FOR THE PEOPLE

FOR EDVCATION

FORSCIENCE

LIBRARY

OF

THE AMERICAN MUSEUM

OF

NATURAL HISTORY

OUR EAEEE BIRDS

C^-n.

.4

G-.Keiueui;

Hankourt imp

S"^ KILDA V/REl^

London, "Richard Bentley k. Son-

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V

OUE EAKEE BIEDS

BEING

STUDIES IN ORNITHOLOGY & OOLOGY

BY

CHARLES DIXON

author of

'rural bird -life,' 'evolution without natural selection,' etc.

part author of ' a history of british birds '

WITH TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES WHYMPER
AND A FRONTISPIECE BY J. G. KEULEMANS

LONDON

RICHAED BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET

^ufaUsIjcrs in ©rtiinarg ta l^cr fHajrstg tfjc ©ucm

1888

TO

THE FIRST TO INSPIRE AND FOSTER

MY ARDENT LOVE

FOR

THE WOODS AND FIELDS AND THEIR WILD INHABITANTS

I DEDICATE THE FOLLOWING PAGES

PREFACE

The following Studies deal principally with the habits and
economy of those rarer British birds which, from the remote
and secluded districts they frequent, the localness of their
distribution, and their shy and retiring disposition, do not
come very generally under the notice of casual observers.
In wanderinf^j throuoii the woods or alonc^ the shore, or over
the mountains and the moors, the observer often obtains a
cursory glimpse of these our rarer birds ; the object of this
volume is to enable him to identify them, and to make
him familiar with their habits and characteristics. Fifteen
years of my life have been spent in this labour of love — in
gathering from personal observation the facts which are
here recorded. The greater part of these pages has been
written in the places where my information was obtained — in
field and forest, on mountain and cliff, with the birds them-
selves around me. The naturalist may doubtless find some
facts new to him in these Studies, and many questions
relating to the economy of birds have been discussed. In
the following pages I have always endeavoured to lead the
observer to a contemplation of those higher questions of
Natural Science which Ornithology so aptly illustrates, and
to put him in the way of appreciating the scientific value

PREFACE

of his researches. I also believe that in publishing my
observations within the compass of a single volume, I am
filling a want long felt by field naturalists, who have hitherto
only been able to obtain any information respecting our
rarer birds from large and costly works on British Ornithology.
In maldng my selection of our rarer birds from the four
hundred species which are regarded as British, I have used
every care, weighing impartially the claims of each to bie so
considered. " Our Piarer Birds," so far as the purposes of
the work before us are concerned, are species that cannot be
met with everywhere, like the Eobin and the Thrush, the
Sparrow and the Swallow ; and in addition I have laid it
down as a sine qiia non that each must breed within the con-
fines of the British Islands. In this I follow^ the ornithological
axiom that a bird's breeding-place is its true home. Exception
has only been made in the case of the Knot ; and I am pleased
to see that the Snow Bunting's nest has been actually obtained
in Sutherlandshire, at an elevation of nearly three thousand
feet. The classification I have adopted is what seems to
me the most natural, although the many gaps in my list of
species, which only a selection of British birds necessarily
entails, breaks much of the proper order of sequence. Probably
the classification of birds is as far from a definite and natural
settlement as ever it was, no two authorities agreeing in
their ideas as to the relative value of anatomical characters.
Where doctors disagree so wofuUy, it is not possible within
the restrictions of space here laid down either to discuss the
pros and cons of scientific arrangement, or to become re-
sponsible for any new departure. This work is written
for the lover of birds, not for the student of their pedigree
or the quibbler over their classification.

PREFACE ix

The illustrations which adorn many of the following
pages have been drawn by my friend, Mr. Charles Whymper,
to whom my best thanks are due for the very satisfactory
manner in which the work entrusted to his care has been
performed. I also desire to acknowledge here the kindness
of Dr. Sclater, F.E.S., who gave me permission, on behalf of
the British Ornithologists' Union, to include in this work the
drawing of the St. Kilda Wren, which appeared originally in
the This.

In submitting this my third volume of bird -life to the
reader's notice, it is with the most sincere and earnest wish
that he may be led into the wild and beautiful scenes these
birds frequent. He who follows the bird into its varied and
diversified haunts in quest of information need never know a
dull or a heavy moment. Let not the reader rest content
with what others tell him ; let him go out into the w^oods
and fields, and see and hear these wonderful sights and songs
for himself. To have pointed out the way thither will be the
source of my greatest gratification.

CHAKLES DIXON.

CONTENTS

The Migration of Birds ....

The Golden Eagle {Aqiiila chrysaetus)

The White-tailed Eagle {Haliaetus alhicilla)

The Osprey {Pandion haliaetus)
The Peregrine Falcon {Falco ijeregrinus) .

The Hobby {Falco suhbuteo) .

The ]Merlin (Falco cesalon) .

The CoiiMON Buzzard {Buteo vulgaris)

The Honey Buzzard {Pernis ajnvorus)

The Marsh Harrier {Circus ceruginosus)

The Hen Harrier {Circus cyaneus) .
The Wood Owl {Strix aluco)

The Long-eared Owl {Strix otus)

The Short-eared Owl {Strix hrachyotus)
The Eed-backed Shrike {Lanius collurio) .
The Nightingale {Erithacus luscinia)

The Pied Elycatcher {MnscicajM atricainlla)
The Reed Warbler {Acrocephalus arundinaceus)

The Marsh Warbler {Acroce2}halus ixdustris)
The Grasshopper Warbler and Dartford Warbler

{Locust ella locustella and Sylvia i^rovincialis)
The Nuthatch {Sitta cassia)
The Marsh Titmouse {Parus ixdustris)

The Crested Titmouse {Parus cristatus)

The Bearded Titmouse {Panurus hiarmicus)

PAGE
1

13
20
25
26
31
31
32
32
33
33
35
39
39
41
46
51
52
56

58
63
68
70
71

CONTENTS

The St. Kilda Wren (Troglodytes liirtensis)
The Gray Wagtail (Motacilla sulphurea)

The White W^agtail (Motacilla alba)
The Rock Pipit {Antlius ohscurus)
The Wood Lark {Alauda arbor ea)
The Girl Bunting and Snow Bunting {Emberiza cirlus

and E. nivalis)
The Hawfinch (Coccothraustes vulgaris)

The Tree Sparrow {Passer moiitanus)
The Siskin and Twite {Fringilla simius and F. flavirostris)
The Grossbill {Loxia curvirostra)
The Ghough (Pyrrhocorax graculus) .
The Raven {Corvus corax) .
The Hooded Grow {Corvus comix) .
The Green Woodpecker {Gecinus virio

The Lesser Spotted Woodpecker {Picus minor)
The Wryneck {Tpix torquilla)
The Nightjar {Gajjrimulgus euroimus)
The Rock Dove {Columba livia)
The Stock Dove {Columha cenas)

The Turtle Dove {Turtur auritm)
The Gapercaillie {Tetmo urogallus)
The Black Grouse {Tctrao tctrix) .
The Ptarmigan {Tctrao mutus)
The Red-legged Partridge {Perdix rnfa)

The Quail {Coturnix communis)
The Heron {Ardea cinerea) .
The Water-Rail {Rallus aquaticus) .

The Spotted Grake {Crex porzana)

Baillon's Grake {Crcx bailloni)
The Stone-Gurlew {(Edicnemus creintans)
The Oystercatcher {Hcematojms ostralegus) .

CONTENTS

PAGE

The Ringed Plover {CJiaradrius hiaticula) . . . 190

The Kentish Plover {CJiaradrius cantianus) . . 193

The Dotterel {Charadrius morinellus) . .194

The Golden Vloyy^k {Charadrius 'pluvialis) . . .196

The Redshank and Knot {Totanus calidris and Tringa canutus) 202

The Greenshank {Totanus glottis) . . . 206

The Dunlin and Phalarope {Tringa aljnna and Phalarojms

hijl^crhoreus) ...... 208

The Woodcock {Scoloimx rusticola) . . . .213

The 'Rjjy'E {Machetes imgnax) . . . ,218

The Curlew {Numenius arquatus) . . . .219

The ^Vruibrel {Xumenius 2ihceo2ms) . . . 225

The Common Tern and Arctic Tern {Sterna hirundo and

S. ardica) . . . . . .226

The Sandwich Tern and Lesser Tern {Sterna cantiaca and

S. minuta) . . . . . .232

The Black-headed Gull {Larus ridihundus) . .238

The Common Gull {Larus canus) .... 243

The Kittiwake {Larus tridadylus) . . . .247

The Herring Gull {Larus argentatus) . . .252

The Lesser Black-backed Gull {Larus fuscus) . . 256

The Great Black-backed Gull {Larus marinus) . 260

Richardson's Skua {Lestris richardsoni) . . 261

The Great Skua {Lestris catarrhactes) . . 262

The Puffin {Fratercula ardica) . . . .263

The Razorbill {Alca torda) . . . .268

The Guillemot {Alca troile) . . . .273

The Black Guillemot {Alca grylle) . . .278

The Red-throated Diver {Golymhus septentrionalis) . 279

The Black-throated Diver {Golymbus arcticus) . 280

The Little Grebe {Podiceps minor) . . . .281

The Great-crested Grebe {Podiceps cristatus) . 284

CONTENTS

The Manx Shearwater {Puffinus anglorum)

The Fulmar Petrel (Fidmarus glacialis)

The Stormy Petrel and Fork-tailed Petrel {Procellari

pelagica and P. leaclii) .
Geese (Anser cinerens, etc.) .
The Sheldrake {Tadorna cornuta)
The "Wild Duck {Anas boschas)

The Pintail {Anas acuta)

The Wigeon {A7ias r^enelojje)

The Teal {Anas crecca)

The Garganey {Anas circia)

The Shoveller {A^ias clijpeata)

The Pochard {Fuligula ferina)

The Tufted Duck {Ftdigula cristata)
The Eider Duck {Somateria mollissima)
The Red-breasted IVIerganser {Mergus serrator)

The Goosander {Mergits merganser) .
The Gannet (Sula hassana) . . . .

The Shag and Cormorant {Phalacrocorax graculus and P

carho) .....
The Philosophy op Birds' Nests and Eggs

PAGE

286
291

298
304
309
314
321
321
322
322
323
324
324
326
330
333
335

342
351

LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS

The St, Kilda AYrex

Fr

mtispiece

The Golden Eagle

12

The Peregrine Falcon

26

The Eed-backed Shrike .

41

The Nuthatch

63

The Gray Wagtail

76

The Hawfinch

96

The Crossbill

106

The Nightjar

135

The Black Grouse

155

The Water-Rail and Stone-Curlew

177

The Oystercatcher

185

The Golden Plover

196

The Woodcock

213

The Sandwich Tern and Lesser Tern

232

The Lesser Black-backed Gull .

256

The Razorbill

268

The Fork-tailed Petrel .

298

The Sheldrake

309

The Red-breasted Merganser

330

The Shag and Cormorant

342

OUE RARER BIRDS

THE MIGRATION OF BIEDS

Many of the birds we are about to meet, and whose habits
and economy it is our object to study, are either summer or
winter visitors to this country ; hence by way of introduction
I intend to devote a few of the opening pages of this volume
to that fascinating subject, the Migration of Birds.

Perhaps no other habit of birds has given rise to so much
difference of opinion, or been enshrouded with so much need-
less mystery, as their annual movements from place to place.
Little need be said on the supposed hibernation of birds — a
myth that was devoutly believed in years ago by many
accomplished field naturalists. Swallows especially were
thought to enter a long trance in autumn, burying themselves
in mud at the bottom of rivers and ponds or in holes of
buildino's and caves, wakino- into life a^ijain with the return
of spring. We know now that these birds are not ex-
ceptional in their movements, and regularly wing their way
to South Africa every autumn. If still further proof were
required, it may be found in the annual change of dress these
birds undergo. Swallows leave us in autumn in worn and
abraded plumage, not moulting before they migrate, as most
other birds do, and return in spring in all the splendour of
their wedding garments. Even the most casual observer of

1

OUR RARER BIRDS

birds is familiar with the migrations many of them under-
take. In the genial spring, when Nature is waking up from
her long wintery sleep, we all welcome back the stranger
Cuckoo as a long- lost friend, and greet the skimming
Swallows with feelings of unwonted pleasure. They are
harbingers of brighter skies, and warmer, longer days; of
music, flowers, and foliage ; in short, of all that invests a
northern summer with its fairest charm ! As the year rolls
on apace, bird after bird makes its appearance; from the
middle of boisterous March to the end of showery April
migration is in progress, and stranger after stranger is
suddenly but quietly returning to the haunts of its choice.
On moor and on mountain, in field and in wood, by the
stream and the shore, the summer birds are fast appearing,
and imbuing such scenes with joyous life.

What is Migration ? How has it been caused ? What

o

is its purpose ? In the old days the migratory movements
of birds were said to be influenced by impulses as mysterious
as they w^ere unchangeable. At their stated times birds
were thought to leave for their distant destinations, prompted
by mysterious instincts, with no chart or compass to guide
them ; reaching them unerringly, and just as unerringly
returnincr to their old haunts at the change of season.
Fortunately much sounder ideas prevail nowadays, and birds
are no longer regarded as automatic machines, but as
creatures endowed with life and mental qualities the same in
kind as man's, differing only in their degree of development.
Now we look upon migration as a habit that has been slowly
acquired, with many failures and many blunders, which has
been performed so often that it has become almost an
involuntary action, the result perhaps of unconscious
memory. For thousands of years these birds have performed
the journey to and fro — they know the road by heart. So
often have they and their ancestors repeated the migratory

THE MIGRATION OF BIRDS

movement, that perhaps its very cause is now forgotten, and
the journey is undertaken as a deeply-rooted habit.

How has Migration been caused ? Migration undoubtedly
had its origin in the last glacial epoch. Ages ago, when the
North Polar Eegions, instead of being realms of almost
eternal snow, were fertile lands clothed with semi-tropical
forests of tree-ferns, magnolias, walnuts, and camphor trees,
bird-life abounded in forest and plain, and by the shores of
sea and lake. These birds were probably residents ; no cause
for migration existed, the winters being mild enough to
furnish food for all. But this fair scene of Polar glory fades
away ! The earth gradually changes her position, and the
mighty ice-cap begins to form, driving all living creatures
southwards or causing them to perish. Birds deserted this
doomed land of promise and retired into Africa and India
and other southern lands before the mighty glaciers which
drifted southwards even as low as the Llediterranean. All
this, however, was a work of ages, and during this time the
habit of migration was doubtless acquired. As soon as this
glacial epoch passed its meridian, and the ice slowly drifted
back again, the birds returned farther and farther north
each summer, nearer and nearer to the pole, migrating to
their old quarters in the south for the winter. So, slowly
and gradually, as the ice drifted back again, and vegetation
once more crept northwards up the valleys and over the hills
and plains of this vast desolation, just as slowly and gradu-
ally the birds acquired their habits of migTation. With an
unquenchable love for their northern home — the land of their
birth — they strove each summer to get back again as near as
the ice allowed. Age after age the journey became longer
and longer, until it is as we know it now in the present day.
Water-birds naturally go farther north than land-birds, be-
cause their haunts are now much the same as of old ; but the
land-birds are practically confined to the limit of forest growth.

OUR RARER BIRDS

A word now as to the purpose of Migration. Migration
is undoubtedly undertaken for the purpose of obtaining
a necessary supply of food. Those birds that migrate must
either do so or starve. The Swallow and the Cuckoo,
and the army of soft-billed birds that come here with the
summer, would doubtless remain here if food were always to
be had ; but the moment the supply fails in autumn, back
they go to lands where insect-life is plentiful and winter is
unknown.

Birds pursue certain routes to and fro which it has doubt-
less been their custom to follow ever since the habit of
migration was acquired. These still continue to be traversed,
even though the practice involves a journey of many hundreds
of miles farther than is actually required 1 Tor instance,
many of the birds that migrate from Norway and Sweden,
and even from Northern Eussia, cross to our islands over the
wild North Sea, instead of keeping to the continental coast-
line. Others travel to certain winter quarters in remote
parts of the world, from ignorance of the way to those much
nearer and in every way suited to their requirements. Thus
the Eustic Bunting and the Arctic "Willow Wren come every
summer as far west as Scandinavia, but return every autumn
to India, China, and even the remote Malay Archipelago;
and on the other hand, the Eed-footed Falcon (a bird which
has occasionally been met with in the British Islands), which
breeds as far east as Central Siberia, is only known to winter
in Africa 1 The wonderful interest attaching to these extra-
ordinary migrations can only be fully realised when the
routes of these little birds are traced upon a map. The ex-
planation of these singular movements is to be found in the
fact that when these birds were driven southwards by the
glacial epoch, they sought shelter in the countries to which
they still unerringly return, although, since they have been
able to get back north again, they have increased their

THE MIGRATION OF BIRDS 5

summer range either in an easterly or westerly direction.
The Arctic Willow Wren and the Eustic Bunting, on the one
hand, do not know of Africa ; the Eed-footed Falcon, on the
other, is ignorant of the groves and plains and perpetual
summer of India ! A still more extraordinary instance is to
be found in the Arctic Tern. This bird is found in summer
right round the polar basin, having spread east and west from
the shores of the Atlantic ; but in autumn the birds that have
actually bred on the shores of the Pacific come back again
over thousands of miles of land and water, across the con-
tinents of Asia and North America to the southern portions
of the Atlantic to spend the winter — being ignorant of the
fact that the Southern Pacific is just as suitable to their
wants ! This persistence in following an old familiar route,
and in seeking the usual winter home, must cause the death
of many birds every season. Birds are apt to lose their way
just as human travellers do, and take the wrong route which
brings them to lands where they are looked upon as great
rarities. Many such birds visit our country from time to
time in spring and autumn. In spring the migration is
almost universally from south to north ; and such birds as
lioUers, Bee-Eaters, White Herons, and Vultures occasionally
come too far and wander to Great Britain with the stream of
our accustomed migrants. In autumn the course is from
north to south in the majority of instances ; but there is a
considerable migration from east to west at this season, which
sometimes brings us such distinguished visitors as the JSTeedle-
tailed Swift, the White-winged Lark, and the Yellow-browed
W^arbler — strangers from Siberian steppes and forests, which
have lost their way and joined the throng of birds whose
usual course lies in this direction.

Birds choose many different highways in their journeys
to and fro. Some follow coast-lines, others start boldly across
the sea ; many journey down great river valleys, or through

OUR RARER BIRDS

lofty mountain passes ; whilst others wing their w^ay through
the very loftiest air. Many of these flight routes, or "fly-
lines," are extremely complicated, and the road taken by one
species is often crossed at right angles by that taken by another.
Many species seem to follow the direction of ancient coast-
lines, now lying buried under the ocean ; and this fact may
account for so many birds crossing the North Sea to this
country, and then heading southwards across the English
Channel again. Vast numbers of birds pass our coasts in
their great northern or southern journey every season ; and
many of our own birds fly direct south till they reach the
English Channel, and then pass along the coast and downs from
Lands End to Dover before they cross the sea and follow the
continental coast-line to Africa. Most birds perform their
migrations, especially in spring, very quickly ; and I am of
opinion that they fly at enormous altitudes, far beyond the
range of human vision, through the stratum of rarefied air
which makes their progress easy, and also assists them
materially in their topography.

The migration of birds is most marked in autumn. In
spring they come singly or in little parties, and pass as
rapidly as possible from place to place ; but in autumn many
species gather into enormous flocks for the purpose. Who
has not seen the Swallows gathered in fluttering thousands
on the late September days, when the autumnal tints are
creeping over the trees and hedges ? Who has not watched
the vast flocks of wading birds gathered together for the
purpose of journeying in company ? How many times do we
pause to admire a little party of Pipits, or Chats, restlessly
flying southwards ; or a company of Goldcrests all eagerly
speeding away ? Many birds join flocks of a different species
to migrate with them ; others always fly in pairs ; others,
again, in family groups. Some birds separate into sexes to
migrate, the males being the first to arrive in spring and

THE MIGRATION OF BIRDS

the last to leave in autumn. AVith many species the
young birds are the first to migrate, the old birds staying
behind until they have completed their moult, although
a few old birds are always in their company and serve
the purpose of guides. In autumn most birds travel
leisurely, staying here and there a day or so to rest them-
selves and eat where food may chance to be abundant ;
in spring they seem intent on getting to their summer haunts
as quickly as possible. Some birds always migrate by day ;
others just as surely wing their way under the cover of dark-
ness ; whilst many journey by day as well as by night.
During the hours of night vast numbers of birds are attracted
to the various lighthouses on the sea-coasts, especially in
cloudy weather, when they seem to lose their bearings and fly
towards the nearest visible object. Xo pen can do justice to
the wonderful sights which may often be witnessed at some
of these lighthouses, especially in autumn. The moon is
shining brightly in a cloudless sky ; not a bird is in sight ;
not a sound is heard. Suddenly a bank of clouds spreads over
the heavens, and soon afterwards just as suddenly a vast army
of migratory birds make their appearance. Birds of many
different species are flying in company. Skylarks have
fraternised with Owls, and Eedwings and Fieldfares are
mixed up with Goldcrests and big lumbering Herons. The
lantern is viojnetted in a sea of flutterino- birds ; some of them
crowd upon the railings and the balcony of the lighthouse ;
others beat and flutter against the glass. But as soon as the
sky is clear again and the moon sheds light upon the sea and
land, the little voyagers pass on, rising to the highest air,
where doubtless many old familiar landmarks point out the
southern course this feathered army is bent on taking. It is
a grand imposing sight to watch this autumn flight of bird-
life. I have often seen the air for days full of birds of many
species coming from over the sea ; and at night many a low

OUR RARER BIRDS

scream or warbling cry has told me that the feathered hosts
were still passing on. Some of our inland districts are
evidently in the direct line of flight of many migratory birds.
Flocks of Goldcrests or Song Thrushes, for mstance, often
make their appearance in certain woods or fields every season,
stay a few days, and then as rapidly disappear. There is
much evidence to show^ that the mountain ranges which
form the backbone of England and Wales are the great " fly-
line" of many migratory birds; and I am of opinion that
birds are guided to a great extent in their journeys to and
fro by lofty ranges of hills.

A word as to the destination of these migratory birds.
By far the greater number that pass either along our
coasts or from our islands every autumn are on their way to
Africa. This sultry continent is the grand winter-home of
most of the migratory birds of Europe ; but some few species
only get as far south as the northern shores of the Mediter-
ranean. Singularly enough those birds that go the farthest
north in spring retire the farthest south in winter, and this
applies equally to individuals as to species. Birds also must
have wonderful powers of judging time, for rarely do we see
them back as^ain in their accustomed haunts before the usual
period of their appearance has arrived. Should they chance
to come too early and find their usual food scarce, they
generally wander south again. The migration of birds is
beset with many perils. Of the millions of birds that leave us
in autumn but a small percentage survive the dangers of the
two long journeys and appear again in spring. The greatest
mortality is among the young and inexperienced. Thousands
perish at sea — too tired to fly across the waste of waters that
separates them from land ; thousands are devoured by the
hungry Hawks that follow in the wake of the great migrating
army. Many perish from want of food ; others fall victims
to various predatory creatures as soon as they reach land

THE MIGRATION OF BIRDS

tired and feeble after their long pilgrimage. Sometimes in
autumn migratory birds appear in unwonted numbers, having
been detained by contrary winds or rough weather till the
flocks assumed enormous dimensions — all waiting for the
first favourable moment when the journey can be resumed.
Many birds, eminently solitary in their habits at all other
times, become gregarious or sociable during the periods of
mio-ration. Hawks and Falcons often unite into flocks to

o

migrate ; so do Woodcocks, Snipes, and Owls.

Migration is of many kinds, and almost every species of
bird is subject to its influence more or less. In some countries
the great migration takes place to and from the mountains to
the plains ; in others many birds journey from the coasts to
inland districts, or from the wide ocean to the land, or from
the woods to more open localities. This may readily be
observed, even in our own land. The Meadow Pipit and the
Twite migrate from mountain to lowland according to season ;
the Dunlin and the Golden Plover may be cited as instances
of birds migrating from the coast to inland moors ; the
Guillemot and Puffin, the Gannet and Cormorant, from the
sea to the rocks and islands. Even such birds as the Black-
bird and the Eobin change their ground a good deal with the
changing season ; and most other species do the same.
Some species that are regular migrants in the north of
Scotland are residents in the milder climate of England.
Birds too are very apt to increase their range if circum-
stances are favourable. The Rook is gradually spreading
northwards and westwards with the planting of trees ; so
too is the Missel-Thrush ; and as many wild districts come
under the reclaimino: hands of the aoriculturist, various
smaller birds increase their range, at the expense of their
shyer and larger congeners, to whom reclamation and im-
provement from man's point of view means banishment and
ruin from theirs. Excess of population also causes birds

lo OUR RARER BIRDS

to spread into new districts. Birds sometimes increase too
rapidly, under exceptional conditions, and have to wander
forth in quest of fresh haunts ; as, for instance, the remarkable
irruption of Pallas's Sand-Grouse that spread into Western
Europe from Siberian steppes some five -and -twenty years
ago, and again during the spring of the present year.

A word should also be given to the gipsy migrants. These
are birds like the Snow Bunting and the Shore Lark, which
have no regular winter home, and only wander southwards as
far as the frost compels them. They are for ever trying to get
north, and just as frequently being driven back again with
each recurring frost or storm. They may justly be called the
nomads of the polar regions, able to subsist upon any seed or
bud that may be left exposed above the snow.

The migratory movements of birds are interesting in the
extreme. Their arrival is the harbinger of spring; their
departure the unfailing sign of winter's advent. But of
higher interest still are all the causes and influences which
prompt and govern these various migratory movements. We
see the woods all radiant with opening leaf and fragrant bloom
suddenly become tenanted with these little wanderers from
sunny southern lands — delicate little creatures many of them,
whose bodies would scarcely fill a good-sized thimble ; yet we
know those frail little feathered travellers have crossed the
land and sea for many thousands of miles — they are fresh
from the palm trees and glorious wealth of tropical verdure
far away in the soft lovely south. The terrors and the perils
of the long journey are soon forgotten — like dreams they
pass away ; and songs of sweetest cadence pour joyously
from their little throats. In autumn's balmy days we see
these migrants preparing for their long journey. There are
young birds now to make that journey with them. All is
eager excitement to be gone. The browning leaves and
mournful winds of autumn, the first white frosts and cool

THE MIGRATION OF BIRDS ii

nights, sternly bid these little travellers depart. As we
watch them flitting restlessly about from twig to twig, or
congregating in merry flocks on buildings and telegraph wires,
we think of their early departure with regret, and from the
bottom of our hearts we wish them a speedy and a safe
return.

THE GOLDEN EAGLE.

THE GOLDEN EAGLE

{Aiiuila chrysaetus)

As the Crane and the Bustard have been exterminated
from the lowland fens and wolds, the Golden Eagle has
been finally banished from English woods and crags, and
must now be classed amongst the rarest of our British birds.
True, a year scarce passes without one or two of these birds
venturing over the border from their native mountains to
more lowland scenes ; but their fate is certain, and it is only a
question of time before their murder is duly recorded in some
local newspaper. The Golden Eagle is one of the noblest of
the birds of prey, and by repute certainly the best known.
It is not, however, the good fortune of every lover of bird-life
to have the opportunity of seeing this noble bird at home ;
I will therefore ask the reader to accompany me in imagina-
tion to the distant glens and mountains of the north, where
I will endeavour to show him the Golden Eagle in its native
wilds.

