  being  dealt  with  here,  and  in 
concluding  this  chapter  on  it  and  on  the  magpie, 
it  only  remains  to  be  said  that  whatever  the 
game-preserver's  feelings  concerning  these  two 
birds  may  be,  they  are  among  the  most  charming, 
beautiful,  and  interesting  of  woodland  birds, 
no  creatures  being  more  fascinating  to  watch 
and  study. 

«  Witberby's  Handbook  of  British  Birds,  p.  28. 


THE  MAGPIE  AND   THE  JAY       255 

{The  European  jay,  Garrulus  glandarius  of  Lin- 
ncBUS,  is  found  throughout  the  Continent,  across 
Russia,  into  Asia,  also  in  North-West  Africa,  but  it 
has  lately  been  divided  into  many  sub-species — 
some  sixteen  being  recognized — that  of  the  Continent 
has  been  dubbed  G.  g.  glandarius,  the  one  found  in 
Great  Britain  is  called  by  Hartert  G.  g.  rufitergum, 
and  that  peculiar  to  Ireland  has  been  named  G.  g. 
hibernicus  by  Witherby  and  Hartert.  The  differences 
between  the  forms  are  but  slight,  as  mentioned  in 
the  above  chapter. 

The  magpie,  Pica  pica  Linn.,  ranges  from  Ireland, 
across  Europe,  into  parts  of  Asia,  with  little  vari- 
ation in  Europe.  The  only  differentiated  form  being 
the  black  rumped  magpie  of  Spain  and  Portugal, 
which  has  been  given  sub-specific  rank  under  the 
designation  of  P.  p.  melanota.) 


Printtd  in  Great  Britain  by 

UNWIN  BROTHERS,  LIMITED 
LONDON  AND  WOKING 


QL81  PS^  B-Wood 

Pitt   Frances , 

woodland  creatures,  being 

some  wild  life  studies 

&4^^^&^e     7  1346746 


r