We must leave the haunts of man and his industries far
behind us and penetrate into wilds where nature reigns
supreme, ere we can hope to meet with this noble bird. The
home of the Eagle is amongst the last remnants of primeval
Britain. Where he lives the mountains tower on every side,
their summits generally hid in cloud-banks or tipped with snow
of brilliant whiteness. Eocky glens, wild streams, and broad
stretches of moorland waste, above which Curlews and Plovers

14 OUR RARER BIRDS

scream, lend a charm to the Eagles' haunt. The wilderness is
varied by a deep clear mountain loch, a birch coppice, a deer
forest, a boggy waste ; or its desolation and dreariness is un-
broken where big gray rocks, bare hills, and dark frowning
glens are on every side in vast monotony. It must not be
supposed, however, that even in such secluded fastnesses as
these the Golden Eagle is a common bird. You may wander
up and down such romantic country for days and days together
without once having the good fortune to meet with him. He is
a great wanderer, often from home, and explores wide expanses
of country in his daily search for food. Sometimes you may
come across him as he sits silent and motionless on some
lofty crag, where his keen eye is ever on the alert for danger ; or
more frequently he is seen high in air soaring in boundless
freedom over the mountains and the heaths, gliding round
and round in wide circles and searching the ground below, or
on regular beat of wing hastening to his nest and his mate in
some distant glen. There is something majestic about the
flight of this noble bird. In ever widening circles he sometimes
glides round and round high in air with only a few occasional
beats of his long ample wings. Frequently he glides straight
ahead, seeming to swim or rather float through the air. Anon
he poises like a huge Kestrel and surveys the ground below ;
then with regular beats of his broad wings passes away into
the blue distance that encircles the hills. Many a time and
oft the Eagle is mobbed in his trackless course by smaller
yet more courageous birds. You may sometimes see the
Eaven or the Hooded Crow buffet him in the air, should he
pass too near their rocky homes ; whilst Swallows and Meadow
Pipits attracted by curiosity often flit and flutter round him
as he sails alongj.

All the birds of prey are capable of going without food
for a considerable length of time — a practice which often
serves the Golden Eagle in good stead when his prey is

THE GOLDEN EAGLE 15

scarce. But when food is abundant on the hillsides he is
truly a voracious feeder, and levies a costly tribute on the
sheep-farms. I have known him take as many as thirty-
five lambs from one Highland sheep-farm alone in a single
season. The mountain or blue hare which lives among the
barren stony summits of the hills is a favourite quarry ; the
Blackcock and the Eed Grouse which crow so merrily from
the fern brakes and the heather are taken unawares ; as are
also the Plovers and the Curlews which visit the upland
moors to rear their young. When hard pressed for food he not
unfrequently makes a meal on carrion, and is often taken in
the shepherds' traps when baited with a dead lamb or hare.
Nothing comes amiss to this bold freebooter, especially when
its young are hatched — anything in the shape of flesh is borne
eagerly away. The Golden Eagle is extremely fond of bathing ;
and I have sometimes seen him stand for half an hour or more
in a pool of water and scatter it over his plumage.

The Golden Eagle is one of the first birds to see about
nestine^ duties. Winter still rei^^^ns amono'st the mountains
when this noble bird begins to build his nest, and the eggs are
often laid when the moors and hills are buried deep in snow.
He evidently times the date of his operations to a nicety ; for
the lambing season is at its height when his young are being
reared and a plentiful supply of food is obtainable. I am of
opinion that Golden Eagles pair for life. For years and
years the same locality is frequented by a pair of birds.
Each season the old nest is renovated and patched up, or a
new nest entirely is built close to the remains of the old one.
An inland site is generally selected, on the precipitous
sides of some lonely glen or on a ledge of a beetling crag
amongst the mountains, but sometimes a shelf on the ocean
cliffs is chosen. Stray with me to the wild cliffs that over-
hang the tempestuous Minch on the west coast of Skye.
Here the Golden Eagle still breeds in one or two chosen

1 6 OUR RARER BIRDS

localities, and here we can still study the nesting economy of
this fast disappearing species. As we wander over the breezy
hillsides bird-life in abundance may be seen. Carrion Crows
and Hoodies rise from the short turf, or fly from the rocks and
circle high in air above our heads ; Skylarks soaring to the
clouds trill forth their sweetest strains ; Herring Gulls and
Kittiwakes keep up a noisy clamour as we near the sea-cliffs ;
Oystercatchers utter their shrill whistle as they fly along the
shore from one shingly point to another ; whilst farther in-
land the notes of the Curlew are sounding distinctly but
faintly from the moors. The bleating of lambs high up
the* hills and the barking of (Jogs mingle with the dull roar
of the water hundreds of feet below. Every step the
cliffs become higher and steeper, more rugged, more pic-
turesque, until at last we are startled from our quiet contem-
plations by the shrill barking cry of the Eagle as he sweeps
proudly and defiantly from the cliffs below. The morning
sun glances on the yellow feathers of his head and neck,
making them glow like burnished gold, and his dark plumage
shows almost black against the blue water. Flying once or
twice round and round, and swooping rapidly past the face of
the cliff, he surveys our unwelcome intrusion. He soon flies
out to sea, probably to the distant shores of Uist, leaving us to
storm his mountain home. The nest is built in the highest
portion of the cliffs, where a good look-out can be obtained
and where the rocks are truly terrible in their rugged
grandeur. Six hundred feet above an ever-restless sea they
tower, partly in sloping grassy downs, broken here and there
by precipices, and partly in a beetling rock. Ear down on the
water Guillemots and PufQns gambol and bob about like
corks, and Gulls stand motionless on the rocks. Primroses
and seapinks cluster thickly on the cliffs, and in every nook
and crevice the delicate spleenwort fern sends up its beautiful
fronds in rare luxuriance. The Eagles' eyrie, in use for years.

THE GOLDEN EAGLE 17

is built in one of the most inaccessible parts of the cliffs — a
little grass-covered recess about halfway down the precipice
where the rocks overhang and form a natural roof to the nest.
A careful climb of some four hundred feet brings us to with-
in about thirty yards of the nest, which the aid of a rope
lowered from above enables us to reach. The nest is a clumsy
structure several feet across, wedged into the rock niche and
resting on a narrow platform. It is made of heather stems
and sticks, not very intricately interwoven, though very
compact and solid. The cavity is somewhat shallow, and
composed of dead fern leaves, dry grass, and moss, and a few
tufts of green herbage. On it rest the Eaglets, clothed in
white down amongst which the feathers are fast appearing.
With snapping beaks they scramble to the farthest side of
the nest, and there huddled together pay but little heed to our
intrusion. All round the nest are abundant evidences of the
care and assiduity of the parent birds — bones picked clean,
fur and feathers ; the remains of lambs and hares and a dead
Grouse. What a grand and impressive scene is presented to
our view — how w^ild, yet withal how beautiful ! How complete
the picture of rock and sea — how harmonious the surround-
ings with the young Eagles and their rude home ! It makes
us feel thankful we are ornithologists and able to realise and
rightly enjoy the poetry of such a scene as this. Long may the
Golden Eagle haunt the wild cliffs and glens and mountains of
this rugged shore ! for as long as he lives amongst them the
crowning object of their beauty is ensured. A bird so closely
associated with the Scotch must be spared the fate of igno-
minious extinction which threatens it. The lambs and fawns
and Grouse the Eagles take are but a cheap price to pay for such
an ornament to so wild a land. Before it be too late let the
Scotch protect their national bird — the Eagle of their ancestors.
Let them stay the cruel war so ruthlessly waged against this
handsome bird — a war that bids fair to play its part but too

2

OUR RARER BIRDS

surely, and take the Eagle from their glens and their mount-
ains for ever.

The eggs of the Golden Eagle are from one to three in
number, two being the usual clutch. They vary much in
colour, and generally one of the eggs in a clutch is remarkably
plain ; although occasionally both are marked in the same
degree. They are dull white in ground colour, sometimes
with the faintest possible tinge of green, spotted, blotched,
and freckled with rich reddish-brown and pale violet-gray.
Some eggs are almost uniform dull white without a marking
of any kind, others have the blotches and spots nearly confluent
round the larger end. Others are finely vermiculated and
sprinkled wdth minute brown spots over the entire surface ;
and occasionally the markings are few but large, irregular,
and boldly defined. They also vary considerably in size and
shape, even in the same nest. The female Eagle performs
most of the task of incubating the eggs, but the male will
take his turn upon them. Should the female be trapped,
as unfortunately is too often the case, the male will hatch
the eggs and rear the young himself. Incubation commences
as soon as the first egg is laid. When the young can fly,
their parents hunt in company with them for a little time,
but they are soon deserted and quit the neighbourhood of
their birth for ever. At this time of the year Grouse and
leverets form their principal food.

When nesting on inland cliffs the Golden Eagle invariably
selects a place where a good look-out can be obtained, but
sometimes the eyrie can be reached with little difficulty. As
a rule it is built in parts of the cliff that overhang, so that it
is completely inaccessible. Eagles' nests are never built close
together — one pair of birds appear to take possession of a
wide range of country which they regard exclusively as
theirs, and from which all outsiders are banished. The
saying, " A pair of Eagles to a mountain," might have been

THE GOLDEN EAGLE

true when the birds were common, but now a pair of
Eagles have undisturbed possession of a whole range of hills,
and many are the mountain districts of the north where
imagination might picture an Eagle on every crag, that are
as completely deserted as the lowlands of the south.

The Golden Eagle is a resident in the British Islands, but
in autumn and winter he often wanders far from home.
Eood is often scarce when the hills are deep in snow. The
Ptarmigan and the mountain hares don their white winter
coat which makes them inconspicuous amongst the snow,
and hard to see even by an Eagle's piercing eye. The lambs
are grown too big to be mastered with impunity, and carrion
is scarce. At such times the Eagle wanders lower down the
hills and visits the sheltered glens and valleys, sometimes
taking a meal from the poultry-yard, or playing sad havoc
amongst the game.

THE WHITE-TAILED EAGLE

(Haliaetus albicilla)

The White-tailed Eagle or Sea Eagle is a mncli commoner
bird than the preceding species, and one that is very fre-
quently confounded with it. It may be readily distinguished
by its naked tarsi, those of the Golden Eagle being feathered
to the toes. Like that bird it is now an inhabitant of the
wildest districts only. Persecution has driven it from the
precipitous coasts and freshwater lakes of England, but in
the remote Highlands it still survives, and a pair may be
generally met with on most of the inland lochs, or on the
bold headlands of this rockbound land. It is much more of
a maritime bird than the Golden Eagle, although it is just
as much at home amongst the mountains that look down
into the inland lakes. To study the habits and economy of
this handsome bird w^e must visit some of the wildest and
the grandest scenery our islands can boast. W^e must seek
him in the brown heathery solitudes of the northern mount-
ains, and among the lonely islands that stud the sea along
the wild west coast of Scotland. Broad stretches of moor-
land, towering rocks piled one upon the other in endless
confusion, sea-girt cliffs which rise sheer from the restless
waves hundreds of feet below; secluded lochs and romantic
glens down wdiich mountain torrents leap from boulder to
boulder — these are the haunts of the White-tailed Eagle. In
spite of the price set upon its head, and notwithstanding the

THE WHITE-TAILED EAGLE

incessant persecution to which it is subjected by shepherds
and gamekeepers, this handsome bird continues to hold its
own, and in these wild districts does not appear to become
any rarer. I have seen the heads and feet of this bird nailed
in dozens to the kennel doors, in company with one or two
of those of the Golden Eagle, and numbers of Eavens, Buz-
zards, and Peregrines. Passing sad it is to see such rare and
beautiful birds destroyed so wantonly.

In this country no birds are more difficult to approach
closely than the Eagles ; but in ISTorthern Africa, where man's
presence bodes no danger, I have frequently passed them
almost at arm's length. It is difficult therefore to examine
their actions very closely without the aid of a glass. Then
the birds may often be watched as they sit and sun them-
selves on the rock pinnacles and shelves, often with feathers
puffed out, or wings half-spread and drooping. They love to
bask in the sun, and often sit for hours scanning from their
lofty perch the wide panorama of moor and sea and lake that
spreads before them, and ever ready to sail swiftly off should
prey of any kind be descried. In his flight the White-tailed
Eagle very closely resembles the Golden Eagle, but perhaps
his actions are a trifle more laboured and Buzzard-like.
Sometimes he mounts slowly upwards in wide curves,
sailing with wings almost motionless and fully expanded, and
the tips of the quill feathers slightly recurved. Sometimes
a pair of birds may be seen in early spring high up in the
blue sky looking like specks, slowly sailing round and round
far above their eyrie on the rocks below. At this season
they often gambol in the air, buffet each other, and engage in
various freaks of flight, uttering at intervals their shrill yelping
cry. I have seen two rival birds engage in aerial combat, and
the way in which they turn and twist is truly marvellous.
Their powers of flight are also exhibited to perfection when they
try to drive off some small Hawk, Gull, or Crow that delighted

OUR RARER BIRDS

in mobbing them. Like the Golden Eagle, the present species
wanders far and wide in search of prey. Except in the pairing
and breeding season, the White-tailed Eagle is for the most part
a solitary bird, but each pair usually frequents the neighbour-
hood of its eyrie throughout the year. The young birds are the
greatest wanderers. Driven from their birthplace by theirparents,
they often stray southwards into England and the lowlands,
where they wage an incessant war on the rabbits and water-fowl.
The White-tailed Eagle's food is varied. It preys upon
almost all birds and animals that its superior prowess
enables it to master. It will carry off the newly -dropped
weakly lambs and fawns ; it chases the blue hares, rabbits,
and Grouse on the moors and mountains, and is an adept at
hunting down any wounded bird or animal. But so far
as my own observations of this bird extend, I have found
it most partial to carrion. It loves to beat lazily along the
beach in quest of stranded iish or any other garbage the
waves may chance to cast ashore, and in the inland districts
a dead sheep or deer is a welcome prize. I once saw a
White -tailed Eagle drop down on to a drowned sheep, on
which a number of Crows and a few Gulls were feeding.
He surveyed the dead animal for some time at a considerable
height, flying round and round before he alighted on the
ground a few yards away, and then leaped forward to his
meal. The Crows made off a little way as he approached,
and the Gulls fluttered buoyantly upwards to hover above,
or alighted on the beach, patiently awaiting his departure.
A shepherd whistling to his dogs on the cliffs close by
alarmed him, however, and he rose into the air with a
piece of flesh in his talons, leaving the Gulls and Crows in
undisturbed possession. The White-tailed Eagle is said to
capture living fish, something after the manner of the Osprey ;
but how the bird accomplishes the feat it is hard to con-
jecture, unless, when flying very low over the waves, he

THE WHITE-TAILED EAGLE 23

snatches the fish basking on the surface and conveys them
to land to be devoured at leisure. When carrion is scarce
he has to seek for other food, and captures the Ducks and
Water-fowl, stealing on them unawares. Daily he may be
seen in one particular tree watching the bustling crowd of
Ducks on the water, and patiently waiting in the hope that
they will rise and offer an easy chance of capture.

There can be no doubt that the AVhite-tailed Eagle pairs
for life. Season after season the same nest is used, beino-
patched up and renovated every spring. The breeding season
is early, but as a rule a little later than that of the Golden
Eagle. In exceptionally early years I have known its eggs
to be laid by the middle of March, whilst in backward
seasons they are not laid before April. The site for the nest
differs a good deal, and depends greatly upon the character-
istics of the bird's haunt. Where rocks are scarce and low
the nest is often built in some large tree, or if rocks and trees
are both absent, some small island in a quiet lake amongst
the hills is selected. But the usual situation is on the
stupendous cliffs, especially those which overhang the sea. I
know of eyries that are absolutely inaccessible, and the birds
have reigned in undisturbed possession of them for years.
During the breeding season the old birds may be seen daily
sailing high in air above their ancient stronghold — a fitting
ornament to its rugged splendour. It may only be the
witching force of fancy, but to my mind the cliffs that con-
tain an Eagle's nest seem the grandest in the whole district,
and the ones from wdiich the best view can be obtained.
Whilst standing in this White-tailed Eagle's nest, let me try
and convey to the reader a little of the charm that surrounds
it. Ear down below are the green w^aters of the restless
sea. On every side and towering far above our heads are
the beetling cliffs, crag beyond crag, clothed with greenest
herbage, and here and there broken up into grassy banks. On

24 OUR RARER BIRDS

these banks the seapinks and primroses are full of bloom, lend-
ing a delicious fragrance to the bracing air. On yonder stack of
rocks the male Eagle sits and barks forth defiance at our in-
trusion, although too timid to show his displeasure in a more
marked degree. The female Eagle, too, must be included in
the picture. She is high in air above our heads, ever and
anon descending lower and sweeping past the face of the cliff
well out of gunshot, and showing her anger by thrusting out
her legs and opening her sharp talons. The ledge on which
I am standing is scattered with large bones of the various fish
that have been conveyed here ; and just on the edge of the
nest are a few Puffins' feet and an entire beak of that bird,
whilst on every side are to be seen castings and droppings of
the old Eagles. The nest is a bulky structure, the accumulation
of years, flat in form, and about five feet across. It is made of
sticks of various thicknesses, not very intricately interwoven,
although firm in texture, a branch or two of heather, some of
them with the leaves still green upon them, others worn and
bleached, and a few pieces of seaweed. The lining is composed
of grass, a few leaves of the sea-campion, a tuft or two of wool,
and some bits of turf, on which the two eggs lie so temptingly.
Many nests of the White -tailed Eagle are very slight,
in some cases little more than a hollow scratched out in the
soft soil on some rock ledge. The eggs are almost always
two in number ; in some very rare instances three have been
found, but usually one of them is bad. They are on an
average slightly smaller than those of the Golden Eagle, from
which they are readily distinguished by the absence of all
colouring matter, and their much rougher texture. Both birds
appear to assist in hatching the eggs, but the female performs
the neatest share of the task. The sittincj bird is tended
carefully by its mate, and if one of the birds be destroyed, the
survivor speedily finds a new companion — a peculiarity com-
mon to most raptorial birds. The young remain in the nest

THE WHITE-TAILED EAGLE 25

until they are able to fly, a period of quite six weeks, and
after that they are still tended by their parents for some time.

The White -tailed Eagle only rears one brood in the
season, and if the first clutch of eggs be taken another is
usually laid. I am of opinion that many White-tailed Eagles
visit us every autumn from Northern Europe, and that most
of the birds seen during winter in England are individuals
that have left their arctic haunts as soon as food became scarce.

Let us now give a passing word to what is perhaps the
rarest of our raptorial birds, the Osprey {Pandion lialiaetus).
Its numbers have so far decreased that now only one or
two pairs return to their nesting sites, and these are in the
wildest and most secluded portions of the Highlands. The
Osprey's powerful feet and enormous claws, long wings, brown
upper parts and white under parts (except the nape, which is
white streaked with brown, and the upper breast, which is
banded with brown), are its distinguishing characters. It is
a summer mio-rant to Scotland, and durin^i^ the two seasons of
passage is often observed in England. Its food is exclusively
composed of fish, which it strikes at and catches with its
powerful claws. I have seen this bird plunge with amazing
force into the Highland lochs in chase of fish. In many of
its habits it resembles the White-tailed Eagle. It makes a
bulky nest of sticks and turf, lined with grass, which is added
to and repaired every season, either on the topmost branches
of a pine tree, or on some ruin, especially if situated on an
island. The eggs are two or three in number and remarkably
beautiful, being yellowish-white, boldly blotched and spotted
and marbled with deep reddish-brown, purplish-brown, or
orange-red. The female hatches the eggs, the male supplying
her with food. The flight of the Osprey is powerful and long
sustained. It may often be seen for half an hour or more
gliding to and fro through the highest air, far above the grand
old forests or the wide waste of silent waters.

THE PEEEGEINE FALCON

{Falco j^eregrinus)

The Peregrine Falcon is another of our rarer birds, which,
in spite of incessant persecution, still manages to hold its own,
although it is only found in the wildest and most inaccessible
districts. In the days of falconry the Peregrine, preserved
and cherished, was the daily companion of nobles and princes :
now it is nothing but an outcast, exterminated from most
cultivated and inland localities, and driven to the wild fast-
nesses on our rockbound coasts. We generally meet with
him near the stupendous cliffs tenanted by countless sea-birds,
which furnish this bold Falcon with abundant food. He is a
thorough bird of the open, seldom frequenting woodland dis-
tricts, always preferring the moors and mountain sides, where he
can swoop down with lightning speed upon the unsuspecting
birds and animals. The Peregrine sometimes shows a strange
partiality for houses and cities ; and I have known many
instances of this bird taking up his quarters in some church

THE PEREGRINE FALCON 27

tower in a noisy town, from which he sallied forth in quest
of Pigeons. Few birds are safe from this bold Falcon ; but
should he chance to miss his mark, he seldom follows up the
chase. I have seen him strike at Plovers and Ducks, which
by a sudden twist have eluded his talons, and he has con-
tinued his flight, as if too dignified to return to the pursuit.
It is an interesting sight to watch this graceful bird's aerial
movements. I love to wait for him amongst the tall heather
on the summit of the rocks, or halfway down a noble preci-
pice rising sheer from the sea, where, unobserved, I can watch
his movements with the greatest ease. How gracefully he
glides through the air, or sails round and round in ever widen-
in o^ circles, scannino^ the f^round below him. Then sometimes
I see him dart swiftly down and alight on a rock, where he
sits motionless, or turns his head suspiciously from side to
side, as if half-conscious of my whereabouts. Every now and
then he half-opens his wings as if about to fly, and as the
shadows lengthen and darkness creeps slowly up the hill-
sides, he finally goes off to his accustomed roosting -place
amongst the rocks.

I often lincjer near the colonies of sea-fowl to watch the
darincr Peremne. In some localities these birds are his
favourite food. In fact, a pair of Peregrines can generally be
met with in all the large colonies of sea-fowl. Often, when I
have been watching the habits of the Guillemots and Puf&ns,
this bold robber has swooped down like a bolt from the sky,
and carried off one of my little favourites before I could well
realise what had taken place. At his appearance the scene
changes as by magic. Tumultuous uproar and confusion
reign where a moment before all was quietness and peace.
The birds swimming on the sea dive with the rapidity of
thought, those on the rocks huddle together panic-stricken at
the dread visitor's presence. One of their number leaves his
little life in the air and is carried triumphantly off, and with

28 OUR RARER BIRDS

the Falcon's departure the terrified birds soon regain their
accustomed tranquillity. It is also a noteworthy fact that the
sea-birds display very little concern or alarm when the Pere-
grine is indulging in aerial gambols above their rocky haunts.
I have often seen Puffins sitting on the cliffs, not a stone's
throw from the dread destroyer, and the Terns and Gulls un-
heeding fly to and fro before his perching-place on the cliffs.
But he heeds them not — his hunger is already satisfied. The
Peregrine is generally a very silent bird, and rarely utters a
sound except when its nest is menaced by danger ; then it is
noisy enough, and flies anxiously to and fro uttering a loud
chattering cry.

The Peregrine feeds on those birds and animals which
its great speed and strength enable it to capture. It rarely
molests small birds, leaving them for the IMerlin and
the Sparrow-hawk, and generally confines its attention to
such species as Grouse, Pigeons, small Gulls, Guillemots,
Puffins, Ducks, and Plovers. This fare is varied by an occa-
sional leveret or barn-door fowl, and quantities of rabbits.
I have never known the Peregrine eat carrion, and, so far
as my observations extend, it always feeds on birds and
animals which it has caught itself. The indigestible portions
of its food are cast up in pellets, and the head and big bones
of its victims are generally discarded. As is the case with
most birds of prey, the Peregrine has some particular spot to
which it conveys its captives, where it can eat them undis-
turbed. These places are strewn with feathers, bones, and
fur, and are often used by the same bird for years. In the
autumn months Peregrines follow the great armies of migrat-
ing birds to prey upon the weakly, the weary, and the unwary.
In this manner they often wander far from their usual haunts,
and frequently take up their abode on low-lying shores, where
the wildfowl congregate. Except in the breeding season the
Peregrine is for the most part a solitary bird.

THE PEREGRINE FALCON 29

The Peregrine is an early breeder, and in my opinion is a
life-paired species. For years and years the same nesting-
site is tenanted, and certain localities for time out of mind
have been known to. possess their pair of birds. As if
conscious of the persecution it receives from man, the
Peregrine generally contrives to make its nest in places
almost inaccessible. The pair of Peregrines, for instance,
that frequent the Bass Eock have chosen an admirable
situation in the lofty cliffs. Here they evidently possess
several nesting -places, using them alternately. When I
visited this nest in ^lay, the birds had selected a dangerous
bit of cliff several hundred feet above the water. As soon
as I got near the top of the cliff, the female dashed rapidly
out from the nest, uttering her usual chattering cry of alarm,
which soon brought the cock bird into view^ As I was
lowered into the nest the scene around was most impressive.
Par down below, in the dizzy a^vful depths, I could see the
Guillemots and Puffins gamboling in the water at the base of
the cliffs, looking like specks of foam ; wdiilst the Gannets
in thousands were flying to and fro, ever and anon passing
by me almost within arm's length, their beautiful white
plumage glistening in the sunlight, and their harsh grating
cries adding to the charm of the scene. As I descended, big
masses of rock gave w-ay and w^ent crashing dowm, striking
the water wdth a noise like thunder. Far up in the air
above the tw^o old Peregrines w^ere sailing round and round,
the female occasionally sweeping past the face of the cliff,
so near that I could see the sparkle of her bright black eye,
and hear the rustle of her wings. The male was much more
wary, and content to watch my actions at a distance. I
found the nest on a narrow ledge of the cliffs, which just
allowed me sufficient standing-room. It was a simple
structure, merely a little hollow scratched out in the scanty
soil, in which were a few bits of dead vegetation, probably

3a OUR RARER BIRDS

the accumulation of chance. Eouncl the nest were quantities
of bones and feathers, a few pellets, and the legs and feet of
a Pufiin, which had evidently only just been eaten. The
nest contained a single young bird, covered with gray down,
which allowed me to examine it minutely without the least
show of resistance.

Another nest which I visited a little earlier in the year
was in a long range of cliffs that rose sheer from the
water six hundred feet. This also was a shallow hole in the
soil on the rocks, about nine inches across. In it were a few
bits of dry heather, and one or two scraps of down, probably
from tlie parent birds. The behaviour of the old birds at this
nest was not quite so demonstrative, although they kept up a
chorus of angry cries. It contained three eggs, and from
their condition I should infer that the female in some cases
begins to sit as soon as the first egg is laid. Another nest
wliich I well remember was on a stupendous inland " storr "
rock, in which a pair of Eavens had dwelt for years, and
where numerous Jackdaws and Starlings also reared their
young. The Peregrine's nest was built in a narrow fissure,
which extended three parts of the way up the cliff. In this
case no nest was made, except a little hollow in the ground.
Prom near the nest a grand look-out could be obtained over
a wide expanse of moor and mountain scenery. Year after
year the Peregrines bred in this noble rock, in spite of the
fact that either their young or their eggs were taken every
season. It was a most interesting sight to watch the old
birds shoot down from the highest air with half-closed wings
and enter the fissure, sometimes with a Pigeon or a Grouse
in their talons.

The eggs of the Peregrine are three or four in number,
and in colour precisely resemble those of the well-known
Kestrel. They vary a good deal in size and shape, but are
not easily confused with those of any other British species.

THE PEREGRINE FALCON 31

Only one brood is reared in the year ; but if the first clutch
of eggs is taken, in some cases another lot is laid. When the
young are hatched, the old birds become even more daring
and eager in their pursuit of birds. As they grow up,
the old birds are taxed to the utmost in finding food for
them. As soon as they can fly, their parents generally desert
them and drive them away from their birthplace for ever.
These young birds wander about a good deal, and often visit
localities in which old birds are rarely if ever seen.

Before leaving the Birds of Prey I intend briefly to
notice a few other species in this important family, more
especially to enable the young naturalist to identify them,
should they chance to fall in his way. The first of these
is the Hobby {Falco subhuteo), a summer visitor to the
British Islands, though slowly decreasing in numbers through
incessant persecution. It is a miniature Peregrine in appear-
ance, and resembles that bold bird in many of its habits. It
is, in fact, the Peregrine of the woodlands, and loves to
frequent the dense forests and tree-grown country, where it
wages a relentless war on the small birds, mice, and
coleopterous insects. It is a late breeder, rearing its young
when the small birds and young game are plentiful. Like
the Kestrel it is no nest-builder, but takes possession of a
deserted nest of a Crow or Magpie, in which it lays four or
five eggs, similar to those of the Kestrel in colour and size,
but a little browner.

The second species is the Merlin {Falco ccsalon), which in
summer frequents the upland heaths and mountain moor-
lands, and in winter the lower country, resembling in this
respect the Meadow Pipit and the Twite. It is a true
Falcon, full of pluck and vigorous dash in pursuit of its
prey, and most persistently attached to the haunts of its
choice. I am of opinion that many Merlins visit this
country every winter from Northern Europe and Iceland.

OUR RARER BIRDS

Its principal food is small birds, though it will attack and
capture Pigeons, and like all the smaller Hawks it catches
insects. It breeds on the ground, returning to the same
spot every season, making its scanty nest among the heather
and the bilberry wires, and laying five eggs, which, with the
exception of being a trifle browner, closely resemble those of
the Kestrel. The Merlin is about the size of the Kestrel, but
is readily distinguished by its slate-blue upper parts and
rufous nape.

Another bird that breeds sparing!}^ in our largest forests
and highest ocean cliffs is the Common Buzzard {Buteo
vulgaris). Its large size, brown plumage, barred tail, and
short bare tarsi, distinguish it from the other British sjpecies.
In our islands it is a resident, but shifts its ground con-
siderably according to season, wandering far from its usual
haunts as soon as the young are safely reared. I have often
met with this handsome bird in the pine woods of the north,
and taken its nest in them. It is a flat, bulky structure
made of sticks, and the shallow cavity containing the eggs is
often strewed with a flake or two of down. It also nests on
cliffs both inland and on the coast. It is an early breeder,
its eggs being laid towards the end of April. They are
white in ground colour, spotted and blotched with reddish-
brown. The Common Buzzard is a very sluggish bird,
beating slowly along the hillsides and over the open ground
in quest of mice and frogs ; and it will not refuse to make a
meal on carrion. I do not think it ever molests birds, and
is comparatively harmless in the game coverts.

The Honey Buzzard (Pernis ajnvorus), distinguished from
aU other birds of prey by its feathered lores (the space
between the eye and the base of the bill), is a summer visitor
still to the K'ew Forest, where its eggs are obtained almost
every season. It is a fitting ornament to this delightful
wooded scenery, and never fails to win our admiration as it

THE PEREGRINE FALCON 33

sails proudly on above the undulating forest — one of the last
of our rarest birds. The Honey Buzzard takes possession of
a deserted nest of a Crow or Magpie, often re-lining the
structure with green leaves. Here it lays two or three
remarkably handsome eggs, cream in ground colour, boldly
blotched and spotted with rich purplish-brown, sometimes
concealing all trace of the light ground. They are round in
form, smaller than those of the Common Buzzard, and singu-
larly waxy in texture. The Honey Buzzard does not molest
birds as a rule, but feeds principally on the larvae of wasps,
which it digs out of the ground with its claws. It also eats
the wasps and bees themselves, and catches mice, frogs,
lizards, and the larger beetles. It leaves its haunts early in
autumn, and the young birds and their parents occasionally
migrate in company.

The ]\Iarsh Harrier {Circus ceruginosus), as its name im-
plies, is another rare visitor to the lowlands, and most fre-
quently observed in the marshes and swamps of the eastern
counties. It loves the broad expanse of fens, over which it
may be seen leisurely beating in quest of the birds and small
animals on which it feeds. Backwards and forwards it flies
in a systematic manner searching every foot of ground,
dropping lightly down upon the unsuspecting creatures which
form its favourite food. It is passionately fond of eggs, and
searches most diligently for the nests of the various birds that
breed in its haunts. It makes its bulky nest of reeds and
dry grass upon the ground, usually under the shelter of a
bush or tuft of herbage, in which it lays from four to six eggs.
These are uniform pale bluish-green, and rarely possess any
markings. The Marsh Harrier is distinguished by its long
wings and tail, short slender legs, rufous white head and
nape, and dark reddish-brown other plumage.

Our last species is the Hen Harrier (Circus cyctneus),
distinguished by its small size, pale-gray breast, and upper

34 OUR RARER BIRDS

plumage, black wings, and white underparts. It is still a
summer visitor to some of the wildest and most secluded
mountain districts. It loves the lonely moors, and delights
to beat along the hillsides. It feeds on small birds, mice,
frogs, and insects, and also robs of its contents any nest (eggs
or nestlings) it may chance to meet with in its wanderings.
I have taken the Hen Harrier's nest amongst the tallest
heather on the hillsides in Skye. It is rather a bulky
structure, almost exclusively made of heather stems, and lined
with a little fine grass. The eggs are laid towards the end
of May, are four or five in number, and resemble those of the
Marsh Harrier, but are a little smaller. Many nests of this
species are trodden underfoot by sheep and cattle. The Hen
Harrier is remarkably graceful in its movements, and is very
conspicuous as it beats up and down the moors in quest of
food. Like the Merlin it returns year after year to its old
nesting-place, but a fresh nest is made every season, so far
as my experience of this species extends.

THE WOOD OWL

{Strix aluco)

The Tawny Owl, or Wood Owl, as it is much more aptly
called, is an inhabitant of the grand old forests and exten-
sive woods. Persecution is slowdy but surely exterminating
this fine bird ; but owing to his seclusive habits and love for
the deepest and least frequented woods, he is able in many
districts to bid defiance to his human enemies. He loves the
w^oods which are full of ancient timber, the grand old oaks
whose gnarled and hollow trunks furnish him with a quiet
retreat ; he is found in the extensive pine w^oods, and some-
times takes up his quarters in an old ruin or a cave in the
rocks, provided the country round about them is well covered
with trees. You cannot easily mistake his whereabouts, nor
readily confuse him wdth any other Owd. His loud, full, and
wide-sounding lioo-lioo-lioo is unmistakable — a cry which is
apt to startle our reverie in the forests when night is stealing
softly over them.

The Wood Owl is a thorough bird of night, and never
wanders abroad until the sun has dropped behind the western
horizon. Occasionally a half-dazed bird may be met with
in the bright sunlight, but he has been disturbed at his
roosting-place. I have also known him come out in the
twilight on the dark wintery afternoons, and in late autumn
when the evening mists have been unusually dense. The
habits of such a bird as the Wood Owl are rather difficult

OUR RARER BIRDS

to observe, and we must wait until the moon is nearl}^ at the
full before we stroll into the woods to watch the actions of
tliis interesting little bird of night. The woods at night !
How little does the stay-at-home naturalist know of the
romantic charm which creeps over the woods at duskl When
the shadows cast by the tall trees grow longer and blacker,
and surrounding objects lose distinctness of outline, the real
carnival of the woods begins. Shy and timid creatures gain
confidence as the darkness spreads ; the rustle of their move-
ments on the carpet of dead leaves and dry fern betrays their
whereabouts, and the soft gentle flap of broad wings amongst
the branches overhead informs you that the night birds are
also moving. The pale moon is now rising above the trees,
lighting up the open glades, and glinting on the stems of the
silver birches. Let us step a little closer into the shadow of
this brave old oak ; the various wild creatures around us are
acutely sensitive, and the least movement on our part may send
them bounding or flying startled away. See, the rabbits are
feeding in the open ; and every now and then the Kightjar
poises above the trees. Sounds which can only be interpreted
by one well skilled in the language of the woods and fields are
to be heard on every side. The field-mice and shrews are
burrowing under the dead leaves ; that louder rustling is a
mole ; those leaps and bounds amongst the fern are made by
a weasel probably following the spoor of one of the rabbits
gamboling yonder. Various creatures leave the hollow trees
amongst which we are standing. These old trees are a quiet
refuge for many shy and timid creatures. Bats frequent
them ; Starlings roost in them ; Stock Doves and Jackdaws
breed in them ; and they are the favourite resort of the Wood
Owl.

That great oak yonder, hollow as a watch-tower, is a Wood
Owl's castle. We may expect the old birds every moment.
Hark ! that is their hoot borne softlv on the nidit ^^•ind from

THE WOOD OWL

37

a distant part of the forest. It is answered by another hoot,
startlingly near and close ; and the bird alights on a branch of
the oak opposite which we are standing. Noiselessly as he
came, his sudden dropping on the branch shook off several of
the big brown acorns, and they bounce down on the short turf
almost at our feet. He sits quietly on the branch a moment ;
then drops almost as lightly and silently as a shadow to the
ground. He has probably caught a mouse or a frog which
was skipping about in the moonbeams on the green velvety
sward. His mate now comes upon the scene and perches on
the next tree. Loud and clear she hoots, and then floats off
into tlie gloom. Backwards and forwards the big-looking
Owls pass to and fro ; sometimes absent for half an hour,
sometimes merely hawking over the glades near at hand.
Were you to linger here all night, the Owls and other creatures
would be sure to interest you ; but in the gray light of early
morning the various sounds grow less and less frequent, and
the night birds and animals have retired to their retreats
before the first Thrush or Eobin has essayed to utter a chirp
of welcome to the opening day.

During the short light-nights near the summer solstice we
have good opportunities of observing the Wood Owl, especially
when it is bringing up its brood and pays many visits to its
nest in the course of a few hours. It does not call so fre-
quently now ; but the young birds are noisy enough in the
hollow trees. The Wood Owl preys upon various creatures
that haunt the woods and the fields adjoining them. JSTow
and then he surprises a belated bird on the hedgerows, but
his principal food is mice and frogs. He also catches various
nocturnal beetles, and occasionally takes a fish as it floats on
the surface of the moonlit water. I have known this bird
to visit the farmyards near the woods, and he repeatedly
haunts the stubbles for mice. Young rabbits and leverets
are sometimes caught, and perhaps a weakly or wounded

OUR RARER BIRDS

bird falls a victim now and then; but the Wood Owl is
a valuable friend to man, and the senseless practice of shoot-
ing and trapping this harmless bird cannot be too severely
condemned.

The Wood Owl, in my opinion, pairs for life, and the same
nesting-site is tenanted year after year. In some cases the
birds only frequent their nesting -place during the breeding
season, haunting for the remainder of the year some dense
clump of ivy or group of thick fir trees in the daytime.
It is a rather early breeder, often laying its eggs in the
beginning of April, and even in exceptionally forward seasons
by the last week in March. The nest, if a mere hollow is
worthy of such a name, is often in the decayed trunks of the
forest trees, especially in oaks and elms ; but occasionally an
old nest of a Magpie or Crow is selected, or even the bare
ground at the foot of a pine tree under the dark sweeping
branches. This latter locality is chosen in districts where
large timber is scarce. Holes in rocks are sometimes used as
a nesting-place. The soft powdered wood at the bottom of the
holes, or the dry scanty soil accumulated in the crevices of the
rocks, or the pine needles on the ground under the trees, form
the Wood Owl's only nest ; and on this it lays three or four
big, round, shining white eggs, w^hich cannot be confused with
those of any other species of British Owl. As soon as the
first egg is laid the bird begins to sit, so that we generally
find eggs either in various stages of incubation, or young birds
in various degrees of growth. The young are noisy little
creatures, and very often betray their whereabouts by their
loud clicking cries. The old birds keep them well supplied
with food, and as soon as they can hunt for themselves they
are abandoned, although, so far as I can determine, only one
brood is reared in the season.

In autumn, when the cares of bringing up a family are
over, the Wood Owls become much more wanderin.c^ in their

THE WOOD OWL

39

habits. Tliey fly farther afield, and hunt districts often at
considerable distances from their daily retreats. The stubbles
are now the attraction ; and on more than one occasion I have
seen this fine bird perched on the " stooks " of corn during
the bright September nights. I have also sometimes flushed
it from the standing corn in the early morning ; and its actions
on the wing are curiously erratic and unsteady, as if the poor
bird were bewildered for the moment at being aroused so
suddenly from its sleep.

Two more Owls, though only breeding sparingly in our
country, have an undisputed claim to be classed with " our
rarer birds." The first of these is the Long-eared Owl {Strix
otus), distinguished by its conspicuous ear-tufts and transverse
bars of pale brown on the under parts. In its habits and
economy it very closely resembles its cousin, the Tawny Owl,
but loves to frequent the gloomy pine woods in preference to
deciduous trees. I have noticed with pleasure the gradual
increase of this beautiful bird in districts where fir and spruce
planting has been extensively pursued. In this country the
Long-eared Owl is a resident, but its numbers are increased in
autumn by birds from more northern lands, and I have known
an occasional example to be caught in the flight nets on the
Lincolnshire marshes. Its eggs are usually laid in the deserted
nest of some other bird, particularly of a Crow, a Magpie, or
a Wood Pigeon, and a favourite locality is the old " drey " of
a squirrel. Five or six white eggs are laid, often very early in
the year, but generally by the end of March or beginning of
April.

The Short-eared Owl {Strix hrachyotus) is best known as
a winter bird in our islands, but a few still breed in the fast-
nesses of the fens. It is distinguished by its short ear-tufts
and longitudinal streaks on the under parts. There are
several interesting features in the life-history of this pretty
Owl. In the first place, its regular migrations to this country

40 OUR RARER BIRDS

ill autumn are very marked. It arrives in flocks in October,
and continues more or less sociable ^vith its species through-
out the winter. I have seen great numbers of this interesting
bird caught in the flight nets round the Wash, where it is
known to the fishermen as the "AVoodcock Owl," from its
liabit of appearing there with tliat bird. Short-eared Owls
migrate at night, and evidently fly just above the water.
Unlike most other Owls this bird often flies by day, and is
frequently seen hunting the fields for food even in the brightest
sunshine. In its flight, food, and many of its habits it resembles
its congeners, but prefers the open country to woods or
buildings. Unlike most other British Owls, this bird rears its
young on the ground, often in the most exposed situations.
May is its nesting- season. Its nest, little more than a hollow
lined with a few bits of dead and withered herbage, is placed
either amongst the heather or the rushes and other aquatic
vegetation on the marshes. It lays five or six pure white eggs,
very similar to those of the preceding species.

THE EED-BACKED SHRIKE

(Lanius collurio)

The ornithologist iu pursuing his studies will be sure to be
impressed constantly by the fact that many birds frequent
particular districts, and are rarely seen away from them.
Country which may seem suitable in every way for the require-
ments of certain species, for some complex reason is deserted by
them. The first step towards becoming a practical ornithologist
is to know where and when to find the objects you wish to
observe. Constant observation will ultimately ensure profi-
ciency. The Eed-backed Shrike is one of those birds singularly
local in its distribution and most capricious in its choice of a

42 OUR RARER BIRDS

haunt. It is a bird of the rich well-cultivated lowlands, shun-
ning the moors and the mountains of the north. It loves to
frequent the broad rough meadows separated by tall hedges
which are allowed to grow uncut, and where there is a sprink-
ling of stunted bushes on which it loves to perch riycatcher-Hke
and wait for its prey. You may often meet with it by the
country roadside, especially where a broad strip of short grass
extends on either side, studded here and there with thorn
bushes and occasional clumps of brambles and briars.
Another favourite haunt of this handsome bird is on the open
common, where it frequents the small trees ; and I frequently
observe it on the outskirts of woods and occasionally on the
downs, where its perching-place is often a mass of chalk, a
gatepost, or a stone wall.

The Eed-backed Shrike is a summer visitor to this country,
arriving late in spring, generally not before the beginning of
May, when the small birds are plentiful and the insects and
mice have come out of their long winter's trance. Its arrival
may readily be noticed, for this bird is one of the most
conspicuous, that thrusts itself before our notice on every
occasion we may chance to wander through its accustomed
haunts. Perched on the topmost twig of a hedgerow, or on
the summit of a solitary bush or stump, or on the palings
near the wood or round the water-hole where the cattle drink
in the pastures, he may be seen for a long distance ; and as he
is by no means a shy bird, if a wary one, we are enabled to
watch his actions with ease. In many of his habits he is pre-
cisely like a big Flycatcher. "Waiting patiently on his ex-
posed perch, looking from side to side, every now and then
jerking and half-expanding his tail, he watches for the passing
beetles and bees that drone lazily by, and flutters into the air
to capture them. Sometimes a Bunting, a Whinchat, or a Tit
ventures too near, and the hungry Shrike pounces on them
unawares, and beats the poor little bird to death with his hard,

THE RED-BACKED SHRIKE 43

hooked beak. I have often watched this bold bird flutter
down into the long grass and fasten upon a shrew or field-
mouse, a grasshopper or a small lizard. He sometimes drops
down to the ground and searches amongst dung or on newly-
ploughed land for beetles ; and not unfrequently he robs
a nest of the half-fledged young. The Eed-backed Shrike is
almost as great a terror to the little birds as the Sparrow-
hawk, and doubly dangerous, for they are apt to approach
him quite unconscious of harm, or allow him to fly up
to them w^hen they are busy feeding on the stubbles. His
wings, however, are not sufficiently powerful to enable him to
fly his victims down like a Hawk ; he comes upon them un-
awares, or chases the w^ounded, the weakly, and the young.
Occasionally he may be seen to poise for a moment above the
hedges or the brambles and long grass, hovering like a Kestrel ;
but his usual flight is very drooping and resembles that of the
Green Woodpecker.

Perhaps the most interesting peculiarity in the habits of
the Eed-backed Shrike is its custom of conveying most of its
captures to some thorn bush, on the spines of which it
impales them, and devours them at leisure. Each bird will
have some particular spot which serves it as a kind of larder,
to which it conveys small birds, beetles, and mice. The
Shrike's feet are not sufficiently powerful to hold its victims
while it tears them to pieces with its sharp -hooked bill ;
hence it spits them on the thorns, which serve as a
vice. I have seen small birds hanging with the head
through a forked twig ; and many objects are spitted which
are never eaten. On the other hand, I have reason to believe
that the Shrike draws upon his store when food becomes
temporarily scarce.

The alarm -note of the Eed-backed Shrike, once heard,
can never be mistaken for that of any other species. It puts
one most in mind of the sac-sac of the Fieldfare, but is

44 OUR RARER BIRDS

clearer and more piercing. This note is not quite so harsh
when the bird is calling to its mate. In late spring the
male bird utters its simple song — a few short pleasing notes,
by no means unmusical, and in full harmony with the sur-
roun dingus.

The Eed- backed Shrike is a somewhat late breeder.
You rarely find its nest before the middle or third week in
May. It is very probable that this bird pairs for life. Its
nest may be found year after year in one chosen spot, and
certain districts are generally tenanted every season by their
pair of birds. These birds appear to migrate in pairs, and
are always seen in pairs upon their arrival in this country.
The Eed -backed Shrike displays little caution in building
its nest, often placing it in the most exposed situations, near
a much frequented footpath, or high up in the tall, windy,
and by no means thick hedges. In this particular it
resembles the Missel-Thrush ; yet singularly enough its nest
very often escapes detection. The nest is a somewhat bulky
structure, built in a fork of the hedges, or amongst brambles
and briars, or in a dense wayside bush. Trees the bird
appears to have no taste for. It is made externally of the dry
stems of various plants often with the flowers attached, dead
grass, roots, and moss, and lined sparingly with finer roots,
horsehair, and sometimes a scrap or two of wool and vegetable
down. The eggs are five or six in number, and vary con-
siderably in size, shape, and markings. For the sake of
clearness we may divide them into four very distinct types.
The first of these is pure white or creamy white, speckled
and spotted with rich reddish-brown and with larger blotches
of violet-gray. The second is pale green, spotted and
speckled with olive-brown and paler markings of violet-
gray. The third is pale buff, spotted with pale olive-brown
and indistinct markings of paler brown and violet -gray.
The fourth is salmon -pink, spotted and blotched with

THE RED-BACKED SHRIKE 45

brownish-red of varying shades, pale markings of violet-gray,
and one or two dark brown streaks. The character of the
markings differs almost as considerably. On the usual type
of egg most of the spots are congregated in an irregular
zone round the larger end ; on others they are spread uni-
formly over the entire surface ; whilst on some they are
very minute and numerous, or very few and distributed in
bold blotches. It is not easv to confuse the eGfO'S of the
Eed-backed Shrike with those of any other British bird ; and
a carefully selected series of them forms one of the most
attractive drawers in the ^^^^ cabinet.

Only one brood is reared in the season, and as soon as the
young can leave the nest they follow their parents from bush
to bush, attracting attention by their noisy cries and con-
spicuous habits. Like all late migrants the Eed-backed
Shrike leaves this country in early autumn, when September
paints the woods and liedges with the first tints of autumnal
gold, for its winter quarters in the south of Africa. The
old birds migrate in spring in company, and depart in the
same manner accompanied by their broods. The young
males are not nearly so handsome in their appearance as
the gaily attired adult male -bird, being brown and dingy
like the female, and in addition the young of both sexes
have the upper parts barred with brown, and the pale eye-
stripe very indistinctly defined.

THE NIGHTINGALE

{Erithacus luscinia)

The affinity of this soberly dressed little bird with the
brightly attired Eobin is not at all generally known or
suspected. Yet when the young naturalist comes to study
the habits of the two species he will find much in common
between them. True, the sweet -voiced Nightingale is a
summer visitor to this country, whilst the Robin is a resident
species ; yet we know the same anomaly exists between two
such closely related birds as the Song Thrush and the Red-
winfT. The Nightingale must certainly be classed with our
rarer birds, as it is to be found in only a limited portion of
the British Islands. This favoured district is principally in
the south-east of England, and even there the Nightingale is
somewhat capricious in its choice of a haunt. The Nightin-
gale is one of spring's first harbingers, and arrives in its old
summer haunts about the middle of April. I have known it
visit this country as early as the fifth of that month, a bird
killing itself on that day by flying against a lighthouse on
the south coast. It takes the bird about a fortnight to reach
its northern haunts, so that we in South Yorkshire do not
meet with it as a rule before the first few days of May. The
Nightingale migrates by day as well as by night ; and I have
met with this little bird in the middle of the Mediterranean
steadily flying north over the trackless waves in company
with Turtle Doves. On the 21st of April 1882 a Nightingale

THE NIGHTINGALE 47

flew on board the steamer Abcl-el-Kader as we were steamino-

o

between Marseilles and the African coast, and I watched it
tamely alight on the back of a sleeping soldier. In spite of
the Bird Preservation Acts the Xightingale is harassed
incessantly by bird-catchers on its arrival in this country.
Out of the hundreds of birds that are still caught here in
spring but few survive their captivity long. When the cock
Ijird has found a mate it is rarely he lives in confinement,
soon pining away ; and Xightingales caught in the autumn
are said by the bird-catchers to be extremely difficult to tame.

As I previously stated, the Xightingale is very peculiar in
selecting a haunt, and shuns many districts altogether,
which, as far as we can see, are eminently suited to its
requirements. In this country it loves to frequent woods
and coppices, especially where there is a good growth of
underwood. It likes those small woods where the hazel
bushes grow densely, and the brambles and briars in
thick masses fringe the tiny brooks. It may often be seen
flitting across the open spaces in the woods, and is frequently
flushed from the dense vegetation near streams, or in the
marshy corners of the plantations. It does not show much
preference for hedges ; like the Wood Wren it is a bird of
the woodlands. Soon after their arrival and before
pairing has taken place, numbers of Nightingales may be
met with in one small wood. I have seen such localities
literally swarming with this species, almost every bush con-
taining its sweet songster trying to out-sing all birds within
hearing.

The Xightingale's song is associated with the pleasantest
days in the whole year. He sings his best when Xature is
acquiring her freshest vigour under the warm beams of a
May-day sun. It is when the woods and hedges look their
greenest and their fairest, when the hawthorns are as fleecy
mountains of glittering whiteness, and the glades are carpeted

48 OUR RARER BIRDS

with bluebells and anemones, that the wild rich song of the
Nightingale seems most eloquent of life and joy. During all
the hours of daylight he sits in some secluded corner of the
cool green woods, and sings his rich and plaintive music at
intervals ; and in the hours of darkness, when the fields and
groves are fast asleep, we catch his melancholy melody as it
is borne hither and thither on the night air. Where the
birds are at all numerous nothing can equal the beauty of
this woodland concert. First one bird and then another
bursts forth into rapturous voice, here and there and every-
where from the dark woods and thickets. What pen can do
justice to the song of the Nightingale ? Half an hour's stroll
into the woods after sundown will introduce his melody to
your notice in all its beauty, and accomplish in a moment
what pages of description would fail to do. Perhaps the song
of this bird has been praised too highly. Its romantic habit
of warblincj at nisjht when the woods are still and rivals
scarce has no doubt gained for its song a large amount of
eulogy from poets and dreamers and novelists ; nevertheless
we have no other singing-bird in this country whose voice
possesses the same rich quality of tone, variety, and compass.
It should here be remarked that the Nightingale is by no
means the only songster that warbles at night. The Sedge
Warbler, the Grasshoper Warbler, and the Thrush repeatedly
do so ; and during the exceptionally short nights near the
summer solstice I have frequently heard many other species
indulging in this habit. The Nightingale begins to sing soon
after his arrival in this country, and continues to do so right
through the months of April and May. In June the song is
heard less frequently, and is finally hushed in the autumnal
moult.

In many of its habits the Nightingale very closely re-
sembles the Robin. Like that bird it obtains most of its food
on the ground, hopping about with head and tail erect, its

THE NIGHTINGALE 49

large bright eye ever on the look-out for danger. At the
least alarm it hurries off into the cover, from which it rarely
wanders far. Its flight is not very powerful and much like
that of a Kobin. When flying before you the bird bears a
very close resemblance to a female Eedstart, its tail showing
out very distinctly when fully expanded. By sitting quietly
in the woods well concealed from view you may often see the
Nightingale hop down out of the underwood on to the dead
leaves or the footpath and search about for food. It re-
peatedly flicks its wings and tail, and bobs its head, just like
a Eobin. If disturbed it hurries back to its close retreat,
from which may be heard its harsh croaking note of alarm,
something like that of the Whitethroat, but louder. Its
usual call-note is a long-drawn plaintive weet, very similar
to the Eobin's, and it also has a habit of snapping its bill
repeatedly if much disturbed. Its food consists principally
of small worms and grubs, which it finds amongst the loose
soil under the dead leaves, by the side of streams, and in
soft marshy places. It also feeds on ants and other insects
and their larvse, and in fruit time eats considerable quantities
of currants, raspberries, and wild strawberries. I believe its
young are chiefly reared on the larvae of moths and butterflies,
and on ants and their eggs.

Like the Eobin, the Nightingale shows a strong affection
for certain haunts, and appears to return to them unerringly
every season. During the pairing time in April it is rather
pugnacious and drives away any rivals that may chance to
invade its own particular haunt. Nest-building begins about
the first week in May, but in backward seasons I have known
it be delayed until nearly the middle of the month. The
nest in nine cases out of ten is made on the ground, in situa-
tions very similar to those selected by the Eobin — amongst
the rank vegetation that carpets the woods, in a chink of some
old gnarled root, on the steep banks, or deep down in the

4

OUR RARER BIRDS

recesses of a hedge-bottom near the copse. Sometimes it is
built amono'st the masses of fallen leaves which the winds of
March have drifted against the tree trunks, and. matted in
the briars ; and perhaps least frequently of all amongst the
dark and glossy foliage of the ivy growing over a rough wall.
When built on the ground, a little hole is scraped out first,
and then the bulky nest is commenced. Externally it is
made of dry grass, bits of dry rush, moss, and dead leaves,
generally of the oak. This is lined with finer grass, roots,
and a little horsehair. The Nightingale's eggs possess certain
well-marked characteristics which prevent them being con-
fused with those of any other native species. They vary from
four to six in number, and range from dark olive-brown to
bluish-green. The ground colour of the dark olive-brown
variety is bluish-green where it can be seen through the rich
surface markings of brown ; whilst the bluish-green variety
is only very faintly mottled with reddish-brown. The two
types are produced by the greater or less abundance of the
surface colour ; and on some eggs this is confined to a circular
confluent mass on the large end, whilst occasionally it is to
be seen on the small end. The Nightingale is a close sitter,
often allowing herself to be caught on the nest. Her sober
brown colours are in strict harmony with surrounding tints,
and she sits quietly on her charge as if conscious of her safety.
The eggs themselves are eminently protective in colour, re-
sembling very closely the browns and greens of the objects
round the nest. Only one brood is reared in the season, and
so far as my observations extend, the young birds are deserted
by their parents as soon as they are able to shift for them-
selves.

The Nightingale is silent for weeks before it takes its
departure, and it skulks close during the moult. It leaves us
somewhat early in autumn, and I rarely see it in its usual
haunts after the beginning of September.

THE NIGHTINGALE 51

Another of our rarer birds here claims a passing notice,
and that is the charming little Pied Flycatcher {Muscica^pa
atricapilla). It is one of the rarest and the most local of our
summer birds of passage. Unlike its well-known congener,
the Spotted Flycatcher, the present species is an early migrant,
and returns to its old haunts by the end of April. I have
had many opportunities of studying the habits of this inter-
esting bird, both in Xorth Africa, where it is specially
common, and in the wooded hill districts of Yorkshire. In
the former country I met with it both in the oases of the
Sahara, as well as in the Arab gardens high up the solitudes
of the Aures Mountains. In England it loves the birch
coppices near the mountain streams, especially where old and
decaying timber is abundant ; and in all situations its con-
spicuous dress of black and white make its identification easy.
Its habits are similar to those of its ally. It sits on the
branches waiting for the insects to pass, and then flutters into
the air to catch them, returning to the old favourite perch.
It is by no means shy, but wary and restless enough. Un-
like the Spotted Flycatcher, which sings but rarely, the
present species is a fairly good musician and warbles inces-
santly, especially in early summer. I am of opinion that it
pairs for life, as every year the same nesting-place is fre-
quented. It breeds in holes of trees and rocks, precisely like
the Eedstart, making a nest of dry grass, moss, wool, hair,
and feathers, in which it lays six or eight eggs. They are
pale blue, devoid of markings, and closely resemble those of
the Eedstart. Only one brood is reared in the year, and
young and old usually keep together and migrate in company.
In Africa this species is constantly to be seen in company
with the Spotted Flycatcher, but in Great Britain the haunts
of the two species are considerably different — one bird loving
the wilderness, the other cultivated localities and the habita-
tion of man.

THE EEED WAEBLER

{Acrocejjhalus arundinaceus)

The Eeed Warbler's range in this country is very similar to
that of the Nightingale ; it is a southern and eastern species,
frequenting the lowlands by the banks of the large rivers and
canals and in the fens. As its name implies, it is a bird of
the reeds and the sedges. It frequents the willow thickets
by the riverside, the osier beds in the still backwaters,
the reeds that fringe the margins of drains and ditches,
ponds, and broads, and even the dense underwood by the side
of streams. The Eeed Warbler is a spring visitor to this
country, arriving in its old haunts late in April or early in
May, according to the state of the season, and wdien the reeds
which are its harbour of refuge are sufficiently high to afford
it shelter. Few birds are more shy and retiring in their habits
than the Eeed Warbler. He delights to skulk in the reeds
and wdllows, only letting the observer get a casual glimpse of
him as he flits across the open w^ater from one fringe of reeds
to the other, or when he runs mouse-like up a tall bending
stem to take a peep at the busy world. Earely is he driven
from his reedy covers, and only for a moment does he remain
in full view. If you wdsh to observe him more closely, you
must conceal yourself amongst the reeds and await his appear-
ance. On the dull windy days he keeps very close and does
not sing much ; but on the bright June mornings, and in the
calm warm stillness of the summer evenincrs he gambols

THE REED WARBLER 53

among the reeds, and now and then you may see him clinging
to a bending stem warbling lustily, his little orange mouth
being very conspicuous as he opens his bill, and his throat
puffed out with song. The Eeed Warbler is another species
that sinsjs at nioht. Durino; the short hours of darkness at
midsummer the reed beds are resonant with his song. This
song has nothing very striking about it ; in fact it is some-
what monotonous, though possessing considerable variety and
sweetness. Sometimes the observer may wander along the
reed-fringed banks of a sluggish stream which he knows to
be a favourite haunt of the Eeed Warbler, but not a bird is to
be seen or heard. A stone or a stick thrown amongst the
aquatic vegetation will generally arouse the reed-birds into
activity. Here and there the tall stems of the reeds are
seen to bend and quiver as the little birds hop from stalk to
stalk, and soon a burst of song as if in defiance rings clearly
out from the dense cover. N"ow and then we catch a
hasty glimpse of the sombre little songster, as he flits along
over the feathery heads of the waving reeds, sometimes sing-
ing as he goes. Numbers of Eeed Warblers inhabit the same
reed beds, but each pair of birds appear to keep to themselves,
and drive off any intruder from their own particular corner.
Few birds are more active, and it is surprising with what
agility they can pass from reed to reed, threading the dense
cover with ease, and running up and down the slender stems
more like mice than birds. In localities where the birds are
numerous, one sings against the other with amazing per-
tinacity, but the little skulking musicians are far more often
heard than seen.

In the low -lying counties, where narrow dykes take the
place of hedgerows, the Eeed Warbler is exceptionally abund-
ant. It is no uncommon thing to find half a dozen nests in
a hundred yards or so of dyke; but the birds are not at all
gregarious, and appear to keep to their own particular spots.

54 OUR RARER BIRDS

It is the same amongst the willow trees and osier beds ; and
what is worthy of remark is, that in places where the reeds or
bushes are scattered no birds are to be met with. They love
the densest situations, and can rarely be sur^Drised in the open.
I do not remember to have ever once seen a Eeed Warbler
on the ground, or a couple of yards away from its favourite
cover. We cannot help admiring, too, how the sombre brown
dress of this little creature harmonises with the decayed
yellow leaves and the brown stems of the reeds, or how beauti-
fully his body is formed for gliding quickly between the net-
work of quivering stems. The breeding season of the Eeed
Warbler depends a good deal on the state of the weather. If
the summer is an early one, the birds begin by the end of
May ; but if, as is often the case, a long spell of cold weather
sets in about this time, the operations are suspended or post-
poned till the first half of June. Pairing appears to take
place soon after the birds' arrival in this country, and the
various nesting-sites are selected and appropriated with much
noisy quarrelling and scolding. The nest of this bird is by
no means difficult to find. All we want is to be sure that the
birds frequent the locality, and a little patience will soon
enable us to discover their remarkably pretty homes. The
nests are made at various heights from the water, sometimes
only a few inches, at others as many feet. Three or four reeds
are selected as supports for the nest, the walls of which are
woven round them ; and when in the willows or osiers two or
three twigs are utilised in a similar fashion. The nest is made
principally of dry sedgy grass stalks, broad dead leaves of the
reeds, and rootlets. In some nests a little moss, or a scrap or
two of vegetable down is mixed with the other materials.
The lining is almost exclusively composed of very fine dry
roots. Some nests are very elongated, and have a considerable
foundation for the cup which contains the eggs ; in others
much of this lower structure is dispensed with. The old birds

THE REED WARBLER 55

become very anxious and garrulous when their nest is
menaced by danger, and flit from reed to reed, or twig to twig,
uttering a series of harsh scolding cries, which sound very
like those used by the Whitethroat on similar occasions. The
nests are often built and left for several days before the first
fdgg is laid — a peculiarity which I have often remarked in the
Song Thrush and the Chaffinch.

The eggs of the Eeed Warbler are four or five in number,
very pale blue in ground colour, spotted and blotched with
greenish-brown, and paler markings of violet-gray. Some
eggs are slightly streaked with very dark brown, and on
some the spots are large and confluent, on others small and
evenly dispersed over most of the surface. It is worthy of
remark how very distinct the eggs of the British AYarblers
are. In each group the eggs almost without exception are
peculiar. Thus in the Willow Warblers we have pure white
eggs spotted with reddish-brown ; in the Tree Warblers the
eggs are s?Jmon-pink, spotted with purplish-brown ; in the
Grasshopper Warblers the finely powdered brown markings
and their general pinky appearance are characteristic of them
alone ; whilst in the Eeed Warblers greens and olive-browns
are the predominant colours. In the true Warblers — as, for
instance, the Blackcap and the Whitethroats — there is not
quite so much uniformity, probably because the species in
this group are comparatively of much greater antiquity than
those in the preceding ones. It seems to me that the very
distinct variations in the eggs of this latter group show
a wide degree of differentiation of many of the species ; but
in the allied groups, although the species have become
fairly defined, the eggs have not yet had time to vary,
and consequently a certain type of ^gg runs through each
respective group. What part these variations play in the
economy of the birds still remains to be discovered ; but
I think it is very clear that these well-marked types of

56 OUR RARER BIRDS

eggs prove a not very remote evolution of the birds in
each of these great groups severally from a common parent
form.

The Eeed Warbler only rears one brood in the season, but
if its first nest is destroyed another is made and a fresh
clutch of eggs deposited. The food of this little bird is com-
posed very largely of insects which it catches by fluttering
after them as they fly over the water, or when they are at rest
on the stems of the reeds and willow twigs. In autumn it
may possibly feed on fruit, but I do not think it does so to
any great extent, being too much averse to leaving its reedy
cover. The young birds are fed on larvae of various kinds.
In some situations where reed beds are scarce, and the birds
live amongst the dense undergrowth by the pond-side, a visit
to the gardens adjoining is more readily undertaken. The
Eeed Warbler quits his haunts long before the winds of late
autumn break dowai the reeds and the tall herbage begins to
decay. Silently and stealthily he skulks away, and he is safe
in Africa almost before we miss him from his haunts in this
country.

The researches of recent years have established the claim
of the Marsh Warbler {Acrocei^lialiis palustris) to be included
among our rarer birds. This little Warbler is most interesting
to British ornithologists ; and there can scarcely be a doubt
that every season it is confused with its near ally, the Eeed
AVarbler, whose habits we have just been studying. We have
here a remarkable instance of two perfectly distinct species
of birds resembling each other most closely in external
appearance, but differing widely in their geographical dis-
tribution, habits, song, and the colour of their eggs. A
similar but not quite so marked an instance is to be found
in the Song Thrush and the Eedw^ing.

The Marsh Warbler has hitherto only been observed in
the southern counties of England, but doubtless farther

THE REED WARBLER 57

research will increase the area of its distribution. In external
appearance it only differs from the Eeed Warbler in the
colour of the rump, which is olive-brown ; in the latter and
commoner species this is russet-brown. It is a much better
sono^ster than the Eeed Warbler, its voice beinii- more varied,
richer, and almost as sweet as the strain of the Nightingale.
It is also much less skulking in its habits, and instead of
reed beds loves to frequent the dense vegetation by the
water-side — brambles, brushwood, alders, and willows, where
the ground below them is clothed with luxuriant herbage.
The Marsh Warbler arrives in England late in spring, and
leaves us early in autumn — May and August being its " travel-
ling months." Its nest is attached to stems of tall plants,
such as nettles and meadow-sweet, never to the reeds or
over water. It is made of dry grass, scraps of moss and
vegetable fibre, and lined with horsehair. The eggs, five or
six in number, are greenish-blue or greenish-white in ground
colour, spotted and blotched with olive -brown and violet-
gray, and occasionally with dark brown. The food of the
Marsh Warbler is almost exclusively composed of insects.

THE GEASSHOPPER WAPBLER AND DARTFORD
WARBLER

{Locustella locustella and Sylvia provincialis)

The Grasshopper Warbler, thougii pretty generally distributed
throughout this country, must rank as one of our rarer birds
and one whose habits are by no means easy to observe. It
has obtained its well merited and singularly applicable name
from its peculiar note, which sounds very similar to that of a
grasshopper. We have not a bird in our English woods and
fields more skulking in its habits than the Grasshopper
Warbler. Were it not for its singular song, it would gene-
rally escape the notice of even the most careful observers.
It skulks back again to its summer quarters in this country
towards the latter end of April, not reaching its northern
haunts before the beginning of May, and soon afterwards
announces its arrival by uttering its peculiar song. It may
be met with in almost every variety of country, provided the
ground is well covered with brushwood and herbage. I have
often heard its song on the moors, miles away from woods,
where it frequents the tall heather and the clumps of thorn
trees which here and there stud the waste. It inhabits
woods and plantations where the underwood is dense, and
shows an equal preference for the hedgerows which are choked
with a rank growth of coarse grass, briar, and bramble. I
have found it specially common on waste pieces of ground
where the country lanes widen out, and the open space is

THE GRASSHOPPER WARBLER 59

covered with a thick growth of gorse and bramble and dog-rose,
with a carpet of coarse rank grass. It is also specially fond of
frequenting the dense vegetation of all kinds that luxuriantly
covers the banks of brooks. In all these situations I have often
lingered to catch a glimpse of this shy little creature, chasing
him up and dov/n the cover, backwards and forwards, directed to
him solely by his song, and only obtaining the briefest possible
glimpse of him, as, mouse-like, he glided through the long grass,
or hopped from twig to twig with amazing speed. If fairly
beaten out of his retreat he seems like one bewildered, and
flutters aimlessly about, glad to hide in the first cover that may
afford him shelter. At rare intervals he may be seen to run
nimbly up a tall stem of herbage, or explore the higher branches
of the bushes ; but at the least alarm he drops like a stone
into the thicket below, and no artifice will make him leave it.

The note of this bird once heard can never be forgotten.
It is one long tremulous trill, louder than the grasshopper's,
but equally as monotonous. This sibilant song often lasts
w^ithout cessation for two or three minutes together, now
sounding startlingly near or very remote, as the bird changes
its position in the thick cover — loud and close when he is up
in the branches, low and remote when down in the grass. It
may be heard at all hours of the day and night ; but it becomes
specially loud and continuous in the dusk of the summer
evenings. If hunted from one place to another, the bird
appears to show very little uneasiness and is not readily
frightened. The song ceases for a moment wdien you ap-
proach the bushes where the little skulker is concealed, but
it bursts out again directly afterwards in another part of the
cover ; and so the bird may be hunted or followed from
place to place, perhaps without once showing itself.

The food of the Grasshopper Warbler is composed chiefly
of insects and their larvae ; but in autumn this fare is
occasionally varied by fruits of different kinds.

6o OUR RARER BIRDS

The Grasshopper Warbler breeds late, its eggs seldom
being laid before the end of May. As may readily be
supposed, the nest is artfully concealed amongst the vegeta-
tion in which the bird delights to skulk. A favourite
situation is in amongst the rank grass through which brambles
and rose-briars twine, or in the weedy bottom of a dense hedge-
row\ The nest is also made in the dead grass at the bottom of
the gorse bushes, and amongst ferns and bluebells and long
grass on the banks of a woodland stream. In most cases a
natural arch of grass bends over the nest, almost if not
entirely concealing it from view. The nest is made of broad
leaves of dead grasses, intermixed with moss and dry leaves,
and lined with fine grass and rootlets. The eggs are from
four to six in number, pinkish-white in ground colour, pro-
fusely spotted and sprinkled with reddish-brown and pale
gray. On some eggs the markings are mostly collected in a
zone round the large end ; on others a few streaks are observ-
able, whilst in many the pale gray markings predominate.
In spite of what has been said to the contrary, I am of opinion
that the Grasshopper Warbler only rears one brood in the
season. Eggs may be found quite late in June, or even in
the beginning of July, but they are doubtless the produce
of birds whose earlier efforts were unfortunate. When
the nest is approached the sitting bird runs off like a mouse,
always preferring to creep through the vegetation rather than
take wing. She soon returns to her charge again, and
stealthily reaches her nest unheard and unseen. It is diffi-
cult to state the exact time when this skulking little creature
returns to his winter home in the south, but I for my part
never see him after the beginning of September.

The habits of birds are puzzling in the extreme. A strong
robust bird like the Eed-backed Shrike leaves this country
for no apparent reason when autumn days foretell the
early approach of winter ; whilst the delicate and frail little

THE DARTFORD WARBLER 6r

Dartford Warbler remains in his favourite quarters and braves
all the rigours of a northern winter almost with impunity.
Curiously enough, this singular little bird is nowhere migra-
tory, and this would lead one to the conclusion that it is a
species which is striving to increase its northern range.
Unfortunately for the poor bird it makes little progress in
this direction, for an unusually severe winter or prolonged
spell of frost well-nigh exterminates it, and years elapse
before it occurs again in its wonted numbers. British orni-
thologists may justly feel proud of this little bird, for it was
first made known to science by an English naturalist, from a
specimen shot near Dartford in Kent — from which town it
received its trivial name.

The Dartford Warbler is a bird of the commons and
the heaths, where extensive coverts of gorse and masses of
briar and bramble are to be found. It is another little
skulking species, but not quite so much so as the Grasshopper
Warbler. It rarely takes wing, and still more rarely indulges
in a long flight. The furze bushes are its favourite retreat ;
but in very severe weather I have flushed it from the low
scrub on the beach, and occasionally from under the broad
leaves of the turnips. The little " furze Wren " is perhaps
most interesting in the spring, when the gorse coverts glow
like burnished gold in the bright May sunshine. Then he
may be seen skipping about the prickly branches of the gorse,
running up to the very summit of the bushes to warble his
sweet little song, then down again into the dense mass of
vegetation, to reappear in quite another part of the cover.
Where the birds are at all common, several may often be seen
fluttering above the gorse at the same moment, and their
peculiar and unmistakable note sounds loudly on every
side.

As the Dartford Warbler lives almost exclusively on
insects, it is a very active restless little creature, and is

62 OUR RARER BIRDS

incessantly hopping and creeping about in searcli of its food.
Xow you see the prickly branches quiyer near the top of the
bush, and catch a momentary glimpse of the dark-looking
bird ; then almost instantly it drops down again into the very
roots of the gorse, or flutters upwards into the air to catch a
passing fly. In autumn it pays short and timid visits to the
fruit trees in the farmers' gardens near the coverts, and hunts
about the adjoining moors for bilberries and other ground
fruits. Its young are largely fed on caterpillars, as well as on
the perfect insect.

The breeding season of the Dartford Warbler begins about
the middle of April, the eggs usually not being laid before
the last week in that month. The nest is cunningly con-
cealed amongst the thickest portions of the coverts, not very
high up in the branches, but amongst the dead twigs and
long grass at the foot of the bushes. It is a flimsy structure,
very like the Whitethroat's in general appearance, made of
dead grass stalks, bits of withered furze, and scraps of moss,
lined with finer stalks and sometimes a few hairs. It is not
quite so deep as the Whitethroat's, and if anything a trifle
more bulky. The eggs are four or five in number, and so
closely resemble those of the Common Whitethroat that it is
with difficulty they can be distinguished. As a rule they
are a trifle smaller, and the dark markings are a little more
intense. As in those of the Whitethroat, the spots often form
a zone round the large end. The female sits closely, and I
have sometimes stood within a few feet of the nest without
her showing much alarm. Few nests are more difficult to
find, and the only way of ensuring success is to carefully
watch the old birds, who rarely fail to disclose their secret if
patiently observed. Two broods may be reared in the season,
but such is by no means generally the case.

THE XUTHATCH

{Sitta ccesia)

This engaging active little bird resembles the Titmouse very
closely in its liabits, and frequents similar haunts. Like those
ever wandering little creatures, the Tits, the Nuthatch visits
all kinds of scenery, provided trees are to be found, for on
them it seeks the greater part of its food. We often meet
with it in the decaying trees in the last remaining remnants
of the olden forests, where amongst the gnarled stems and
rotten branches it finds a plentiful supply of food. In the

64 OUR RARER BIRDS

mellow days of autumn it wanders to the filbert orchards to
prey upon the nuts, and is frequently seen in the beechwoods,
where the mast is a never failing attraction. It is not by
any means a gregarious bird, although a social one, and in
autumn and winter a solitary JSTuthatch frequently attaches
itself to a party of Titmice, accompanying them in their end-
less rambles through the woods in quest of food. When the
frost is severe, and the wintery landscape looks more than
usually dreary, an odd Nuthatch often visits the trees near
man's habitation, and picks up a meal with far more homely
birds.

It is in w^inter that the actions of the Nuthatch may be
studied to best advantage. Then the leafless trees afford it
little shelter, and you may stand and watch its erratic move-
ments on the trunks and large branches. The sharp wliit of
the Nuthatch is one of the few sounds that break the stillness
of the wintery woods, and the little bird itself is generally
soon met with amongst the trees, even in the midst of snow
and frost. Many times have I observed this active little bird
creeping fly-like over the bark, its gray and chestnut plumage
contrasting strongly with the newly fallen snow.

There is something about the first heavy fall of snow
specially attractive and interesting to the naturalist. The
whole landscape bears a strange, novel look ; it is something
fresh ; and what is more, bird-life in the snow is an interesting
study. Stroll abroad this wintery morning, before the first
freshness of the snowstorm has passed away. Note the
dreamy quietness which prevails along the hedgerows, almost
hidden in places by the drift ; the stillness amongst the trees
or by the stream. Nature seems in tranquil repose after the
strife and tempest of the previous night, and everything is
changed by the sudden transformation of the storm. The
broad-leafed laurels and dark yews and hollies bend under
their heavy pall of dazzling whiteness. Here and there on

THE NUTHATCH 65

the rusfoed trunks of the forest trees the snow has lodo-ed in

00 o

the rifts of the bark, and every branch and twig of the hedge-
rows is clothed in a fair frostwork of silver filagree. Drops
of water glisten like diamonds in the yellow sunlight as they
tremble on the branches; and every now and then one is
startled by a mass of snow falling from the trees. Animals,
the shyest of the shy, that once betrayed themselves by rust-
ling amongst the carpet of autumn leaves, now steal silently
away, their presence only revealed by their tracks left upon
the snow. The rabbits have been gamboling here ; there a
hare has passed hurriedly along to her warm " seat " in the
hedgerow. Yonder a stoat has skipped from his asylum in
the stoneheap in search of his breakfast ; whilst on every side
are to be seen the little footprints of birds. The soft fleecy
snow is everywhere ; but still we may be sure of finding the
Xuthatch in the woods.

In a manner precisely similar to a Titmouse, the Nuthatch
explores the chinks and crevices of the bark, now running
from side to side, then upwards in spiral course, anon down-
wards with head pointing to the ground, for he is equally at
home when climbing with his tail or his head uppermost.
You will observe that he seldom or never supports himself
with his tail feathers as the Woodpeckers and Creepers do.
He is a restless little creature, by no means shy, yet suffi-
ciently wary to be far more often heard than seen. I have
often observed the Nuthatch explore buds and twigs for
insects and larvae, as well as the big branches and trunks.

The food of the Nuthatch is largely composed of insects
and grubs, but in autumn nuts of various kinds, acorns, fir-
cones, and the stones of various fruits and berries. It is very
clever at breaking open the hard shell of nuts, generally
carrying them off to some favourite chink or crevice in a tree
or post, where by diligent hammering with its strong beak
it soon cracks them. The ground below soon gets thickly

5

66 OUR RARER BIRDS

strewn with the shells and husks which bear witness to the
little bird's industry. It may sometimes be seen on the
ground searching for fallen nuts and .beech-mast, or to pick
up a nut that it may have dropped when busy cracking it.

The Nuthatch, I am inclined to believe, pairs for life, and
yearly returns to its old nesting-place, showing great attacli-
ment to it, and only forsaking it after continual and incessant
disturbance. It is a somewhat early breeder, putting its little
house in order by the third week in April. It makes its nest
in a hole in a tree or stump, at varying heights from the
ground and at different depths. Sometimes, but rarely, a hole
in a wall is selected. The entrance to the hole is oenerallv
too large for the ISTuthatches, wlio neatly plaster up the
opening with mud, and thus reduce the aperture to the size
they need. In most cases a hole is selected ready made, but
the birds frequently enlarge one till it is suited to their re-
quirements, or even bore into the soft decaying wood. At
tlie bottom of the hole a slight nest is formed of dry grass,
and mayhap a few dead leaves ; but sometimes even this is
dispensed witli, and the eggs lie on a few bits of bark flake,
or even on the finely-powdered wood-dust. The eggs are from
five to eight in number, pure white in ground colour, spotted
and blotched with reddish-brown and gray. They vary con-
siderably in size, shape, and markings, but the eggs of a
clutch are usually pretty uniform in these respects. Some
eggs are minutely speckled over the entire surface ; others
are boldly blotched as well as finely marked, whilst on some
exceptionally handsome varieties the reddish-brown spots and
blotches are confined to a broad zone or circular patch on the
end of the ^gg. You may remove the eggs of the Nuthatch,
but others will be laid, and I have on several occasions taken
clutch after clutch from the same hole. The Nuthatch may
frequently rear more than one brood in the year, and gene-
rally lays again if the first lot of eggs be destroyed.

THE NUTHATCH 67

The young are fed assiduously by both parents on an
insect diet, much the same as Titmice. Very often the
broods disband long before the advent of winter, although
the old birds may be seen in company throughout the year.
The Nuthatch does not possess any song, but in the vernal
year, when under sexual excitement, its usual call -note is
somewhat modulated into a kind of twitter. In its flight it
very closely resembles the Great Tit, and on the ground it is
capable of hopping with ease.

THE MAESH TITMOUSE

(Parus ■palustris)

The names of some birds are remarkably inappropriate and
apt to lead the young naturalist astray. That of the Marsh
Titmouse is a good example. We should infer from its name
that the bird is an inhabitant of the marshes, the reeds, and
the swamps ; but in reality it frequents much the same
localities as the other Titmice — the woods and hedges and
trees in almost every kind of country. It is perhaps more a
bird of the wild than its congeners, and does not frequent
the neighbourhood of houses so much. Its habits are
very similar to those of the other Titmice. Like them it is
constantly in motion, exploring every little twig and branch
and bud, throwing itself into all manner of grotesque attitudes
in its busy search for food. To my observation the Marsh
Titmouse explores hedges and low bushes and brushwood
much more than the other members of this family do. It may
instantly be recognised by its peculiar cry of tay-tay-tay, a note
unlike that of any other British species. In the early spring
this note is variously modulated into two syllables, and then
almost resembles a song. The bird seldom stays long in one
locality, except during the breeding season, and sometimes
numbers make their appearance in a district, stay a day or
so, and then just as suddenly depart.

Insects form the principal food of the Marsh Titmouse,
and it is most diligent in its search for them, picking out
the larvse from the chinks of the bark and the branches, and

THE MARSH TITMOUSE 69

often flitting into the air to catch an insect j^assing by. But
this fare is varied with small seeds of many kinds ; and in the
late summer and autumn months it visits the different garden
trees for their fruit. Like the Eook, I have often seen the
Marsh Titmouse picking the bones and other refuse of the
slaughter-house. In winter wdien insect food is somewhat
scarce I often see the Marsh Titmouse visit the orchards and
pick at the stray apples and pears that have escaped the gales
and still remain on the trees. Old walls are often visited,
especially those which are overgrown with ivy and other
vegetation, where insect-life lurks in great plenty. Some-
times it pays a hurried visit to the farmyard and seeks about
for food amongst the heaps of old timber which are piled up
ready for placing under the hay- and corn- stacks ; but w^her-
ever it is met with the observer will find that it is by far the
shyest and the most wary of all the Titmice.

The Marsh Titmouse is a rather late breeder. The Blue
Titmouse and the Great Titmouse have already laid their eggs
before the present species begins to build its nest. May is
generally half over before we can be certain of finding its eggs.
Its nest is usually made in a hole of the timber — a knothole
being a favourite place. I have repeatedly found it in a rotten
stump in the hedgerows, wdiere the w^ood broke away like
tinder soon revealing the bird and its treasures. Sometimes a
hole in the pollard willow by the pond -side is chosen, less
frequently a cranny in the old " dry " wall. It does not often
make a hole for itself unless the wood is very soft. The nest
is placed at varying depths. I have known it a yard
down an old stump, whilst very often it is only a few^ inches
from the opening. It is made somewhat loosely of bits of
dry grass, quantities of moss, w^ool, and feathers, and in some
cases a little hair. The eggs are from six to ten in number.
The nest which I alluded to above in the old stump con-
tained a clutch of the latter number. They are white spotted
and speckled with reddish-brown, generally most thickly

70 OUR RARER BIRDS

on the larger end. Eggs of the Marsh Titmouse so closely
resemble those of the Coal Titmouse and the Blue Titmouse
that they cannot safely be distinguished. The only sure way
is carefully to identify the old birds at or on the nest before
taking^ the eofo^s. The Marsh Titmouse sits close, and often
allows you to break away the soft wood which contains her
home and expose it fully to view without making the least
attempt to escape. The old birds are extremely careful not
to betray the whereabouts of their nest, often hopping about
for hours without once visiting it if they know they are being
watched. When the hand is inserted in the nest -hole the
sitting-bird conmiences to hiss in quite an alarming way, and
it will bite and snap vigorously at the fingers when it is taken
from its eggs. But one brood is reared in the year, although
other eggs will be laid in most cases if the first lot is taken.
I have known these birds go on laying egg after ^gg in the
same hole just as regularly as they were removed. The Blue
Titmouse and the Starling will do the same.

The broods of Marsh Titmice and their parents do not
appear to keep company during the winter. As far as I can
learn, the little party breaks up when the young birds can
manage for themselves, and I generally see this species either
solitary, in pairs, or less frequently in company with Coal Tit-
mice and even with Xuthatches.

It should be mentioned that the Marsh Titmouse — in fact
all the British species of this family of birds are residents in
this country. Our indigenous birds may be slightly increased
in numbers by wandering Titmice from more northern lands,
driven southw^ards by inclement weather, but the immigration
is unimportant and scarcely discernible. It is in winter that
the habits of the shy Marsh Titmouse are best observed ; in
summer when the leaves are on the trees he is often passed
by unnoticed.

The Crested Titmouse {Parus cristatus) is the rarest of the
British Titmice, and only breeds in one or two favoured

THE MARSH TITMOUSE 71

districts of Scotland — in Eoss, Inverness, Banff, and Aberdeen.
It is distingnished by its conspicuous black streaked with
white frontal crest, otherwise it somewhat resembles the
Marsh Tit. It is a bird of the pine woods, and seldom
wanders far from that tree. In its habits, food, mode of nesting,
and call-note it differs but slightly from its congeners. In
autumn and winter the Crested Tit sometimes wanders far
from home, and on one solitary occasion I have seen it as far
south as Derbyshire. Its eggs, live to seven in number, are
white spotted and blotched with brownish -red, and are as a
rule more richly and boldly marked than those of any other
British species of Titmouse.

So long as the wide expanse of fenland remains in its
primitive seclusion, the Bearded Titmouse {Panurus liarmi-
cus) will probably be ranked as one of our rarer birds. It
is almost exclusively confined to the fens and broads — the
forests of reeds that stretch monotonously farand wide over this
tract of country. No other British bird can be confused with
the Bearded Titmouse — its slate-gray head, rufous brown and
delicate pink plumage, black moustachial lines, and long tail,
being unfailing marks of distinction. In its habits it puts
you in mind of the Eeed Warbler. Like that bird it flits
about among the reeds, crosses the waterways in dipping
flight, and every now and then utters its Tit-like notes. It
probably pairs for life like many of the Titmice. The nest is
usually placed under a tuft of sedge or other aquatic herbage,
and is made of dry grass and bits of reeds, sometimes lined
with the flowers of the reeds. The eggs, five or six in number,
are yellowish -white, streaked and speckled with irregular
lines of dark brown. They differ considerably from the eggs
of any other British bird. Two broods are often reared in the
season ; and at the approach of winter the birds collect into
little parties and wander far and wide in quest of food. This
is composed of insects in summer, and seeds of various kinds
in winter.

THE ST. KILDA WEEN

(Troglodytes liirtensis)

It is a singular fact in the ornithology of the British Islands
that so few of the birds found resident in them are peculiar
to the country, and one that seems conclusively to prove that
the separation of these islands from the continent of Europe
has, geologically speaking, been comparatively recent. When
the ornithologist begins to study his favourite science more
deeply, and especially in relation to its bearing on the origin
of species, he will find much to interest him. He will be able
satisfactorily to determine the history of many species, and
clearly to trace the descent of many local forms and isolated
races from the parent stock. In this country his examples of
the evolution of species by the agency of isolation are ex-
tremely few, but quite sufficient to illustrate very forcibly
this law of the origin of species. One of the most interesting
examples is to be found in the Eed Grouse, a bird which is
only found in the British Islands. This bird is very closely
related to the Willow Grouse, a species that lives as close to
this country as Scandinavia, and which, like the Ptarmigan,
assumes a snow-white winter plumage.. Indeed, the Eed
Grouse is nothing^ more than an island form of the Willow
Grouse, its chief point of distinction being its constant brown
dress. In accounting for the presence of the Eed Grouse
in this country, we can either presume that the range of the
Willow Grouse became discontinuous when our islands were

THE ST. KILDA WREN 73

separated from tlie Contiuent, or we can suppose that tliey
were peopled by a migrating flock of Willow Grouse that
were compelled by severity of climate and scarcity of food to
retire southwards. In either case their isolation effectually
preserved the variations which arose through their change of
country and climate, and the Eed Grouse was developed into
an island species from the colony of imprisoned Willow
Grouse, or its common ancestor.

I was fortunate enough to discover some four years ago
another very similar instance to the foregoing, only a trifle
more local in its character. During a visit which I paid to
the little group of remote islands known collectively as St.
Kilda, I shot an example of a Wren which I found to be very
common there. I noticed its presence almost as soon as I
landed on these lonely islets. My attention was directed to
it more specially because it differed in many important
particulars from the little Wren with which we are all so
familiar. In the first place, it is larger, and its feet are much
less slender than those of the Common Wren ; secondly, it is
paler in colour, and has the upper plumage much more dis-
tinctly barred ; and thirdly, its habits are different. This
little bird, though closely allied to the Common Wren and
the Wrens living in Norway and the Faroe Islands, is still
very distinct from them. It has been isolated from its
companions so long on St. Kilda that the differences which
have been developed through climatic and other causes have
finally become constant characters, precisely as in the case of
the Eed Grouse.

But very few land -birds live in St. Kilda, and of these
the little Wren is perhaps the only constant resident. It
never leaves the islands ; summer and winter its cheery little
song may be heard from all parts of the rocks. The Wheat-
ear comes to St. Kilda in spring, and stays to rear its young ;
the Starling breeds here, curiously enough in holes in the

OUR RARER BIRDS

ground as well as in the rocks ; the Hooded Crow is common,
but in severe weather often visits the distant mainland ; the
Tree Sparrow also breeds in the holes of the rough walls ; and
the Twite, the Meadow Pipit, and the Eock Pipit are fairly
common ; but all are more or less migratory. It is most
interesting^ to find such a delicate little bird living on these
remote ocean rocks, wdiere not a bush or a tree of any descrip-
tion is to be found. With us the Wren loves the well-wooded
districts, and is rarely seen far from the cover of hedges and
thickets ; but in St. Kilda it has had to modify its habits
considerably, and has developed into what we may most aptly
describe as a Eock Wren. Long residence amongst the rocks
has strengthened its feet, just as the constant use of our own
limbs will develop them. St. Kilda and the adjacent islets
are all rocks and stones, clothed with luxuriant turf, amongst
which primroses and other simple flowers bloom plentifully,
and on the cliffs, sorrel, campion, and other plants grow
luxuriantly. On the hillsides the natives build numbers of
rough hovels or " cleats," made of boulders and roofed with
turf, in which fodder and fuel are stored, and the sheep and
cows find shelter during rough weather. The St. Kilda Wren
loves to run in and out of the rough walls of these hovels,
often perching on a projecting stone to warble forth its loud
and merry song. This song, to my ears, sounds louder,
clearer, and more powerful than that of the Common Wren ;
and its call-notes are louder and harsher. It hops about w^ith
the same pert and engaging ways, constantly bobbing its
head, and carrying its tail erect. It is by no means shy, and
I have often watched it feeding its young within a few yards
of where I was standing. It also loves to frequent the rocks
and bioj stones on the beach ; and I have often flushed it
from the sides of the steep precipices, on which tens of
thousands of sea-birds were rearing their young. Its principal
food is insects, which it finds in the nooks and crannies into

THE ST. KILDA WREN 75

which it is constantly running. I have seen it catch the
spiders in the crevices of the walls, and sometimes pursue an
insect as it flew by.

Like the Common Wren, the St. Kilda Wren most prob-
ably pairs for life. Year after year it frequents a chosen
spot in which to build its home ; but a new nest is made
every season. It begins building by the end of April or
early in jNIay, and the nest is very similar to that of the
Common Wren. It is often made in a crevice of the rocks
or a hole in a wall, or in a heap of stones. One nest I found
within a few yards of high-water mark in a broken wall ; but
most frequently it is placed inside one of the rough hovels,
generally near the roof. The nest is domed and beautifully
made. It is composed almost entirely of moss, profusely
lined with feathers and a quantity of hair, some of which
latter material is pulled from the Puffin snares in the cliffs.
Eound the entrance, especially below it, a number of grass
stalks are deftly w^oven, probably to strengthen that part of
the structure which is subject to most w^ear and tear. The
eggs are six in number, pure white, profusely spotted,
especially round the large end, wdth brownish-red and a few
paler markings of grayish-brown. Some eggs are almost
spotless white ; in others the colouring matter is congre-
gated in a circular mass at the end. They are a little larger
than those of the Common Wren, but otherw^ise very closely
resemble them. Probably this bird rears two broods in the
season, and the young are deserted as soon as they can forage
for themselves. It is possible that the Wrens inhabiting
the Outer Hebrides may belong to this species, as I am not
aware that birds from this locality have been examined by
any competent naturalist.

Aj

THE GRAY WAGTAIL

{Motacilkt sulyhurea)

In summer almost every mountain trout-stream is the haunt
of the charming little Gray Wagtail, a bird remarkable for
the quiet beauty of its dress and the singular gracefulness of
its form. It loves the streams in their wildest moods, far up
the hillsides where the Dippers build their nests amongst the
big boulders of rock, and where the banks are fringed with
mountain ash and alder trees. Less frequently you may
meet with it on slower running reaches of the stream, or on
the banks of brooks near to mill-dams, and about weirs and
sluices. It is a much more wary bird than the Pied or
Yellow Wagtails, but cannot be called very shy, provided due
caution is exercised. It is generally first observed as it rises
from the side of the water, or from a rock or stone in the
middle of the stream. Like all the other Wagtails, its flight
is drooping and rarely long sustained. It seldom goes far when
flushed, perching on another rock or up in the branches of
the trees a little way ahead, where, with its long tail beating

THE GRAY WAGTAIL 77

time to its sharp call -note of chiz-it, it warily watches your
movements.

There is something about the Gray Wagtail singularly in
harmony with the roaring stream ; its actions are so graceful,
and it lends life to those districts where birds are not par-
ticularly plentiful. A habit of the Gray Wagtail which the
observer will not fail to notice is its perching in trees. It is
more of a tree bird than any other Wagtail, and may be
seen repeatedly fiying up into the alders, where it is as much
at home amongst the branches as on the stones. I have
often watched this charming little bird running daintily along
the broad horizontal limbs of the trees near the stream, and
have occasionally seen it perch on the low bushes by the
water- side.

Although the Gray Wagtail is a resident in this country
throughout the year, it changes its place of abode with the
season. In spring and summer it lives on the upland waters,
but at the approach of winter it comes lower down the valleys
and into the more cultivated districts, often following the
course of the river until it reaches the sea, where it may
sometimes be observed catching flies on the beach. During
winter the Gray Wagtail often keeps in little parties, probably
the birds of the previous season and their parents. These
parties are occasionally joined by one or two Pied Wagtails ;
but as the Gray Wagtails are seldom found far from running
water, they are most frequently seen by themselves. In
winter the Gray Wagtail loses much of its summer wariness,
and in hard weather comes quite close to houses : I have often
seen it on the banks of a river in the heart of a busy town.
]^o matter how severe the weather may be, we never find the
Gray Wagtail on ploughed fields or pastures. If the stream
freezes the bird seeks out a more congenial haunt elsewhere,
returning when the frost is gone. It is much attached to its
haunts — in summer we see the same birds back again on

78 OUR RARER BIRDS

certain parts of the mountain stream, and in winter they un-
erringly return to their old quarters.

The little parties of Gray Wagtails that frequent the
lowland streams in winter disband at the first sign of spring's
approach. By the end of March they have separated into
pairs, and retired to spend their honeymoon on the banks
of the bright purling mountain streams. But the \varm
April sunshine has burst the buds on the alder trees, and the
pale green fronds of the bracken are slowly uncurling, ere the
Gray AVagtail seeks out a site by the stream for its simple
little nest. This is seldom, if ever, built far from the water,
and in many cases but a few inches from it. A favourite
place is under some piece of overhanging rock on the sloping
bank amongst tall grass and other herbage. It is sometimes
concealed under a large stone, half- buried in bramble and
fern, or amongst a mass of drifted rubbish brought down by
the stream during the winter floods. Less frequently it is
built on a low stump close to the water. The nest is very
similar to those of the other Wagtails, being carefully if
loosely put together. The outside is almost entirely com-
posed of dry roots and bits of coarse grass; the inside is
lined with finer roots and a thick bed of hair or feathers. In
nests which are lined with feathers, but little if any hair is used;
and in those which are lined with hair, feathers are seldom
seen. Hair is most frequently employed, being the easiest
to obtain, as masses of it can generally be found clinging to
posts and tree trunks where the cattle come to drink or rub
themselves. Year after year the Gray Wagtail returns to its
old nesting-place, and makes its new home a few feet away
from that of the previous season even if it is frequently dis-
turbed. We may thus infer that the birds pair for life. The
eggs are from four to six in number, and vary considerably in
coloration, although those in the same nest are generally
pretty uniform in tint. They vary from greenish -brown to

THE GRAY WAGTAIL 79

yellowish -brown in ground colour, mottled and spotted wdtli
darker brown. On some eggs a few nearly black streaks
occur on the larger end. The Gray Wagtail in some cases
rears two broods in the year, but this habit is not universal,
and I believe is very often the result of the first clutch of
eggs having been destroyed. Both birds assist in the duties
of incubation, and the sitting-bird is often fed on the nest by
its mate. Th-e young birds very often run out of the nest
before they can fly, and it is a pretty sight to watch the old birds
and their brood. If an intruder disturbs the family circle the old
birds keep up a rapid chorus of alarm-notes, running along the
ground and flitting from rock to rock, or perching in the
branches overhead. The nestlings may sometimes be seen
sitting on a stone in the middle of the water waiting for the
flies which their parents catch for them on the banks. Such
a scene speaks eloquently of peace, and forms a picture dear
to the heart of him who loves Nature and her works.

As soon as the young Wagtails can fly, the family party
is apt to stray from the neighbourhood of the nest, going
farther down the stream. The food of the Gray Wagtail is
almost exclusively composed of insects, small beetles and flies
being preferred. The bird also eats small moUusks, and I have
taken tiny seeds from its stomach during the winter months.
It may often be seen wading through the shallow water
wdien in search of food, and is very fond of washing itself.
As a musician the Gray Wagtail is not very distinguished,
.but its little song is in full harmony with the scenes it in-
habits, and forms a welcome variety to the murmuring of the
stream. Its sono- is short, and often uttered as the bird is
floating for a moment in mid-air. It is a simple little strain,
and puts you in mind of the notes of the Swallow ; but it is
not heard very often, and only in spring and early summer.

As a breeding species the White Wagtail {Motacilla alba)
is doubtless very often overlooked in the British Islands, and

8o OUR RARER BIRDS

I therefore call the attention of field naturalists to this
interesting species. It is readily distinguished from the well -
kno^Yn Pied Wagtail by its slate-gray upper plumage. In the
places it frequents, in its habits, nesting economy, colour of
the eggs, flight, song, and call -notes, it closely resembles its
common ally. The White Wagtail is really the continental
representative of the Pied Wagtail, which, with the exception
of South Norway, Holland, and the north-west of France, is
confined to the British Islands during the breeding season.

THE EOCK PIPIT

{Anthus obscurus)

Wherever the coast is rocky and there is some little
beach left at high water, we may almost be sure of meeting
with the Ptock Pipit, i^o part of the coast-line is too dreary
or too wild and lonely for the Kock Pipit, and its monotonous
chirp may be heard from the rocks at all seasons of the year.
In addition to the mainland there are few rocky islets in-
deed that do not contain this sober-looking little bird. I have
seen him repeatedly on the Bass Eock ; he is common on the
Feme Islands ; I have taken his nest on the wild islets of the
Hebrides, and met with him at St. Kilda. Everywhere his
habits are much the same. He is sure to intrude himself
upon your notice before you have been long in his haunt.
He is a restless little creature, and flits before you in short
flights from rock to rock, allowing you to approach him within
a few yards ; but if repeatedly alarmed or fired at, he often
rises into the air for some distance, and flies about in true
Pipit style, wavering and uncertain, now going some distance
out to sea, then returning to the land and perching perhaps
halfway up the cliffs, or on a big stone close to the flowing
tide. Although by no means gregarious in summer, you may
meet with many pairs of Eock Pipits along a short stretch of
coast or on the small islands. The food of this bird is
largely composed of insects, for which it searches amongst
the rocks and masses of seaweed left high and dry on the

6

82 OUR RARER BIRDS

beach. A small black fly which abounds on the wide ex-
panses of " bladder wrack " at low water is an especial object
of the Eock Pipit's quest ; and it searches about on the sandy
bits of shore and along the line of drift for anything suited
to its taste. Many insects are caught whilst the bird is
fluttering in the air ; and I have seen it in the fishermen's
gardens and potato patches searching for small worms and
oTubs. Durinsj autumn and winter it eats seeds of various
kinds, principally of those weeds and herbs that grow on the
waste ground near the shore and on the cliffs.

It is in the genial springtime that the Kock Pipit becomes
most interesting. Early in the vernal year the flocks of Eock
Pipits break up into pairs, and shortly afterwards the males
are full of song. There is nothing very imposing about this
little Pipit's refrain, but it relieves the monotony of many a
wild coast, and is a welcome variation to the eternal booming
of the surf against the rocks and shingle. Incessantly the male
warbles from the early dawn till evening's dusk settles over
the sea. The whole day long it is ever and anon fluttering
up into the air for some distance, then flying back to its
perching-place, warbling out its little song as it returns. The
bird generally rises uttering its sharp call-note till the zenith
of its flight is reached, then begins its song, which is continued
till it reaches the ground again. Very often it sits and
warbles on the rocks or on a big stone lying on the beach.
The Eock Pipit's song is equal perhaps in sweetness to that
of the Meadow Pipit, and resembles it in some particulars, but
it wants the rich melody and duration of that of the Tree
Pipit.

Like many other birds which pair early, the Eock Pipit
breeds rather late. April's fresh and vernal month has nearly
waned, and the sea-birds are fast settling down to the duties
of the year, before this species begins nest-building. Its nest
is rather difficult to find, owing to the care which the old

THE ROCK PIPIT 83

birds take in concealino- it under the bits of rock or amongst
the long grass and sea-campion on the top of the low cliffs
near the sea. I have found it in a disused Puffin's burrow,
also under a broad slab-like stone, and in the ruined walls of
a hut. I once met with it in a crevice of the cliffs close to
where a colony of Eazorbills were breeding. It is a simple
but well-made little structure, composed of fine and coarse
grass, and frequently lined with hair, if that material can be
obtained. I once found a nest of this bird on the Feme Islands,
in which a large white Gull's feather had been inserted in the
lining. The young naturalist will often feel puzzled over the
nest of the Eock Pipit, because the bird uses so many kinds
of materials in its fabrication. Some nests are almost ex-
clusively composed of moss; others have bits of seaweed
mixed amongst the usual materials. The nest is made at
varying distances from the water, sometimes close to the
waves, on the summit of the low rocks, at others far back
from high-water mark, amongst the rough sandy ground where
thistles and other tall weeds are plentiful. The eggs are four
or five in number, and are remarkably uniform in colour and
size. The ground colour is dirty bluish-white where it is
visible, and the markings, which profusely cover the surface,
are reddish or grayish brown. Some eggs are streaked with
darker brown on the large end. The markings are generally
small and scattered evenly over the surface, but occasionally
they are thickest on the large end, where they sometimes form
a zone or circular patch. The female sits closely, and when
the nest is discovered both birds become very anxious for the
safety of their treasure, flying wildly round and round, or
perching at a distance on some rock or stone, keeping up a
chorus of complaining notes. I have often approached the
nest within a few feet before the sittinsf-bird has fluttered out,
when her anxious cries soon brought the male upon the scene.
This is when the nest contains highly incubated eggs or

84 OUR RARER BIRDS

young birds ; if it contains fresh eggs only, the parents are
not nearly so anxious, and usually fly right away from the
vicinity. In some few cases the Eock Pipit may rear two
broods in the season ; but so far as my observations go, this
is the exception and not the rule.

AVhen the young are safe upon the wing and the moulting
season is almost over, the Eock Pipits gather into little
parties, and as the season advances these become flocks often
of considerable size. The Eock Pipits then leave many of
the more northern localities and visit the salt-marshes on the
low-lying coasts. ISTumbers of these birds come over the sea
from lands where the winters are too severe for them to find
food and shelter. I have seen Meadow Pipits and Snow
Buntings mix with flocks of this bird on the wild weedy
" saltings " and low scrub-clothed sand dunes in the Wash.
They are much shyer than in spring and summer, and the
least alarm sends the whole flock hurrying off in irregular
order, sometimes looking as if they were entirely at the
mercv of the winterv oale.

THE WOOD LAKK

(Alauda arborea)

There are few British birds more locally distributed than
the Wood Lark, and the farther north we go the rarer it
becomes. Although very closely resembling the Sky Lark
in its general appearance, it may readily be distinguished
from that bird, even on the wing, by its much shorter tail.
Its habits and the haunts it frequents are, however, very
different. We must not search for the Wood Lark on the
breezy upland pastures, or even in the wide expanse of
meadow land and common so dear to the Sky Lark, but in
localities where trees are numerous, with plenty of open
spaces between them, such as old parks and by the edges of
woods and plantations. It also loves the southern heaths,
which are generally thickly studded with bushes and small
trees. As its name rightly implies, it is a bird of the timber ;
where there are no trees we never find any Wood Larks.
This charming little songster is so much sought after by the
bird-catcher, its reputation as a cage bird being great, that in
many localities where it formerly used to be common it has
been w^antonly almost exterminated. When once settled in
a certain district it rarely strays far away during the summer,
and the observer will generally find it at home, no matter
what hour of the day he may seek it. In many of its habits
the Wood Lark very closely resembles the Tree Pipit. Like
that bird it has a favourite haunt to which it closely keeps ;

86 OUR RARER BIRDS

it also selects some bare branch from which it sallies into
the air to warble forth its song or alight after its aerial
journey.

As soon as the flocks of "Wood Larks have broken np in
the early spring, the cock spends most of his time in song.
He sings lustily from the branches of the trees, and even more
so when flying round and round high in air. He does not
soar so rapidly or so high as the Sky Lark, but flies more in
circles, and often poises and flutters a few yards above the
tree-tops. In the melody and richness of its tone the Wood
Lark's song is far superior to that of the Skylark. If not quite
so loud it is even more continuous, and there are parts of it
that ahnost rival the refrain of the Blackcap and the Nightin-
gale. The Wood Lark may almost be classed as a perennial
songster, for except in the moulting season it may be heard
right through the year, even in midwinter, when an unusual
interval of warm weather rarely fails to call it into voice.

Nowhere have I seen the Wood Lark so common as when
on a lovely May morning I came across quite a colony of
these birds amongst the wooded heights of the Aures
jMountains. They were in a little clearing amongst the dark
cedar forest, and the bracing mountain air was resonant with
their song. Although surrounded with many rare and beauti-
ful birds, the little Wood Lark seemed for the moment by far
the most interesting, and I sat and listened to his strains,
which so forcibly reminded me of far-off English woods and
groves, and which seemed to transport me in a moment from
Algerian wilds to the woodlands of Kent and Surrey, where
I have often heard his song. I could not help observing how
tame and trustful the bird was here — so different from my
experience of him in England. Although the forest was on
every side, I never noticed a Wood Lark in it ; they preferred
the open spaces where the trees had been felled by the French
foresters or their Eoman predecessors. As many as six birds

THE WOOD LARK 87

could be seen in the air together, all singing their loudest,
and very often one would sit on a low juniper bush and allow
me to approach within a few yards. I watched one of these
birds assist some Firecrests in mobbing a poor Kestrel that
quite unintentionally intruded upon their haunt, and then
soar into the air and warble a song of triumph as the big
bird disappeared amongst the gloomy cedars. Upon the
ground the Wood Lark is very active, running hither and
thither in search of food, and occasionally standing for a few
moments on a clod of earth. In this country it often lies so
close amongst the herbage as to be almost trodden upon
before it takes wing. When rising it generally utters a
musical double-note very similar to that of the Sky Lark.
Although so fond of perching in trees it never roosts in them,
but sleeps upon the ground among the herbage.

The food of the Wood Lark in summer is principally com-
posed of insects and larvae. The bird is especially fond of
small beetles and worms, but in autumn and winter its diet is
considerably changed, and it appears to live almost exclusively
on small seeds and even the tender shoots of herbage. This
complete change of food is a curious and interesting fact in
the economy of many of our resident birds. Such seed-eating
species as Buntings and Finches, and berry-eating birds as
Thrushes, all live more or less exclusively on insects in spring
and summer, and on them their young are reared. Being
thus able to adapt themselves to whatever food is at hand,
they remain in this country when such birds as the Warblers,
the Swallows, and the Goatsucker are compelled to seek more
genial climes when their insect food becomes scarce.

The Wood Lark pairs very early in the spring, and soon
after sets about nesting duties. It is a comparatively early
breeder, even more so than the Sky Lark, and what is still
more interesting it very probably pairs for life. Eegularly
every springtime we find the old accustomed haunts tenanted ;

OUR RARER BIRDS

even the same dead brancli on some particular tree is used
for a perching-place as before, and the nest is built on the
same bit of ground as it was the preceding season. This I
find almost invariably to be the case in places where the
birds are left unmolested. In the boisterous March days I
often see the Wood Lark chase its mate with great rapidity
over the tall bushes, warbling hurriedly all the time ; and
sometimes two rival males will vie with each other in trying
to gain the affections of a female, crouching low down in the
herbage, listening, as it were, to the clear tuneful melody
poured forth for her own special advantage. The nest is built
in various situations, sometimes very much exposed, but more
often artfully concealed under the shelter of a bush or
behind a tuft of coarse grass. You may sometimes find it
cunningly hidden under a mass of briars through which the
coarse herbage grows luxuriantly, and by way of contrast to
such a situation it may occasionally be seen wedged tightly
in the footprint of a horse or a cow amongst the short turf
in a bare part of the park. It is a simple structure, made
externally of coarse grass and moss, and lined with finer
grasses and a little hair. In many nests the latter material
is omitted, the birds not beinf]^ able to obtain it. The eo-crs
are four or five in number, and differ considerably from those
of the Sky Lark. They are huffish or greenish-wdiite in
ground colour, spotted with reddish-browm and paler markings
of violet-gray. The character of the markings varies a good
deal, but generally the eggs in a nest resemble each other.
Some eggs are evenly marked over the entire surface; in
others the spots are collected in a zone or circular patch on
the large end or in a band round the middle. The collector
will find that in the eggs of the Wood Lark the ground colour
is much more distinct and the markings more clearly defined
than in those of the Sky Lark. They are also on an average
rather smaller than those of the latter bird. As is the case

THE WOOD LARK 89

with most small birds breediug on the ground, the Wood
Lark is a close sitter and rarely leaves the nest until almost
trod upon.' In some cases two broods are reared in the year,
the young being abandoned as soon as they are able to fly
and forasje for themselves.

At the approach of autumn's mellow days, when the
woods begin to glow with those bewitching tints of decay
that are even fairer than the delicate greens of spring, the
Wood Lark's habits chansje. It then beoins to collect in
flocks, which wander about a good deal in search of food, but
it never unites in such enormous gatherings as the Sky
Lark. A few Wood Larks often join a party of Sky Larks
in the winter months, from which they are easily separated
by their proneness to alight on the nearest trees when the
flock is disturbed. When flushed from the pastures which
they often frequent at this season, the birds rise one by one
or in twos and threes, utteriug their liquid musical double-
note, some to take refuge in the tall trees, others to fly a little
distance just above the ground and alight again.

By the way, in spite of what the greatest living compiler
of natural-history books may state to the contrary, and who
so recently as the spring of the present year gravely tells us
that the Sky Lark " is incapable of perching on branches,"
that bird does sometimes alight in trees ; and there is
nothing in the anatomy of its feet to prevent it indulging in
such a practice. Notwithstanding all our progress, the school-
master, though very much abroad, has still a great deal to
accomplish. I have heard the Wood Lark warble on the
ground in winter, and its regular song commences in mild
forward seasons as early as February, when the flocks begin
to disperse.

THE CIEL BUNTING AND SNOW BUNTING

(Ember iza cirlus and E. nivalis)

Amongst the pleasant fields and on the wooded commons
of the southern counties the naturalist will sometimes have
the c^ood fortune to meet with the rare Girl Buntins^, a bird
very closely resembling the Yellow Bunting, but easily
distinguished by its dark-green instead of bright-yellow crown,
and by its olive-green rump and upper tail coverts, which in
the common species are bright chestnut. The Girl Bunting
is a very local bird and confines itself almost exclusively to
fields where there are tall trees in the hedges, and to the
margins of woods and plantations. It is somewhat singular
that the Girl Buntincj is so fastidious in its choice of a haunt,
when we know its close relation, the Yellow Bunting, is one
of the most widely dispersed of birds. Probably the absence
of certain favourite food is the reason of its local distribution ;
and I am bold enough to hazard the conjecture that the
abundance of the grasshopper in our southern counties is the
secret of the Girl Bunting's presence in them, that insect
being the food on which its young are chiefly reared.

The Girl Bunting frequents the tall trees rather tlian the
lower vegetation, and as it is rather a skulking bird it is apt
to be overlooked. It is, however, a most industrious musician,
and its song proclaims its presence to him who is conversant
with the notes of birds. This resembles very closely the Yellow
Bunting's love song, but wants the long-drawn note which

THE CIRL BUNTING

usually terminates that bird's refrain. The Yellow Bunting
will sit delicately poised on some tall bending twig at the
top of the hedge and sing incessantly even though we are
close at hand ; but the shy little Cirl Bunting is much more
wary, and too close observation invariably sends him into
the thickest parts of the trees, where he remains concealed
until the danger has passed or he regains his confidence and
hops out on to a bare branch and sings once more. The
song begins in April with the advent of spring, and is con-
tinued through the summer, becoming less frequent in June
and July, and finally terminating in the autumnal moult. I
have heard this little bird sing in autumn, but the event is
rare and may be classed with the uncertain music of the
Chaffinch at that season.

The Cirl Bunting, although it spends the greater part of
its time amongst the branches, visits the ground to search for
food, and there its actions are very similar to those of its
congener. In spring it often visits the newly-sown land to
pick up the scattered grain, and in autunm it frequents the
broad brown stubbles for a similar purpose. It may be seen
hopping about the rough weedy pastures, occasionally running
a few feet to catch an insect. When flushed it rises quickly,
and its flight is very much like that of the Yellow Bunting —
powerful, but drooping, erratic, and undecided. When at rest
on a twig it frequently wafts its tail up and down, and is
incessantly uttering its harsh call-note. Early in the vernal
year the Cirl Bunting becomes very pugnacious, and rival males
often chase each other through the trees with great rapidity,
all the time uttering a series of sharp call-notes. The pairing
season is at hand, and shortly afterwards we may expect to
find the simple little nest. There is much in the nesting
economy of the Cirl Bunting which is interesting. In the
first place the nest is generally built at some distance from
the ground, rarely on it. A site is often selected amongst the

92 6*67^ RARER BIRDS

dense and impenetrable branches of the prickly furze, or
under the lonoj trailinsf wires of the bramble and the do£j rose
which arch gracefully over it. AVhen on the ground the nest
is built in a little hollow on a bank or behind a tuft of grass
at the foot of the trees. It is a slight structure, made ex-
ternally of coarse grass, dead leaves, and roots, and lined with
finer roots and a little hair. The Cirl Bunting obtains much
of its nest material from the heaps of "twitch" or "bull polls"
which are collected from the fields in spring and burned.
The e^jG^s are four or five in number, bluish-white in oround
colour, blotched, spotted, streaked, and scratched in true
Bunting style with dark liver-brown. The eggs very closely
resemble those of the Yellow Bunting, but when compared
are much more rotund, the pencilled markings are darker, and
the ground colour is more blue than purple. The female bird
performs the task of incubation, and during the whole of the
period the male seldom strays far, but sits on the neighbouring
trees and cheers her with his simple song.

The food of the Cirl Bunting is composed of various kinds
of insects in summer, and in autumn and winter this fare
is varied with seeds of many kinds and grain. In autumn
Cirl Buntinc^s crather into little flocks, and often minole with
Yellow Buntings, Greenfinches, Chaffinches, and Bramblings,
frequenting the fields and tangled hedges, where newly sown
grain and the seeds of tall weeds furnish an abundant supply
of food.

The second of these little choristers is a winter visitor to
our shores — an arctic stranger driven southwards by the
severity of the polar winter. I am, however, perfectly con-
vinced that this bird breeds on the Grampians, although I
have never actually seen the nest or the young — hence my
reason for inserting this species among our rarer birds. It is
a thorough little bird of the snow and the arctic regions — a
gipsy migrant that never seems settled here, and always

THE SNOW BUNTING 93

hurries north as soon as the frost subsides, to be driven back
again by the next snowstorm. In this country we must not
look for the Snow Bunting in the inland districts ; the
weather must be severe, and the frost long continued indeed,
that drives this charming little bird so far from the coast. It
comes in October, and loves to frequent the wild, rough
ground near the sea — the weedy salt-marshes, reclaimed land,
and extensive sand dunes that skirt the waves are its
favourite haunts. During exceptionally severe winters I have
known parties of these birds visit our inland woods and
fields, and for the time beinsj unite with flocks of Bramblinos ;
but they never stay long, and are off back again to their
usual haunts at the first sign of a thaw. A flock of Snow
Buntings is one of the prettiest sights to be seen along the
wild bleak coast in winter. Like big black and white butter-
flies they flutter along close to the ground before the observer,
or nestle amono- the shinole for shelter from the storm. It
is a pretty sight to watch these charming little arctic strangers
on a lowering day in midwinter, when each moment we expect
to see real instead of feathered "snowflakes" coursing through
the air. They seem to bring the romance of the arctic regions
with them, and as we watch them fly in undecided course
along the shingly beach our thoughts turn unconsciously
towards the North Pole and its many mysteries. Any one of
these little black and white strangers fluttering before us
may have been born at the very Pole itself. It is probably
much more familiar with the aspect of the country there than
it is with this bit of rouuh Lincolnshire salt-marsh. Its race
has solved the problem ages ago which all the skill and learn-
ing, pluck and endurance, of man has hitherto failed to
accomplish. These little birds are perfectly at home amongst
the snow. They run along the surface with dainty steps like
a Wagtail, or if occasion requires hop just like a Sparrow.
In some parts of Enaland the early arrival of the Snow

94 OUR RARER BIRDS

Buntinf:^ is reo-arded as tlie forerunner of a lonsj and severe
winter.

It has been stated in works on ornithology that the Snow
Bunting never perches in a tree. He cannot well do so in
the usual districts he frequents, far above the northern limits
of such vegetation, for the simple reason that trees do not exist ;
but in this country I have repeatedly seen flocks of Snow
Buntings perch in trees, and I have shot them from the
branches. I have also seen them perch on telegraph wires.
The same erroneous impression widely prevails respecting
Wagtails ; but they perch freely in trees, and the Gray Wag-
tail especially takes refuge in a tree, when flushed from the
bed of the dancing upland -stream. The Snow Bunting,
however, obtains its food on the ground, and this is chiefly
composed of seeds of various kinds during the bird's sojourn
in this country. In its summer home insects form its princi-
pal food, but it also eats the buds of plants. During excep-
tionally hard weather the Snow Bunting frequents the hard
country roads, hopping about along the tracks made by the
farmers' carts, and feeding on the droppings from the horses.
It will also venture near to man's habitation when the snow
is too deep for it to reach the seeds of grasses and weeds, and
pick up a meal from the corn-stacks. After a heavy fall of
snow, flocks of these birds may sometimes be seen wheeling
and flying about in a very erratic and undecided manner ;
and they soon desert a district if the ground remains long
covered, returning when the thaw begins. Snow Buntings
leave our coasts early in spring, being amongst the
first birds to arrive in the arctic regions after the winter is
over.

Of the habits of the Snow Bunting during the breeding
season I know nothing from personal observation. Specimens
of its nest which I have examined are very pretty structures,
made of dry grass, roots, moss, and slender twigs, and lined

THE SNOW BUNTING 95

with hair and feathers and even vegetable down. The eggs,
six or seven in number, are bluish or yellowish white in
ground colour, spotted and blotched with rich reddish-brown,
and occasionally pencilled with a few streaks of still darker
colour. The eggs are not at all typical of a Bunting's, being
not nearly so much streaked, and resemble somewhat those of
the Common Bunting, but are of course much smaller.

THE HAWFINCH

{Coccothraiistes vulgaris)

Owing to its skulking habits and shy timid disposition,
the Hawfinch is thought to be much rarer than it really is.
A bird of conspicuous plumage, it loves to hide amongst the
dense vegetation of the woods and shrubberies and orchards,
only venturing out to feed when all is quiet, especially in
early morning, and hurrying back again into the cover at the
least alarm. So retiring is this fine handsome bird that
several pairs may take up their residence in a quiet corner of
the woods or orchard and remain unobserved for months. I
often meet with the Hawfinch at dusk amongst the gloomy-
looking yews under which I am standing on the look-out for
my little feathered friends, the Eedwings and the Bullfinches.
Perhaps it has been feeding amongst the distant beech trees,

THE HAWFINCH 97

and it flies stealthily up to the evergreens, perching a moment
on some outlying branch, then rapidly hopping into the thickest
cover. The Hawfinch is astir early in the morning, and then
I often see him upon the ground, where he looks remarkably
clumsy and out of place, searching amongst the grass for
seeds, or turning over the brown beech leaves in quest of
fallen mast.

It is curious how the habits of some birds are precisely
the same in this country as they are in distant lands, where
one would naturally expect to find them considerably modified,
owing to the altered conditions of their surroundings. I had
many opportunities of studying the habits of the Hawfinch
in the evergreen oak forests of Northern Africa. One would
almost be led to think that the cause of the bird's shyness in
England was owing to the manner in which it is persecuted
by gardeners and collectors, if we did not find it just as wild
and wary in these forest solitudes where it is never molested
by man. I first met with the Hawfinches in a clearing of the
forest, where the trees were scattered up and down in little
clusters, and, as a rule, it was only when they flew from tree
to tree that I could get a view of them. Sometimes I observed
them sitting quietly amongst the branches, turning their large
heads from side to side in evident alarm, and peering about
in all directions as if in search of the danger. The flight of
the Hawfinch is undulating, but sometimes straightforward,
and is then very rapid. As the birds flew from tree to tree I
noticed that they usually dropped down into the branches in
preference to flying up into them from below. When sitting
in the trees the males occasionally uttered a twittering note
which put me in mind of the Greenfinch. In fact, the Haw-
finch possesses slight claim to rank as a songster ; in the
vernal year it utters a few loud notes which might almost be
called monotonous, if several birds did not join in the chorus,
when the general eftect is far from unpleasing. Many birds

7

OUR RARER BIRDS

love to percli in conspicuous positions when engaged in song ;
but tlie Hawfinch twitters from the dense recesses of the foliage
and keeps well out of sight amongst the trees.

The food of the Hawfinch varies a good deal, according to
the season of the j^ear. Thus in spring and summer he lives
almost exclusively on insects and fruit. He visits the garden
for peas and currants, and frequents the orchard in cherry
time, always preferring the hard stone of that fruit to its rich
luscious covering. In autumn various berries and nuts are
eaten. He is passionately fond of beech-mast and the seeds
of the hornbeam ; whilst in winter he often makes a meal
on the hawthorn berries. Yew berries are eaten in great
quantities ; and in early summer caterpillars are devoured,
this latter food being the principal sustenance of the young
birds.

The Hawfinch may pair in spring, but not a twig is crossed

in furtherance of a nest until the first faint signs of summer

are spreading over the fields and woods. It is not until the

orchard trees have lost much of their pink and white vernal

glory, and the leaves are out full and dense, that the Hawfinch

seeks a site for its nest. It is not until the big horse chestnuts

appear like spiked mountains of bloom, and the hawthorns are

rich with fragrant flowers, or the beech woods are clothed with

bright green summer garniture, that this shy bird begins to

build her home. She must have i^lenty of shelter for it and

for herself ere she dare venture to commence it. Curiously

enough the Hawfinch shows little partiality for the evergreens

as a nesting-place, although occasionally it makes use of a yew

or a holly, and more frequently the thick clustering ivy

growing round some forest giant, for its purpose. The nest is

often built in a fork of the apple or pear tree, near the trunk

on a beech or elm, or in a whitethorn or an oak. Sometimes

it is only a few feet from the ground ; but frequently as much

as fifty or sixty feet above it. Although the bird is by no

THE HAWFINCH 99

means gregarious in the breeding season, several nests may
often be found quite close together in localities where suitable
nesting-places are rare. I have noticed a similar peculiarity
in the Stormcock and the Greenfinch. Few of our British
nests exceed in wild rustic beauty that of the Hawfinch. It
puts you in mind of the Bullfinch's cradle, only it is much
larger and more compactly woven. The outside is formed of
fine twigs, often those of the birch and beech being selected,
intermixed with stalks of weeds, bits of lichen, roots, and
scraps of moss, and sometimes one or two dead leaves. This
rude cup is lined with dry grass and finer roots and hair. In
shape it is rather flat and somewhat bulky, but is always
neatly finished. The eggs are five or six in number, and are
laid towards the middle of May. They are pale olive-green
or brownish-buff in ground colour, streaked out and spotted
with dark greenish-brown, and paler markings of gray. j\Iany
eggs are almost as much streaked as those of the Yellow
Bunting. They cannot readily be confused with those of any
other British species. Throughout the whole season of incuba-
tion the parent Hawfinches are most careful not to betray the
whereabouts of their nest, going and coming with stealthy
quietness. The hen bird hatches the eggs, but both parents
are assiduous in bringing food for the young. As soon as the
young birds are able to leave the nest their parents lead them
to the neighbouring gardens and orchards, where they make
sad havoc amongst the green peas and ripening cherries. But
let not the gardener be too severe on these handsome birds ;
they deserve a share of the fruit after ridding garden and
orchard of many noxious insects and grubs. Besides, the
gardener is apt to do far more mischief in a moment by dis-
charging his gun amongst the fruit trees than a whole family
of Hawfinches would accomplish in a year.

As the season wanes these little parties of Hawfinches
often congregate into much larger flocks, and frequent the

loo OUR RARER BIRDS

beech woods and other districts where their favourite food
abounds. The young and their parents in most cases keep
together throughout the winter, and so far as I can learn
only one brood is reared in the season.

The Tree Sparrow {Passer montanus), as one of our rarer
birds, here claims a passing notice. It is distinguished from
the House Sparrow by its slightly smaller size, chestnut head
and nape, black ear-coverts encircled by white, and double
wing-bar. Another interesting character is that the sexes
are alike in colour. This species loves the wilderness ; it is
a bird of the open country, the pine woods and quarries near
the moors remote from houses, and is rarely seen in towns.
I had the good fortune to meet with this bird in St, Kilda,
where it breeds in the rough walls and amongst the boulders.
It is a remarkably active bird, flies quickly, is shy and wary,
and its note is much more shrill and musical. It breeds in
April, making a warm nest of dry grass, roots, moss, wool,
and feathers either in a hole in a tree, a crevice of a rock or
a wall, or under the eaves of a barn or shed in the fields.
The eggs are five or six in number, and are subject to the
same amount of variation as those of the House Sparrow,
from which they are only distinguished by their smaller size.
The food of the Tree Sparrow^ is similar to that of its ally —
insects, larvae, seeds, and grain. In autumn its numbers are
increased by birds from the north of Europe, which migrate
in flocks ; but the bird is much less gregarious than the House
Sparrow, with whom it sometimes associates, and in most
districts may be observed in pairs throughout the year.

THE SISKIN AND TWITE

(Fringilla sinnus and F. flavirostris)

The Siskin is one of the smallest of the British Finches,
and also one of the most interesting. It is a bird of the wild
northern pine woods, only wandering sonth in winter, and
seems to take the place of the Greenfinch in the evergreens
of the north. A few birds remain over the summer in their
southern haunts, but it is only as a winter visitor that it is
common. Let us study the habits of this charming little
bird during the autumn and winter months before we
accompany it on its northern flight to the wild mountain
forests where it builds its nest.

Siskins unite into flocks of varying size, and appear once
more in their usual haunts by the end of September or early
in October. Sometimes we only meet with a small party of
these engaging little creatures, or even a solitary bird attaches
itself to a company of Titmice or Lesser Eedpoles — the large
flocks are exceptional gatherings, to be observed in severe
winters or in localities where food is unusually plentiful.
We may meet with the little Siskin wherever the alder or fir
trees flourish. A favourite haunt is along the fringe of
alders that skirt the stream; and as these trees shed their
leaves pretty early, we have a good opportunity of watching
the actions of the busy little birds. They search the trees
just like Titmice, clinging to the clusters of seeds, swaying
to and fro, now with head downwards, now with wings

I02 OUR RARER BIRDS

fluttering rapidly as they poise before a twig, on which per-
chance some insect is lurking. From tree to tree they move
in drooping flight, uttering their low Tit-like call-note — a rapid
ti-ti-ti-ti — as they go. Xow you may see them clinging with
one leg, swinging backwards and forwards like a pendulum ;
or perched on the stouter branches, they pause a moment to
clean their sharp little bill of the bits of seed that cling to
it. They are by no means shy, and allow you to follow them
the whole range of the trees without displaying the least
alarm. The Siskin rarely visits the ground. I have some-
times seen it on the rough clover stubbles, in company with
Lesser Eedpoles, feeding on the small seeds. As soon as the
autumn moult is over the little Siskin regains his song,
and may be heard to warble at intervals right through
the winter ; but it is in springtime that he sings most in-
dustriously, and at all hours of the day his voice sounds
faintly from the firs. The song is a simple one, merely a few
rapidly uttered notes, which perhaps sound to best advantage
when the bird is hovering in the air, which he often does at
pairing time. In autumn and winter the Siskin lives princi-
pally on seeds of various kinds and farinaceous buds. Alder
seeds are the Siskin's favourite food, and whenever these trees
may chance to bear an unusual crop, which is by no means
every season, these birds are sure to be common.

As soon as the first signs of spring creep over the northern
larch and fir forests, the Siskins desert their southern quarters.
The alder swamps have now lost their charm, and the southern
plantations no longer form a fitting home for these little
Finches. They are impelled northwards by resistless impulse
to fly ; dim recollections of the distant pine forests seem to
enter their little minds, and before the rude winds of March
are finally hushed our merry restless Siskins are safe back
at home. The nest of the Siskin is very difficult to find, and
no wonder, for such a tiny home requires the sharpest eyes

THE SISKIN

103

to find it snugly hidden away some forty feet up the pine or
fir tree's dense and gloomy branches. You may wander for
hours up and down these orand old woods, strugorlinfT through
the dense lower branches without finding a tree which may
possibly contain a Siskin's nest. And then, when the tree
by chance is found, the search is by no means over, and hours
may elapse before the tiny nest is discovered at last. It
resembles that of the Lesser Eedpole, and is usually built on
one of the flat branches that grow almost horizontally from
the trunk. Dry grass, moss, and rootlets form the outer
structure, and this is lined wdth vegetable down and occasion-
ally a few feathers. I have taken from a dense larch planta-
tion the nest of this bird, in which the lining was composed
of hair and one or two white feathers. The eggs are five or
six in number, bluish-green in ground colour, spotted with
dark liver-brown and a few paler marks of gray. On some
eggs a few streaks may be seen. They very closely resemble
certain eggs of the Lesser Eedpole, and from those of the
Goldfinch they are quite indistinguishable. In many cases
the Siskin rears two broods in the season, and the female
performs the task of incubation. When the nest is menaced by
danger the little birds become very anxious and flit about from
tree to tree in a restless manner, often betraying the wdiere-
abouts of their treasure by their great solicitude for its safety.
Very similar to the Siskin in its annual movements is
the Twite, only instead of pine woods it loves to frequent
in summer the broad treeless tracts of Grouse moor. In winter,
when the moors are too barren and dreary for this sober little
bird, it leaves them and seeks the lowland pastures and
stubbles, where it awaits the return of spring. It may be
readily distinguished from its relations, the Linnet and the
Eedpole, by the absence of the claret coloured patch on the
head and breast, and in spring and summer a further point
of distinction is to be found in its yellow bill.

I04 OUR RARER BIRDS

To the breezy moors then we will bend our steps, and
study the habits of the Twite during its breeding season.
We will pass by the Grouse crowing lustily from the heather,
and only take a passing glance at the Eing Ousel in his white
cravat, as he sits and pipes his loud refrain on the rough walls
and rock boulders, and hasten onwards to where the heath is
long on the sides of the rough valley, at the bottom of which a
mountain stream goes merrily dancing over the big stones.
The Twite is by no means a shy bird ; in nine cases out of
ten we first see him sitting on the top of a heather bush
uttering his peculiar note, which our imagination likens to
the bird's name — a long-drawn twa-ite. He flits from bush
to bush before us, or, suddenly rising into the air, makes a
long detour and returns to his old haunt. It is late in spring,
and the Twite is therefore full of music. This somewhat
resembles the song of the Linnet, but is neither so loud, so
sweet, nor so varied. Nevertheless it forms a pleasing relief
to the bird's monotonous haunt, and serves to enliven scenes
where bird music is by no means plentiful.

The Twite has visited these moorland wastes for the
purpose of rearing its young, and early in May it seeks out
a site for the nest. This is generally built amongst the
heather, close to the ground, and in many cases on the ground
itself. Both birds assist in making the nest, which is a
neat structure composed of dry grass, dead twigs of heath,
roots, and a little moss, beautifully and warmly lined with
rootlets, wool, and feathers, and occasionally with hair and
vegetable down. In this warm little nest the female lays
four or five eggs, greenish-blue or bluish-white in ground
colour, spotted with dark brown and an occasional darker
streak. If disturbed at the nest the sitting-bird flits hurriedly
away, often hurrying through the tall heather for some
distance before rising, and then perching at no great distance
to watch the intruder. Uneasily it flits from branch to

THE SISKIN 105

branch ; or if the eggs are quite fresh it soraetimes flies right
away, and we see no more of it.

Durinfj the breedinf? season the Twite lives on numerous
insects, especially a small black beetle; but in autumn it
changes its diet considerably, and subsists almost entirely on
seeds until the following spring. In autumn the Twite
collects into flocks, which wander from the moors to the
cultivated lowlands. We often see them on the stubbles or
the weedy pastures which the Sky Lark loves, and not un-
frequently a flock may be seen amongst the meadow grass.
Here their habits and actions are very similar to those of the
Linnet and the Eedpole. These flocks of Twites often keep
together till very late in the spring and long after the birds
have reached their summer haunts on the moors. I have
seen the Twite in flocks as late as the end of May ; and in
St. Kilda in early June numbers of these birds, mostly young
ones, were feeding on the weedy grass lands. When alarmed
the whole flock rise simultaneously and career about the air,
uttering their musical twittering call-notes ; and even in
winter the males occasionally indulge in little bursts of song.

THE CEOSSBILL

(Loona curvirostra)

Before leaving the Finches we must pay a little attention
to the habits and economy of one of the most singular species
in this large and important family of birds. This is the
Common Crossbill, one of a little group of species that differs
from all other known birds in the formation of the bill. As
the name aptly implies, the two mandibles, instead of being
one exactly under the other, as in most birds, cross each
other at the tip, in some species for a considerable distance.
It is also a curious fact that the young birds are hatched

THE CROSSBILL 107

with their beaks of the normal shape, not attaining this
singular development for some time afterwards. This singular
shaped bill, however, is of great service to the Crossbill,
enabling it to split open with ease the fir and larch cones and
other seeds, which are enclosed in hard cases. So far its
structural peculiarities ; now let us attend to its life-history.

The Common Crossbill is one of those birds which is
singularly uncertain in its appearance, and is best known as
a winter visitor to this country. Its migrations are very
irregular, and resemble those of the Snow Bunting and the
AVaxwing. Crossbills may be remarkably plentiful one season
and not be seen again in any numbers for years. They are
equally capricious in the choice of a haunt, appearing suddenly
in one locality and remaining for weeks, then just as suddenly
disappearing again and not returning for many years. If they
stay and breed in a district one spring, it is by no means cer-
tain or probable that they will continue to do so the next,
except in the pine districts of the north, where the bird is of
tolerably regular residence. Crossbills are very gregarious
birds, and are more or less sociable throughout the year, even
in the breeding season, when little parties of males may often
be met with in the woods. If comparatively rare birds, they
are by no means shy ones, and allow the observer to approach
quite close and watch them climb about the branches in
quest of cones and berries, and to admire the rich contrast of
their brilliant upper plumage with the dark green firs. Their
actions in the branches very closely resemble those of a
Siskin or a Titmouse. Sometimes they climb about assisted
by their beak, like a Parrot. They cHng to the extremities of
the twigs, where the finest cones are found, and dexterously
wrench them off and then convey them to the broader limbs,
where, holding them in their claw firmly wedged against the
bark, the strong bill with a peculiar twist soon breaks away the
outer covering and exposes the kernel. They are very restless

io8 OUR RARER BIRDS

birds, and flit in undulating course from tree to tree, all the
time keeping up an intermittent cliorus of twittering notes
which sound something like the syllables si-si-si, sometimes
loud and piercing, sometimes low and guttural. When flying
from the observer, the brilliant red or yellow plumage on
the backs of males and females shows out very distinctly, and
is a useful aid in identifying the birds.

The food of the Crossbill is composed largely of the seeds
of coniferous trees ; the bird also eats various kinds of berries
and fruits, especially apples, w^hich it splits open to obtain the
pips ; and in summer insects and larva3 of different kinds
are preyed upon. It is very probable that the young are
reared almost exclusively on an insect diet, perhaps varied
with the smaller fruits. Crossbills often mix with other
birds, apparently for no other reason than that of companion-
ship, and may frequently be observed in company with Siskins
and other tree-hauntiiig species.

At the approach of the breeding season much of the Cross-
bill's trustfulness passes away, and it gradually becomes a shy
skulking bird. It is one of the earliest birds to breed, certainly
the earliest of all the British Finches. Its breeding grounds
are chiefly in the pine woods, although the nest is occasionally
made amongst deciduous vegetation. I once knew a nest of
this bird built high up in a dense whitethorn hedge, close to
a wood which Crossbills had frequented through the winter.
The nest is built at various heights from the ground, the
favourite situation being in a fork of the branches, near the top
of the tree, or in a prong of some horizontal limb, at some dis-
tance from the trunk. It very closely resembles that of the
Bullfinch — a rustic structure, in which many fine twigs are
used in forming the outside framework. Some nests are
made externally, almost entirely of the dead twigs of the fir ;
and the inner nest is made of dry grass and moss, and occasion-
ally a flake or two of the thin pine bark. It is finally lined

THE CROSSBILL 109

with wool and feathers, and sometimes a little hair. In this
nest the female lays four or five eggs, pale bluish-white in
ground colour, spotted with dark brown, and occasionally
streaked with still darker colour. Eggs of the Greenfinch are
absolutely indistinguishable from those of the present bird.
The eggs are often laid by the end of February or early in
March. I do not think that the Crossbill rears more than
one brood in the year, and the late nests of this species which
are occasionally met with doubtless belong to birds whose
earlier efforts were unfortunate.

As soon as the young can fiy, the families of Crossbills
begin their wandering life again, sometimes uniting into small
flocks, and for the remainder of the year are thorough little
nomads, with no fixed home, but appearing to hunt incessantly
for districts where their favourite food is plentiful. They
thus belong to a class of birds which ornithologists have very
aptly called " gipsy migrants." AYe have many of these birds
which pay us their uncertain visits from time to time, amongst
which may be mentioned the Snow Bunting, the Waxwing,
and the Shore Lark. These birds are migrants, but have no
settled winter home, and are constantly roving about, just
on the borders of the frost, flying north with open weather,
and coming south again with the returning frost.

Much confusion and more difference of opinion exists as
to the extraordinary variation in the plumage of the Crossbill.
The question is too complicated for discussion here, but is
casually alluded to, as it still affords an opportunity for much
further investigation and research by naturalists favourably
stationed for observing this singular bird.

THE CHOUGH

{Pyrrhocorax graculus)

From causes that baffle all conjecture to explain them, this
handsome rock-bird is gradually becoming rarer and rarer in
this country. Pormerly it had its noisy colonies on many an
inland cliff, but at the present day it only frequents a few
favoured localities on the rock-bound coasts. It may be that
the Jackdaw is slowly driving out the Chough, or the spread
of nineteenth- century civilisation is too much opposed to its
retiring habits and love of solitude. Whatever be the cause
of its disappearance, we have now to repair to the wildest and
most inaccessible parts of the rock-bound coasts if we wdsh to
see the handsome Chough at home. The Chough lives in
societies like the Jackdaw, and many of its habits are very
similar to those of that well-known species. It is one of the
greatest of ornithological pleasures to sit upon the top of
some ocean cliff, or find a resting-place on its rugged sides,
and w^atch the various birds around you. By very force of
contrast the Choughs claim your attention first. They are
such conspicuous objects, flying to and fro along the face of
the mighty cliffs, their glossy black dress in strong contrast
to the fluttering snow-white Gulls, the deep blue sky, and
the lime and chalk of the rocks. As they play and buffet
each other in the air, or fly quickly past, the long bright red
bill is very conspicuous and serves to identify the species at
a orlance. The note is very similar to that of the Jackdaw,

THE CHOUGH

as is also their flight, which is performed by a series of rapid
beats of the wings. They are gifted with no small powers
of flight, and often tumble and toy with each other in the air,
especially during the love season in spring.

Although the Chough establishes its noisy colonies in the
ocean cliffs, it leaves them to feed on the fields and pastures
inland, where it may often be seen walking about amongst
the feeding cattle, mingling with Eooks and Starlings. I
have seen it follow the plough in early spring, where its
actions were precisely similar to those of the Jackdaw,
running up and down over the clods of earth and along the
smooth straight furrows ; but it is a much more wary bird,
and generally contrives to keep well out of danger. The
Chough is an early bird astir, and begins his search for food
before sunrise. This food consists largely of worms and
grubs, but in spring and autumn grain is eaten in large
quantities. The bird may sometimes be seen on the beach
hunting about amongst the rocks and shingle at low water
for anything eatable. When feeding, the Chough is almost
as restless as the Starling, running hither and thither, often
flying for a few yards, rising in the air and dropping again.

If the Chough does not frequent inland cliffs in this
country now, it does so in Northern Africa ; and I have a
vivid remembrance of several large colonies of these birds I
met with in the noble chain of the Aures Mountains, at the
eastern limits of the Great Atlas range. Their habits here
were much the same as on English cliffs ; but I know no
place in our islands where fifty or more birds can be seen in
the air at once. One of these colonies was situated in a low
ridge of rocks on the side of a stony valley, near the snow-
capped summit of Djebel Mahmel. The country there is so
sterile and barren that I was often puzzled how the birds
could find a sustenance. I watched them in parties beating
along the face of the rugged mountain side, and saw them

112 OUR RARER BIRDS

repeatedly drop suddenly down amongst the rocks, apparently
in search of some particular kind of food. Every now and
then one or two birds would enter their nest-holes, or just as
frequently a pair would fly hurriedly out of them. Another
of these colonies of Choughs was situated on the very summit
of one of the highest mountains in a ridge of rocks commanding
a magnificent view of the forest-clad hills. As I rode up the
steep path the report of my gun, as I occasionally secured
some rare bird, frightened the Choughs from their nests, and
they commenced circling about in the air high overhead and
far beyond range, uttering their shrill cries, which resounded
through the woods and echoed again amongst the rocks. I
saw one or two of these birds alight now and then upon the
open spaces of herbage at the foot of the cliffs, and search
amongst dung for insects and beetles. I never saw the
Chough alight in the cedar trees, but always on the rock-
shelves or in the crevices where it makes its nest. The wild
notes of the Choughs were in beautiful harmony with the
srandeur of the scene as the birds fluttered amongst the clifl's,
or buffeted each other high up in the brilliant blue sky, or
sailed dreamily above the lofty mountain tops clothed to their
very summits with hoary cedar trees.

The Chough, unlike most other birds of the Crow tribe
found in this country, is a rather late breeder, resembling the
Jackdaw in this respect. The Eaven begins patching up her
old nest before the wintery snows have departed ; the Magpie
and the Carrion Crow at the first dawn of spring ; but the
Chough waits until May before it begins the great duty of the
year. It may be seen in pairs throughout the year, so that
there can be little doubt that it is united to its partner for
life. The nesting-holes are generally selected in the most
inaccessible parts of the cliffs, and are often so deep that it is
quite impossible to reach the eggs. Sometimes they are in
parts of the cliff which overhang, and fall sheer down in a

THE CHOUGH 113

wall-like descent to the ever-restless waves below. In many
cases the nests are placed quite close together, one opening
serving for several pairs of birds. The nests are, as is usual
with hole-builders, rather slovenly put together, made of
sticks of various sizes, roots, and dry grass, and generally
lined with masses of wool, and occasionally with hair. The
eggs are from four to six in number, ranging in ground colour
from white, with a slight tinge of blue or green, to creamy
white, spotted and blotched with brown of various shades
and with fainter markings of violet-gray. They vary consider-
ably, both in size and shape and in character and intensity
of markings. On some eggs the spots are few and large, on
others much smaller and evenly distributed over the entire
surface ; whilst occasionally the colouring matter is massed on
the large end of the ^gg. The Chough lays its eggs late in
May, and from what I have observed of the habits of this
species, I am led to believe that but one brood is reared in
the year. Both parents appear to assist in incubating the
eggs and tending to the young, which are often fed on the
pastures by the old birds as soon as they are sufficiently
matured to leave the nest.

THE EAVEN

{Corvus corax)

It is only in the wildest districts that the bold wary
Eaven makes his residence now. Time was, and not so many
years ago, when this handsome bird frequented most wooded
districts ; but the trees which once used to hold his nest for
generations are now deserted and only have historical interest
for the naturalist. At the present day, when almost every
large wild bird has been driven from the land by game
preserving and high farming, the Eaven's chief fastnesses are
on the rock-bound coasts, where his sagacity and constant
wariness enable him to struggle successfully against the
incessant war of extermination which is waged against him.
But even here the wantonness of the shore-shooter and the
greed of the egg-collector are slowly and surely working the
extinction of the Eaven, and as an English bird he will soon
be numbered no more.

We had best follow the Eaven to the wild coasts and bare
mountain sides of Scotland if we wish to study his habits and
economy now. There he still maintains his ground, and his
loud croak lends life to many a desolate mountain glen. You
may meet with him on these heathery hillsides of the north,
or on the bare mountain tops, where he lives in company with
the blue hare and the Ptarmigan. Or lower down the valleys
you will often find him on the sheep pastures and in the
birch coppices by the burnside. But his great stronghold is

THE RAVEN 115

the ocean cliffs or the inland precipices, where he builds his
bulky nest on the ledges and can keep a good look-out for
enemies or food. He loves to frequent the large Highland
sheep farms, where he beats about and prys into every hole
and corner in search of a meal. Should a lamb fall sick, or a
sheep in browsing too near the edge of the cliff lose its
footing and be dashed to pieces on the rocks below, the
Eaven is perhaps the first bird to discover the prize — the
first either on the one hand to go and torture the poor
creature until death mercifully relieves its sufferings, or on the
other to speed in gluttonous haste and tear out the favourite
morsels from the still warm and mangled carcass. He is
everywhere. Nothing escapes his prying vision. Carrion
abounds on the hillsides and on the shore ; and he spends
most of his time in finding it. But he is the essence of
wariness, and long before he will venture near a dead animal
he flies over and over it, backwards and forwards, as if fearful
of an ambuscade. He beats slowly along shore a few yards
above the waves, searching every creek and bay for food ;
whilst in the lambinsf season he lives on the hills, and the
shepherds have to be ever on the alert to protect their helpless
charges from this sable thief. He is one of the first birds astir
in the morning, and one of the last to retire to roost at night.
The Eaven can scarcely be called a gregarious bird,
although it may be seen in little parties at all times of the
year. It only keeps company with its kindred when feeding
— many birds being drawn to one central point by a decaying
carcass; but the gathering usually breaks up as soon as
hunger is appeased. The flight of the Eaven is powerful, and
performed with regular beats of the wings. The bird looks very
much like a giant Eook when in the air, and often indulges
in various aerial movements, two birds sometimes toying with
or buffeting each other as they fly along. The Eaven is a
resident in this country ; consequently he has to vary his diet

ii6 OUR RARER BIRDS

with the season, and in winter he is often hard pressed for
food. He lives on almost everything eatable. Weakly lambs
and fawns are attacked and killed, small birds and animals
are taken, and the eggs of game and poultry are carried off.
Carrion of every description forms a welcome repast to the
Eaven ; he also eats grain and fruit ; and I have sometimes
seen him on the pastures and fallow land searching with
Hooded Crows for worms and grubs. A stranded fish on the
seashore is a prize for the possession of which he often dis-
putes with the large Gulls or even the White-tailed Eagles ;
and on St. Kilda I have seen him quite close to the cottages
picking up refuse of all kinds.

The Eaven is not a very noisy bird, and his usual note is
a hoarse croak, which he utters when alarmed or excited. In
the mating season he often varies this dismal croak by utter-
ing a few notes more musical in character ; whilst in captivity
he is capable of learning a variety of sounds, imitating to a
nicety the voices of tame birds and domestic animals. The
Eaven is easily tamed, and makes a lively and amusing pet,
full of droll ways and cunning antics.

The Eaven is an early breeder — one of the first birds to
see about nesting duties, often beginning them before the
snow is off the ground. IN'ow that he is almost banished from
the woodland districts, he generally makes his nest on some
inaccessible precipice, either amongst the glens and mountains
of the inland wilds or on the coast above the sea. I have
seen his nest in both localities, but he breeds most frequently
on a sea cliff. Eavens pair for life. Tor years and years the
same nest is occupied, being added to and strengthened or
repaired each season, so that in time it often becomes a very
large and bulky structure, many of the sticks with which it
is built being white with age. One very large nest wliich I
examined was built on a cliff about fifty yards high, which
sloped considerably from the base over a stretch of rocky

THE RAVEN 117

ground to the sea. A small grassy platform was near the
nest, which was built under an overhanging ledge of rock,
quite invisible from above, and partly so from below. The
site commanded a good look-out ; and vainly the keeper tried
to shoot the birds. They were always too quick for him ; but
he took a mean advantage of them at last, and finally
succeeded in poisoning the pair. Singularly enough he
poisoned three Eavens at this nest, and the surviving bird
always found another mate directly, until one fatal morning
he found two sable victims on the beach below, and the spot
was deserted at last. This nest was a huge structure, made
of sticks of all lengths and thicknesses, branches of heather,
many of them bleached with age, and evidently the accumula-
tion of years. Masses of sheep's wool hung in festoons from
some of the larger sticks, and the lining was made of finer
twigs, roots, tufts of grass, and a little wool. The whole was
firmly and compactly put together, not in any way wedged
into the crevice of the rock, but built on the flat ledge which
was devoid of all herbage whatever. The ledge and the face
of the cliff all round the nest were white with the droppings
of the old birds. Another nest I visited with the aid of a
rope was built in a little cavity high up an inland precipice,
covered with ivy. It was made of similar materials, but was
not quite so bulky, and the lining contained more moss and
sheep's wool. When in a tree the nest resembles that of a
Eook or a Carrion Crow, but is of course much larger. The
eggs of the Eaven are from four to six in number, and they
precisely resemble in their colour those of the Eook, being
bluish or brownish green, more or less thickly marked with
olive-brown and pale gray. A rare variety is reddish-white
in ground colour, spotted with reddish-brown and violet-gray.
Small eggs of the Eaven are often met with ; in fact, they are
very small in proportion to the bird and compared with eggs
of other species of the Crow tribe.

ii8 OUR RARER BIRDS

When the eggs are being hatched, and in fact throughout
the whole nesting period, the Eaven relinquishes very little
of its accustomed wariness. But it is by no means cowardly,
and often beats off marauding Eagles and Hooded Crows that
may chance to fly too near its home. Both birds assist in
incubating the eggs, but the female performs the greater part
of the task. The male often brings food to the nest, and
when the young are hatched, both parents tend them with
unceasing care. It is now that the Piaven becomes a perfect
pest in some districts, and levies an endless tribute on the
poultry-yard, the game covert, and the sheep farm. Nothing
which they can master is safe from their attacks. When the
young can forage for themselves, which is not for some time
after they leave the nest, they quit the neighbourhood of
their birthplace for ever, and the old birds take to their
roving life again, for but one brood is reared in the season.

THE HOODED CEOW

{Corvus comix)

In spite of the dark tales of plunder and his questionable
mode of getting a livelihood, the Hooded Crow is a favourite
bird of mine, and one whose regular habits never fail to
interest me. We in England only know the Hooded Crow as
a winter guest, but in many parts of Scotland he is a resident,
taking the place of his first cousin, the Carrion Crow, with
whom he sometimes intermarries. He frequents the wildest
districts, the extensive sheep farms on the hills, the rock-
bound coasts, and even the most isolated islands. You may
meet with him anywhere in the northern wilderness, provided
there is food to be found. Where it is not much persecuted
the Hooded Crow becomes remarkably tame ; and at St. Kilda
I used to watch these impudent birds sitting on the roofs of
the houses, ready to pounce down on anything eatable that
might by chance be thrown out. They were remarkably
tame, so long as I did not carry a gun, allowing me to
approach them within a few feet, lazily hopping out of my
path. They are very quarrelsome birds, and are incessantly
fighting with the Gulls and amongst themselves over the
scraps of food they come across. The natives detest the
Hooded Crow ; in fact throughout the Highlands no bird is
more hated than the Hoodie. There are no firearms in St.
Kilda, and the artful Hooded Crows seem well aware of the
fact, as they fly down upon the barley and potato patches

I20 OUR RARER BIRDS

and scratch out the seed, even ^vhilst the poor peasant is at
work a few yards away. Then they are great egg-stealers,
ever beating along the face of the ocean cliffs where the sea-
birds breed, to carry off the eggs or even the helpless young.
In some of these marauding expeditions the Hooded Crow
comes off second best, and has to beat a hurried retreat from
the enraged Gulls whose nests he has been plundering.

In its habits the Hooded Crow is more gregarious than
the Carrion Crow, and may be seen in flocks and parties
throughout the year. It feeds on all kinds of substances, and
pokes and pries about in all kinds of places to find them. On
the shore it may often be seen feeding on shellfish, or on any
carrion that may be cast up by the waves ; inland it frequents
the pastures and the newly-sown fields, where it lives on
similar food to the Eook ; whilst in all parts of its varied
haunts it is ever ready to murder any bird or animal smaller
or less powerful than itself. Gamekeepers are ever on the
watch to shoot, poison, or trap the Hoodie, for he wages an
endless war on the preserves ; and farmers equally detest
him because of his misdeeds amongst the poultry, the growing
crops, and the lambs. There can be little doubt, however,
that in spring and autumn the Hooded Crow rids the pastures
and fields of countless noxious insects and grubs.

The note of the Hooded Crow is a hoarse era, sometimes
modulated and drawn out into carruck ; and in the pairing
season he not unfrequently utters more musical sounds as he
opens and closes his wings, spreads out his tail, and performs
various evolutions in the air to attract or charm his mate.
Hooded Crows do not differ in their flight from Carrion
Crows and Eooks, — they pass through the air on the same
regular and steady beat of wing, but they are capable of
turning and twisting with great speed when they are pursuing
a small bird, or buffeting each other as they often do in mid-air.
Hooded Crows pair for life, but they are rather late

THE HOODED CROW

breeders, generally contriving to bring up their young when
the egg season is in full swing. Every year the same nest is
tenanted, or a new one made on the old site, if it has been
blown down or otherwise destroyed. The nest is built in
trees as well as on rocks, the latter situation being generally
chosen. I have seen its bulky nest in a stunted thorn tree
on the bleak hillside, but when a tree is selected it is generally
the tallest and most inaccessible in the neighbourhood. When
on the rocks, a crevice or a shelf is selected, and here the nest
is often very bulky, the accumulation of years and years.
The outside is made of sticks and branches of heather ; finer
twigs and pieces of turf are used for the inside, which is
finally lined with a thick warm bed of moss, wool, and
feathers. It is very similar in appearance to the nest of the
Eook, but is rather deeper, and the lining is perhaps more
copious. The eggs of the Hooded Crow are four or five in
number, precisely similar in size and colour to those of the
Eook and Carrion Crow, being greenish-blue or pale green in
ground colour, spotted and blotched with greenish-brown of
various shades and pale gray. Only one brood is reared in the
year, but if the first eggs are taken others will generally be laid.
Both birds assist in incubation, the sitting-bird often
being fed on the nest by its mate ; and as soon as the young
are hatched the depredations of the parents increase. Made
bold by their hungry clamouring young, they are a perfect
pest to the poultry-keeper, and carry off everything eatable
they can find. The young are even fed and tended for some
little time after they quit the nest. In many places where
the geographical ranges of the two species impinge, the
Hooded Crow regularly interbreeds with the Carrion Crow,
and every intermediate form between the two birds can be
obtained. Most of this interbreeding takes place in Western
Siberia, but in Scotland these two Crows occasionally mate
together and produce more or less fertile offspring.

122 OUR RARER BIRDS

In England the Hooded Crow is well known in many
districts as a regular winter migrant, arriving^ in October and
leaving in March. Most of these birds are from Scandinavia ;
they cross the North Sea by way of Heligoland, and arrive
on our low-lying eastern coasts about the time the Woodcock
puts in an appearance. In England the Hooded Crow is best
known as a coast-bird, although a few stray to inland districts,
generally following the course of large rivers. On the noble
expanses of salt-marsh that gird the Wash on the coast of
Lincolnshire the Hooded Crow is particularly numerous, and
its habits may be studied there with ease. Its migration to
this country is an intensely interesting sight to the lover of
birds. For weeks in the autumn hundreds of thousands of
Hooded Crows may be seen flying slowly from across the
sea in one loncj strago-ling stream, now in twos and threes, or
in little parties, and occasionally in great rushes. This bird
migrates exclusively by day, and of the vast numbers that
pour in from the north and east many remain on these extensive
salt-marshes for the winter, and many more follow the coast
still farther south. During its winter sojourn here it very
closely resembles the Eook in its habits. It frequents the
broad Lincolnshire fields close by the sea, where dykes take
the place of hedgerows, and where the autumn-sown grain is
eagerly fed upon. They are very gregarious and sociable
now, and settle in large flocks upon the fields and in the
pastures, feeding w^ith Eooks and Starlings. Occasionally
they are seen on turnip fields and stubbles, in company with
Wood Pigeons and Stock Doves. But their great feeding-
ground is on the interminable wastes of salt-marsh and mud,
where they often congregate in thousands on the spots where
food chances to be plentiful. Upon these marshes it searches
principally for sand worms, small crabs, and cockles. The
latter shellfish it digs for in the sand, and then carries up in
the air for a considerable height to drop down and break

THE HOODED CROW 123

open. I have seen it when so engaged follow the falling
cockle so quickly as to be on the ground almost as soon as
its quarry. With the marsh-men the Hooded Crow bears a
bad name, from his habit of devouring the birds caught in
the flight-nets. On these extensive marshes miles of netting
are set to catch the hordes of wadincp and swimming birds
that fly over them. These nets are visited every morning
by their owners, but too often the crafty Hoodie has been there
before them — even before the tide has ebbed, and carried off
most of the birds, and so mangled the remainder as to render
them totally unfit for the markets. Many a wounded bird
that has managed to escape from these snares or has eluded
the gunner, falls a victim to the cunning Crows that search
every nook and corner of these tide-washed wastes for food.
In spring and autumn the Hooded Crows often congregate
into enormous flocks, probably for the purpose of pairing, and
not as " Crows' courts," assembled to administer justice and
punishment upon some offending member of the community,
as even some nineteenth-century ornithologists assert to be
the case.

In winter, when these mudflats and marshes are sometimes
strewn with big blocks of drifted ice, and the surrounding
fields are deep in snow, the Hooded Crows come close to the
houses and farmyards to pick up any refuse they can find,
often perching on the corn-stacks and pulling out the straws,
or makinof a meal on the refuse of slauf^hter-houses used for
manuring the land. As soon as spring returns and the Scan-
dinavian forests are free from frost, the Hoodies desert the
Lincolnshire mudflats and marshes and retire northwards to
rear their young. By no strange chance is a bird of this species
seen here during the summer, although there are plenty of
suitable nesting-places to be found. So regular are the move-
ments of this bird, that the fisher folk will teU you the Hooded
Crow and the Swallow are never seen in the air together.

THE GEEEN WOODPECKEE

(Gecinus viridis)

The Woodpeckers must be classed amongst our rarest
birds — nowhere can they be said to be abundant, and there
are plenty of wooded districts in England where a Woodpecker
is never seen. This scarcity, viewed in relation to their
fecundity, is somewhat puzzling to the naturalist. Although
they multiply so quickly (as many as six young birds being
reared in a season), their struggle for existence must be a
very severe one, and only a small percentage survive the
contest. Want of food is most probably the great secret of
their rarity. They are not migratory birds, and as they live
almost exclusively on insects their sustenance is a very pre-
carious one. As a proof that this mortality arises from such
a cause, we know that in the Tropics Woodpeckers rank
amongst the commonest of birds, simply because the nature
of their haunts is favourable to their wants and conditions
of existence — insect life, the Woodpecker's principal food,
being remarkably abundant in the equatorial forests.

The haunts of the Green Woodpecker are in the southern
woods and forests, its place being taken in the north by the
Great Spotted Woodpecker. The Green Woodpecker is the
largest of the British species, and one w^hose habits are
particularly easy of observation in those districts where the
bird is common. It is, of course, a bird of the trees, and
rarely strays far from the woods. It may sometimes be seen

THE GREEN WOODPECKER 125

iu the quiet country parks which are thickly studded with
old timber, flying in peculiar waving course from tree to tree,
uttering its loud notes as it goes. Whether observed in the
open or deep down in the silent woods, its actions are much
the same. It usually begins its devious wanderings over a
tree near the roots, gradually working upwards, exploring
many of the larger limbs as well as the knotted, gnarled old
trunk as it proceeds, and then flying onwards to the next
tree, where precisely the same course is repeated. Where
the trees are very close together it does not descend to the
ground every time, but flies from one trunk to another. The
Green Woodpecker spends by far the greatest part of its time
in one constant search for food. Every little chink and
crack and knothole is inspected in turn — every bit of faulty
bark or decaying wood is carefully sounded. By some strange
faculty of perception the bird seems to know where insects
or larvae are lurking under the bark or in the rotten wood,
and he labours diligently with his chisel-shaped beak, using
it almost like a pick-axe, until the prize is reached. When
searching the rugged old trunks of the oaks and elms and
beeches, his actions are very interesting. He runs from side
to side, pauses, creeps forward again, returns, then clings to
the under surface of a broad limb, all the time supporting
himself with his stiff, pointed tail, which serves the purpose
of a third leg. Every now and then you lose sight of him as
he runs to the opposite side of the tree ; then you see him
peeping at you, as it were, with only his red head visible,
and all the time his lusty taps wake the silence of the forest.
As he flies onward you cannot help admiring his rich yellow
lower back, which shows out very conspicuously when the
wings are opened. He searches over a tree in a very short
time, but frequently stays to break away the wood and bark
which conceal his insect food.

Of all birds the Woodpeckers are perhaps the least

126 OUR RARER BIRDS

inclined to be gregarious or sociable. Earely indeed do we
see more than a pair of birds together, and in most cases only
one. Its singular cry once heard can never be forgotten ; and
the countryman will tell you that it is most frequently
uttered before rain. We hear it most often in the bird's
breeding season during spring and early summer. It may
best be described as a clear hi-lii-lii rapidly repeated, and
resembling a loud laugh. When signalling to its mate it
taps the trunks or branches loudly and rapidly, producing
quite a jarring noise. I have sometimes seen the Green
Woodpecker alight on an old gatepost by the woodside and
search for insects ; and it may be repeatedly surprised on the
ground in the quiet corners of the woods and plantations, or
even in the open park. It has visited the ground to dig up
the ants' nests and to regale itself on the moving masses of ants
and larvse. On the ground it is awkward and clumsy enough,
its short legs preventing it from moving about as gracefully
as most birds do. Woodpeckers are shy and wary creatures,
yet with a little more caution than usual we can generally
approach them sufficiently near to watch their interesting
movements on the trees. I love to conceal myself amongst
the tall bracken in the park or more open parts of the forest,
where the deer graze peacefully under the noble trees, and
wait and watch for the Green Woodpecker. His laugh may-
hap is sounding in the distance ; he may not come my way
for a long time, but I can find plenty to interest me among
these grand old trees. Creepers, Starlings, Tree Pipits, Wood
Pigeons, Stock Doves make them their headquarters and
imbue them with life; whilst the myriads of bees in the
fragrant lime trees yonder soothe me with their constant
dreamy hum. I have known the Green Woodpecker search
the trees all around me, and have been able to watch his
every movement when I have been concealed in this manner.
By the middle of April the Green Woodpeckers are busy

THE GREEN WOODPECKER 127

at their nesting-place. They pair for life, and the old nest
is used year after year in a great many cases, always pro-
vided that it is not full of water or already occupied by a
Starling or a Titmouse. The Green Woodpecker breeds in
a hole in the trees, generally selecting some stump which is
rotten and easily bored. I have never known him tunnel
into 'sound timber. He has no cause ; besides, his bill, strong
as it is, would not be able to excavate a chamber large enough
for his needs in the short time he devotes to the operation.
If the outside of the timber is sound, the decayed part is soon
reached, and the birds display wonderful power of discerning
which trees are sound and which are decayed. The tree may
seem sound enough to the eye, but as soon as the bark and a thin
crust of growing wood are pierced, the centre of the trunk or
branch is soft as touchwood and easily scooped out. For a
little distance the hole is bored horizontally ; then, as soon as
the birds get sufficient room to turn, a perpendicular shaft is
sunk for a foot or more, the bottom of wliich is enlarged into
a little hollow in which the female lays her eggs. Both birds
assist in this work of excavation, and most of the refuse dug
out is carried away and dropped at some distance from the
tree. ISTest there is none ; the six or seven glossy white eggs
rest on the wood-dust and chips at the bottom of the hole.
The first Q,gg is generally laid as soon as the hole is completed,
and the full number is deposited by the first week in May.
Their large size effectually prevents any confusion with the
eggs of the other British Woodpeckers. I have known several
instances where the sitting-bird has been drowned in the
nest-hole on her eggs and young during exceptionally wet
weather — a touching instance of maternal love, for there can
scarcely be a doubt that the bird could readily have escaped
had it so desired.

The food of the Green Woodpecker is composed of the
various kinds of insects that infest the timber, together with

OUR RARER BIRDS

ants ; and it is said, although I have never observed such to
be the case, occasionally to eat acorns and nuts. The young
are fed on insects and larvae, and we may watch the old birds
tend them for some time after they leave the nest. Only one
brood is reared in the year ; but if the first lot of eggs be
taken, the birds will often lay a second clutch, in some cases
making an entirely fresh hole for their reception.

In some parts of England, especially in the southern
counties, the Lesser Spotted AVoodpecker {Picus minor) is
still by no means an uncommon resident species, although
locally distributed. Its small size — it is the smallest of the
British Woodpeckers — readily distinguishes this species from
its congeners. It loves the woodland districts and the fields
where the hedgerows are thickly studded with tall trees. In
its habits it closely resembles its allies, but perhaps shows
greater preference for the tops of trees and skulking among
the slender branches, where its actions are very Tit-like. Its
food is insects. Paired probably for life, the same nesting-
hole is often frequented year after year. This hole, about
twelve inches deep, is sometimes selected ready-made, but
more often is excavated by the birds themselves. The eggs
are laid early in INIay, are from five to eight in number, pure
and glossy white, and closely resemble those of the Wryneck.

THE WEYNECK

{lynx torquilla)

The Wryneck, although it can scarcely be regarded as a
rare bird, is one that is somewhat locally distributed. It
derives its name from its peculiar habit of twisting its head
from side to side, and is closely allied to the Woodpeckers,
although it differs from those birds in many important
particulars of habit and structure.

It is a migratory bird, and arrives here early in the vernal
year, a little before the Cuckoo makes his appearance, so that
he is known to the country people as the " Cuckoo's Messen-
ger," or " Cuckoo's Mate." The Wryneck is not so strictly
confined to the woodlands as the Woodpeckers, because its
food is not sought so much upon the timber. It frequents
the cultivated districts, well wooded but open localities,
orchards, copses, and plantations ; and not unfrequently on
the border of the moors its shrill whistle may be heard. It
is a shy and wary little creature, and soon takes shelter
amongst the foliage when it finds that it is being observed.
The love-note of the male Wryneck is only heard in the
breeding season, and ceases soon after the female begins to sit.
It is a loud, clear, shrill, and oft-repeated cry, resembling the
word heel, and cannot well be confused with the note of any
other bird. It is a remarkably piercing cry, and may be
heard for a considerable distance, especially across open
country. I am not aware that the Wryneck utters this note

9

OUR RARER BIRDS

when on the wing, but always when at rest, either sitting on
the ground, or on a dead stump, or when clinging to the tree
trunks. When alarmed it utters a sharp and oft-repeated
metallic clicking-note, and frequently taps very rapidly and
loudly on the branches. When you examine the Wryneck
you will find that it differs considerably from the Woodpeckers
in its appearance. In the first place, its plumage is soft and
beautifully mottled like that of the Goatsucker ; then its
beak is not formed for digging into decayed wood and bark,
and its tail is as soft and pliable as that of a Eobin, instead of
being stiff and pointed as is the case with the Woodpeckers.
Still the Wryneck is beautifully adapted to its ways of life,
as we shall fully learn after studying its habits and economy.
The Wryneck obtains its food almost exclusively with its tongue,
and its tail is never used as a support, for the bird rarely
climbs about the trunks or branches. Nevertheless its outer
toe is reversible, like that of most Picarian birds, and its feet
are formed for climbing ; but this is doubtless a long-inherited
character from the common ancestors of the Wrynecks and
the Woodpeckers. If you watch the Wryneck closely when
in the branches, you will find that it sits like any other
ordinary perching bird ; and should you observe it on the
rugged trunk of a tree, you will invariably find that it sits
sideways on the bark and never attempts to climb like a
Woodpecker, but pursues a sidelong course when exploring
the nooks and crannies for insects. Its plumage is eminently
protective in colour, and harmonises closely with the brown
bark and silver lichens. The Wryneck may sometimes be
seen frequenting the slender branches, picking insects from
the leaves, and occasionally fluttering into the air to catch
them as they pass by. When flying from tree to tree, or
from one orchard to another, its course is undulating, some-
thing like a Woodpecker's.

The food of the Wryneck is composed of various kinds of

THE WRYNECK 131

insects and their larvae, especially small caterpillars. But the
bird's principal fare, I believe, is ants and their eggs, for ob-
taining which it is admirably adapted. Were you to dissect
a Wryneck you would find that the two posterior branches of
the bones of the tongue are considerably elongated, and the
muscles attached to them highly developed, by wdiich means
the bird is able to extend its tongue, the tip of which is
hard and horny, to a considerable distance beyond the point
of the beak. You will also find, in pursuing your investiga-
tions further, two long glands beneath the tongue, which open
into the mouth and secrete a viscid fluid upon the tongue.
After making yourself so far familiar with the little AVry-
neck's anatomy, repair to some ant-hill in its haunts, and
observe closely its method of obtaining its meal. Mark with
what amazing rapidity the tongue is shot forth, and note what
part the sticky fluid plays with which it is anointed, by
causing the ants to adhere to it. So quick are the movements
of the tongue that the eye cannot follow them, and the poor
ants and their eggs seem drawn towards it by some magnetic
influence. The hard horny tip to the tongue is of service,
and enables the bird to explore with that organ the soft earth
which conceals its prey. When you still further dissect a
bird of this species you wdll find a small quantity of grit and
dirt in its stomach, w^hich circumstance has puzzled not a few
naturalists. Its presence here is due to accident alone, and
is conveyed into the bird's mouth through sticking to its
tongue with the ants. The Wryneck does not, however,
obtain all its food from the ant-hills, for it searches the lichen-
covered branches and moss-grown decaying stumps, picking
out the various insects that lurk in these situations. The
Wryneck not only visits the ants' nests, but it watches out
for that little insect as it journeys to and fro. I once came
across a narrow stream of ants which extended from some
barley fields far out into the sand of the Sahara Desert, where

132 OUR RARER BIRDS

they had made then- nests. They were conveying the grain
away to their nest ; but the Wrynecks, w^hich were common
enough in the beautiful oasis adjoining, had found them out
and were eating them in thousands. I may also mention
that here, in Africa, in its winter quarters, it is very fond of
frequenting the rough stems of the date palms, and often
perches on them and quietly waits for insects to fly past,
when it flutters out and secures them. It is a very silent
bird in winter. I have never heard it utter its wxll- known
summer cry, but its usual clicking call-note sounded repeat-
edly from the date palms and pomegranate trees. It is just
as wary here as in England, and seldom allows a near
approach.

It is not improbable that the Wryneck pairs for life, and
that the young birds of the previous season mate some time
before their arrival in this country. I saw them in pairs in
Northern Africa, previous to their departure for their summer
haunts, and it is certain they arrive here in England already
mated. The Wryneck's breeding season is in May, and its
nesting -site is somewhat varied in character. It takes
possession of a hole in the forest trees, or in the trees of the
orchard, or not unfrequently in a hole in a decayed stump in
the woods, or even in the hedges by the wayside. Here, for
instance, is a tall holly stem, blighted and fast crumbling
away before the wintery storms. It is surrounded with
perennial branches, the clump of hollies having closed up
round it as if to hide and shelter it in its old age. In a hole
in this stump a ]3air of Wrynecks have made their nest for
several seasons. The entrance is well concealed by the
surrounding foliage, which affords the shy birds that ample
cover which they love, especially during the season of repro-
duction. Let us examine it closely. By breaking aw^ay the
outside wood, which is little stronger than paper, we are able
to reach the cavity which contains the nest. It is about

THE WRYNECK 133

twelve inches from the entrance ; and we find that the AVry-
neck is no nest-builder, and that her eggs are laid on the
powdered wood and dust at the bottom of the hole. We find
the female "Wryneck upon her eggs, remaining brooding over
her treasure until removed by the hand, as is the case wdth
most species nesting in holes. "VVe heard her utter warning
hisses as w^e broke the wood away, and wdien taken in the
hand she repeats this startling sound, which closely resembles
that made by a snake. From this peculiar note the Wry-
neck is known in many localities by the name of " Snake
Bird." She also keeps turning her head from side to side
with sino'ular contortive movements, oivino: herself a most
strange appearance, well calculated to alarm the inexperienced
observer. I have also known her to feign death when taken
in the hand ; but if you relax your hold she generally takes
advantage of the proffered freedom and flies away. The
Wryneck never excavates a hole for itself in which to rear
its young, but always finds one ready-made, just like the
Titmice and Starlings do.

The eggs of the Wryneck are from five to eight in number,
— in rare instances you may find even nine, pure and spotless
white, and polished like those of the Woodpecker's, which
they resemble in every respect save that of size. You may
remove the eggs of the Wryneck, just as you may take those
of the Starling, and the old birds still frequent the place, and
others will be deposited in the same hole. Egg after ^gg may
be removed and still the female lays more, continuing to do
so in some cases right through the summer, and returning to
the old unfortunate quarters to repeat her efforts the next
spring. The Wryneck's fecundity is indeed amazing, and she
has been known to produce as many as forty-three eggs in a
single season. Pity that the poor birds w*ere harassed so
persistently ! Only one brood is reared in the year, and the
old birds and their young tarry on our shores but a short time

134 OUR RARER BIRDS

after the latter reach maturity, migrating to their winter
quarters in Africa during the month of September. In their
winter home they become much more sociable, and sometimes
unite into little flocks which roam about in quest of food.

One more word on the Wryneck's fecundity. Compara-
tively speaking this bird is not a common one; hence we
must conclude that its rate of mortality is high. Subsisting
on a somewhat precarious diet — for its chief food the ants
seldom occur in great quantities two seasons together — its
numbers must be considerably reduced during unfavourable
seasons whilst on our shores. Then again the dangers which
surround it in its winter home, and the perils of its long
journey to and fro in spring and autumn, must tliin its ranks.
As we have already seen, this bird lays a large number of
eggs, and is able to replace them if they are destroyed, so
that by this means it contrives to keep a place among existing
species. Its struggle for life is undoubtedly a severe one, and
its great fecundity most probably saves it from complete
extinction.

THE OTGHTJAE

{Caprimulgus eurojmus)

The Niglitjar, better known in many places as the Goat-
sucker or Fern Owl, is one of the most interesting birds that
flies in the evening's dusk or under the murky sky of night.
It is a summer visitor to this country, arriving here about
the middle of May, and returning south again near the period
of the autumnal equinox. As the Eed Grouse loves the
heather, so does the Mghtjar love the fern and bracken, and
its favourite haunts are on extensive heaths where bramble
and brake mingle with the heather. It also delights to
frequent the rough broken ground on the borders of the
forest, and the open spaces in the woods, where undergrowth
is replaced by briars and bracken, and it is not unfrequently

136 OUR RARER BIRDS-

flushed from tlie edges of the pine woods near the moors.
The Nightjar is a thorough bird of night, and is never seen
abroad in the bright daylight unless it has been disturbed
from its sleeping -place. When flushed in the daytime it
rises in a bewildered sort of manner, tumbling aimlessly
about in the air, and soon seeks a refuge amongst the tall
bracken or in the dense branches of a tree. It is frequently
flushed from the country roads, where it lies close until nearly
trod upon, so much does it resemble a piece of cow dung or
a flat stone. It often sleeps on some broad branch amongst
the thickest foliage, always sitting along the bough, never
across it as most other birds do. This peculiarity in perching
is for the purpose of concealment, and when the bird is
crouching close to the bark it looks like a lump of lichen or
gray moss. A large and conspicuous moth found amongst
birch trees always alights on the bark in a certain attitude for
a precisely similar purpose. The Nightjar is one of the first
nocturnal birds to fly abroad at dusk, and its peculiar note
may be heard here and there amongst the trees and fern
before the sun is completely hidden by the hills.

Few things are more pleasant in the refreshing cool of
evening, after the broiling heat and oppressiveness of a mid-
summer day, than to stroll on to the fern-clad commons and
by the woodsides to watch the aerial gambols of the Nightjar.
When the evening's gloom is falling, in the dreamy afterglow
of a summer sunset, and the shadows broaden as the last rays
of light glimmer on the tree-tops, you may hear the Nightjar's
familiar clmirr from the woods. As the darkness deepens and
the glow-worms glisten amongst the dewy grass, the birds
come out from amongst the trees and hawk about the air
above the bracken and brambles in search of food. You may
see them repeatedly hover in the air above your head, the
big white spots on the wings and tail showing out very dis-
tinctly ; and the soft flapping of their wings is scarcely

THE NIGHTJAR 137

audible as they turn and twist in chase of the night moths
and the cockchafers. Ever and anon they mount above the tree-
tops for a moment, and their dusky forms show out against
the clear western sky. If you keep very quiet they probably
alight on some old stump, or perhaps on the top bar of a gate
close at hand ; they are not shy birds, and fear no danger.
When sitting on the stumps or fences their actions are very
like a big Flycatcher. Every now and then they sally into
the air to catch a passing moth or beetle, or to flutter over
the tall stems of bracken, and then return to their perching-
place. Sometimes a bird will be joined by its mate when so
sitting, and I have seen them feed each other on such occasions.
As the night deepens the Fern Owl's activity increases, and
they dart and glide more swiftly amongst the trees and above
the open spaces, as though they had shaken off all drowsiness
and were now thoroughly awake. As they hold high carnival
in the balmy stillness of the midsummer nights, we have
good opportunity of listening to their singular notes. When
on the w^ing the cry is a clear and rapidly repeated co-ic, co-ic ;
but when at rest the bird utters a churring noise, often so
loudly as to make the surrounding air sensibly vibrate. I
have never heard the Nightjar " churr " on the wing, nor have I
ever heard the chattering cry when the bird has been at rest.
Like too many other birds whose habits lead them abroad
during the hours of darkness, the Nightjar has few friends.
The poor Owls are persecuted because they hunt at night
when no man sees their usefulness, and the unfortunate
Nightjar suffers from the same circumstance. He has been
accused of sucking the teats of the cows grazing in the
pastures at night, but the poor bird only flits amongst them
to catch the beetles and moths w^hich are disturbed from the
meadow grass by the heavy tread of the feeding animals.
You may watch him hunt the meadow^s when the moon is at
the full, and observe his every action as he flutters and

138 OUR RARER BIRDS

poises over the grass, but you will never see him interfere
with the grazing cows. Gamekeepers too can never be con-
vinced that he is not a Hawk, and they shoot him down at
every opportunity. I once knew a gamekeeper .who admitted
the perfect harmlessness of this charming bird, and whose
only excuse for shooting it on every occasion was because he
thought it " a nasty ugly beast, no good to anybody." And
this man would grow quite enthusiastic over the beauties of
bulldogs, and call ferrets pretty little things !

The K"ightjar is not at all gregarious, but in districts
where it is common half a dozen may often be seen over one
expanse of bracken. It is possible that this bird mates for
life, as in spring it appears in its summer haunts in pairs,
and may be so observed during the whole time of its stay.
The Nightjar is active and graceful enough in the air, but
when on the ground is comparatively helpless. Its short
legs make it walk with difficulty, so that when it once alights,
it generally remains stationary until ready to fly again.
Much difference of opinion and more controversy have arisen
over the serrated middle claw of the Nightjar. Some
naturalists aver that this comb-like claw is used in capturing
prey ; others have affirmed that it is employed in combing
out the long stiff rictal bristles and to rid its plumage of
parasites ; whilst one or two writers have gone so far as to
assert that it is of service to the bird when sitting length-wise
on the branches. It may be used for all these purposes ; but
I consider it extremely doubtful that such is the case, and
am much more inclined to look upon this serrated claw as the
rudiments of a structure which was once of service to the
Nightjar or its ancestors. Several other species of birds, very
remotely allied to the Nightjar, as, for instance, the Heron,
also possess this peculiarity, which I am disposed to look
upon as being now in a very deteriorated stage of develop-
ment through disuse.

THE NIGHTJAR 139

The Nightjar lives ahnost entirely on insects. It catches
the various species of night-flying beetles and the large-
bodied nocturnal moths which dreamily flutter over its
favourite haunts. The ghost swift-moth is eagerly sought
after ; and I have sometimes watched this pretty bird feeding
on the meadows near the woods where this insect has been
flying in abundance in the bright moonlight, picking them
from the tall stems of herbage as it fluttered lightly over
them, or swept impetuously up and down under the drooping
branches of the trees. It is specially fond of cockchafers ;
and all the indigestible portions of its food are cast up in the
form of pellets.

The Nightjar is one of the latest birds to breed, and its
eggs are seldom found before the beginning of June. Summer
reigns supreme during the breeding season of this interesting
little bird ; and almost as soon as the young are safely reared
it begins to think of Africa and the south. The Nightjar's
nest is only a little depression in the ground which is selected
amongst the bracken and the heather in its haunts. It often
chooses a site on the common or heath where the vegetation
is scanty ; and I have seen its eggs at the foot of a tree in a
little clearing in the forest, and under a gorse bush. The
eggs of no other British bird can be confused with those of
the Nightjar, and few are so beautiful in colour. They
are two in number, and very similar in shape to those of the
Swift, but are about as large as those of the Turtle Dove,
pure white or pale creamy-yellow in ground colour, mottled,
veined, clouded, and streaked with various shades of brown
and violet-gray. They vary considerably in the character of
the markings, some being streaked and pencilled like a
Bunting's ^g^, others boldly splashed and blotched with rich
colour. The Nightjar occasionally removes her eggs to safer
quarters if she is much disturbed during the period of incu-
bation. She is a remarkably close sitter, depending for her

Uo OUR RARER BIRDS

safety on the wonderful way in which her mottled brown
plumage harmonises with the russets and browns and grays
of surrounding vegetation. The eggs too are very protective
in colour, and require sharp eyes to find them as they lie so
exposed on the bare ground. The Nightjar only rears one
brood' in the season, but if her eggs are taken, she will lay
again usually not far away from where her first two were
deposited ; but the second time she generally only lays one.
Sometimes the sitting-bird feigns lameness when flushed from
her eggs, and reels and tumbles along the ground trying to
draw all attention away from her treasures. The young, as
soon as they are fledged, also exhibit considerable cunning,
hiding themselves amongst the moss and herbage at the
approach of danger. They are fed and tended by their
parents for some time after they are able to fly, and may often
be seen sitting on the branches, or even on a wall, waiting
for the old birds to brinsj them food.

The Mghtjars disappear in autumn as suddenly and as
quietly as they appeared in early summer. Previous to their
departure they are silent, and they migrate at night to their
distant quarters in the oases of Xorthern Africa.

THE EOCK DOVE

{Columba livia)

The wide rano-ing Eock Dove is one of the most interest-
ing of British birds, for it is undoubtedly the original stock
from which all the varieties of tame Pigeons have descended.
Its white rump distinguishes it from all its congeners — a
peculiarity which most tame birds also possess. ISTeither the
Stock Dove nor the Wood Pigeon lend themselves to domest-
ication ; they have that in their nature which no art of man
can overcome — an inherent timidity, and apparent incapacity
to reproduce their species under the restraints of captivity.
Singularly enough the Eock Dove is inseparably associated
with some of the wildest scenery our islands can boast. It
may be said to be confined exclusively to the coast — to the
bold rocky headlands and sea-girt cliffs, and to rocky islands,
especially those where the precipices are full of caves and
fissures, in which the bird can rear its young and find shelter
from the elements. It may be that this rock -haunting
peculiarity is the one great secret of its readiness to become
domesticated, the buildings and dovecots of man easily taking
the place of the cliffs and the caves of its native wilds. In
some few inland districts the cliffs are frequented by Eock
Doves. These are undoubtedly tame birds, which have
become feral, and have gradually reverted to the colour of
the original stock. They mix with the tame Pigeons of the
surrounding dovecots, and often interbreed with them, so

142 OUR RARER BIRDS

that the young naturalist may rest assured that the true wild
Eock Dove is only to be found on the maritime cliffs.

As you wander along the wild shore at low water beneath
the lofty wall of cliffs, you will often startle the wary Eock
Dove from its haunt far above your head. Or when rowing
past the rocks, the sound of your clumsy oars in the row-locks
frightens the Doves from the shelves and fissures ; and as you
approach the entrance of the black-looking caves, in which
the water is ever dashing with a thunder-like roar, the
birds hurry out on rapidly-beating wings to a safer refuge in
the cliffs. Not unfrequently when you are wandering along
the breezy tops of the cliffs, knee-deep in heather, seapinks,
and other vegetation, you will see the Eock Doves fly out
from some part of the rocks below, and hurry out for some
little distance over the sea, then suddenly turn and fly to land
to feed on the rough pastures or the weedy stubbles. They
are more or less gregarious birds all the year, and may often
be seen feeding in large flocks, the essence of wariness.
They run about the ground in true Pigeon style, bobbing
their head at each step, picking up the seeds and scattered
grain. If alarmed they fly up, but never by any chance take
refuge in a tree, either flying off to a more distant part of the
fields, or returning to their haunts on the adjoining clifis.
The flight of the Eock Dove is very powerful, performed by
a series of rapid beatings of the wings ; but sometimes the
bird sweeps down from the sky with wings held perfectly
still into its gloomy cave or on to the pastures. It is capable
of flying for very long distances at a time ; and the natives of
St. Kilda, every one of them practical ornithologists, told me
that the Eock Doves that breed there flew across to the
Hebrides every day to feed, a distance of seventy miles ! The
note of this bird is very similar to that of the Eing Dove, a
soft full coo, TOO, coo, variously modulated when the bird is
excited by the tender passions of love. It is very noisy in

THE ROCK DOVE 143

the spring and early summer, but as autumn draws on it
becomes much more silent, and it is rarely if ever heard in
winter.

The Eock Dove is an early breeder, commencing operations
long before the winds of March are hushed, but the nesting
season is not at its height until April and May. Like other
birds of the Pigeon tribe, it rears several broods in the season,
and fresh eggs may be obtained as late as September. Wher-
ever it can obtain a cave for its purpose it always prefers one ;
but in districts where caves are wantino; it is content to build
its nest in the crevices and crannies of the rocks. Sometimes
the cave is accessible at low water without the aid of a boat ;
but in most cases the sea is ever dashing into its gloomy
recesses with a dull booming roar, sending the spray in
showers far up the walls. Amongst this constant turmoil of
water the Eock Doves rear their young, making their slight
nests on the ledges and amongst the fissures in the roof and
sides of the cavern. The nests are slight structures, made of
a few dead twigs, a little dry grass, and perhaps a scrap or
two of seaweed. They are very flat, and of course long before
the young have left them are caked and matted together with
the excrements of the birds. In many cases several nests are
built quite close together, and generally, if the colony be a
large one, fresh eggs, eggs in every period of development,
and young birds in all stages of growth, may be obtained at
the same time. The eggs are two in number, somewhat
elongated, and pure white in colour. Both parents take it in
turns to hatch them, and the sitting-bird is regularly fed by
its mate. The young birds do not quit the nest until well
able to fly, and are then soon deserted by their parents.

Except in the very severest weather, the Eock Dove
may generally be found in its usual haunts near the sea ; but
in winter it sometimes wanders southwards, or frequents the
weedy pastures and stubbles near the coast. It is generally

144 OUR RARER BIRDS

seen in flocks, and may sometimes be observed feeding with
Thrushes and Finches. It occasionally visits the rocky beach
and the rough ground near the sea to feed on the seeds of
weeds. The food of the Kock Dove is chiefly composed of
grain and seeds of all kinds, which it picks up from the lands
and pastures near the sea, as well as on the sloping cliffs.
This bird is a voracious eater, and takes great quantities of
grain from the newly-sown land, as well as from the corn-
fields and stubbles. It also eats the buds and shoots of
herbage.

It is worthy of remark that the Eock Dove is one of the
most constant of birds in the colour of its plumage — varieties
in a wild state being practically unknown ; but under the in-
fluences of domestication it varies in a most curious manner,
both in size and form and colour, and even in several parts
of its structure. It is one of the most wonderful instances of
the prodigality of ISTature in producing endless variations of
form and colour as soon as the checks to those variations are
removed. The Eock Dove's economy demands a certain
uniform standard of colour, of structure, and of form, which is
in harmony with" its ways of life in every respect, and up to
which it is rigorously kept by Natural Selection. But let
this check be once removed, and variation in many directions
asserts itself, and the inevitable result is what we now see in
the dovecots of civilised man — an almost endless variety of
Doves, all sprung from their common ancestor, the Eock
Dove, and all with a more or less strong tendency to revert
to the colour of the original stock if suitable conditions arise.

THE STOCK DOVE

{Columha cenas)

Few thoroughly British birds are so little known as the
Stock Dove. It is common enough in all suitable districts,
but owing to the diversity of the haunts it frequents, and its
shy and retiring disposition, much confusion has arisen be-
tween this species and its congener, the Eock Dove. The
Stock Dove frequents rocks, both inland and maritime, as well
as woodland districts, but the Eock Dove only lives on the
ocean cliffs. The Stock Dove may be readily distinguished
from the Eock Dove by its rudimentary wing-bars, and by
the absence of the white rump and lower back. Much con-
fusion also exists regarding the word " stock," as applied to
this species. Some writers have attempted to prove that the
word denotes this species as being the original " stock " from
which all the domestic races of dovecot Pigeon have de-
scended ; but there can be no doubt whatever that the bird
acquired its name through nesting in the " stocks " or stumps
of pollard trees, and frequenting the "stocks" or stacks of
corn and other grain placed in the fields ready for carting.

The Stock Dove loves the woodland districts best. It
may sparingly frequent the more open country — even quarries
on the moors and downs, rabbit warrens, and the ocean cliffs ;
but it is by far the most abundant in the woods and forests,
especially where the timber is old and decayed. It is a much
commoner bird than is generally supposed ; but most game-

10

146 OUR RARER BIRDS

keepers and countrymen know this species by the name of
" Blue Eock " or " Eockier." Although a shy and extremely
cautious bird, it is by no means so much so as the Eing Dove,
nor will it forsake its nest so soon as that species if it is
disturbed. I am often allowed quite a near approach when
the bird is seated on a favourite perch on the topmost
branches of some noble forest tree, whither it habitually
repairs after feeding on the neighbouring fields, and I am
permitted to watch its actions apparently unnoticed, provided
I exercise a little caution. In studying the economy of this
graceful bird you will find that it is much more silent than
its congener, the Eing Dove, and its note is seldom heard,
except in the pairing or breeding season. Its call too is dif-
ferent from the Eing Dove's ; not nearly so soft and soothing,
being a hoarse guttural coo repeated most rapidly and earnestly
in the vernal season. Stock Doves are fond of bathing, as is
the case with most birds of this order ; and a little before sun-
set I often pause to observe them take their evening bath
and drink previous to retiring to roost amongst the ivy or in
the thick gloomy branches of the evergreens.

The Stock Dove, like all other members of the Pigeon tribe,
is a life-paired species, and frequents certain breeding grounds
for years, provided it is left unmolested. Its breeding season
commences in April, and several broods are usually reared
in the season. Indeed, as late as October it is not uncom-
mon to find young birds scarcely able to fiy ; and I have
known their nests to contain eggs by the second week in
April. The site for the nest is a varied one, yet it is
always well concealed. An old Magpie's nest is not un-
frequently chosen — so, too, is the deserted ''drey" of the
squirrel ; and the disused Sparrow-hawk's cradle, should
it be well concealed amongst ivy, is a favourite place.
Indeed, the Stock Dove has a partiality for ivy almost as
great as the AVood Owl, and wdien it builds its own nest per-

THE STOCK DOVE i^j

haps by far the most frequently places it among the perennial
foliage of that plant. The above situations are chosen where
the timber is but little decayed. Where, however, age and
the wintery blasts have left their mark upon the trees, and
hollow trunks and decaying limbs abound, you must search
for the Stock Dove's eggs in holes similar to those which the
Jackdaw selects for domestic purposes. So far as my own ob-
servations extend, the Stock Dove is decidedly a hole builder;
for if holes in trees are wantino- it seeks the shelter of deserted

o

nests of other birds ; or failing them, the dark seclusion of an
ivy-covered tree, where, deep among the glossy foliage, it can
rear its young unseen and in peace. In treeless districts a
hole in the side of some quarry on the moors, or the crevice of
a cliff, is selected, and in warrens it shares the burrows with
the rabbits. The nest of the Stock Dove is very slight — ruder
perhaps than the Eing Dove's, and in many instances a nest
is dispensed with altogether. When in the branches it is
merely a few twigs — a slight trellis -like platform of sticks ;
and when in holes of timber, or on the tops of pollard trees,
the decaying wood or mayhap a few straws form the bird's only
bed. The eggs of the Stock Dove are never more than two in
number, and are pale creamy-white in colour — a peculiarity
which always serves to distinguish them from those of the
Eock Dove and Wood Picreon. Throughout the breeding-

o o o

season the Stock Dove is a remarkably shy and retiring bird,
and but rarely indeed betrays the whereabouts of its nest.
Should you approach the nest the old bird often remains
sitting upon the eggs or young until almost touched by the
hand, and in some cases allows itself to be captured, especially
if the eo-c^s are much incubated.

There is another point in the economy of the Stock Dove
which the careful naturalist will not fail to notice, and that is,
the bird's singular partiality for the company of its own
kindred during the nesting season. Unlike the Eing Dove,

148 OUR RARER BIRDS

which is seldom gregarious except during autumn and winter,
the Stock Dove is social at all seasons, and breeds in colonies
to a great extent. I have not unfrequently found two of their
nests in the same hollow tree, and as many as six within a few
yards of each other, as is the case with Starlings and Jackdaws.
The young Stock Doves remain in the nest until they are
able to fly, being fed on the semi-digested food swallowed by
their parents. They mature slowly, but as soon as they leave
the nest appear to be deserted by their parents for ever.

The food of the Stock Dove, as far as I can determine, is
exclusively of a vegetable nature. In seedtime the bird is a
regular visitor to the fields of oats and other grain ; and in dis-
tricts where the birds are plentiful they become very trouble-
some to the farmer. It also eats the seeds of weeds, and is very
fond of acorns, buckwheat, beech-mast, and even blackberries.
Peas and beans are also its favourite fare, and when hard pressed
by hunger it will eat the tender shoots of the autumn-sown
grain and the young leaves and sprouts of turnips. The
Stock Dove spends the greater part of the day in the open
country, on the fields, where it frequently mingles with flocks
of tame Pigeons from the adjoining farmhouses. Its flight is
quick and light, performed by rapid beats of the wings, but
sometimes the bird darts down from the sky on almost motion-
less wings into the friendly cover of the forest. When flushed
in the woods it hurries off with great rapidity through the
trees, flying in and out amongst the trunks with amazing
speed and dexterity. It perches in trees as much as the Ring
Dove, and may sometimes be seen running along the broad
horizontal limbs paying court to its mate.

In autumn the Stock Dove congregates into enormous
flocks, mingling freely with King Doves, and frequenting the
stubbles where they search for the scattered grain. The
broad corn -lands and bean- fields are the Stock Dove's
favourite autumn and winter pastures. There large flocks.

THE STOCK DOVE 149

after feeding in the fields all day, betake themselves at dusk
when gorged with food to the nearest fir plantations where
they roost. They repair to the bean- and pea-fields before the
crops are carted, and perch upon the stacks or " stocks " to
feed ; and in severe weather they not unfrequently venture
into the farmyards to pick up any stray grain they can find.
If the Stock Dove robs the farmer of his grain and other seed
crops, it makes ample amends for its depredations in consum-
ing millions of seeds of the most troublesome weeds, such as
charlock and dock, which, if not kept in check, would soon
change fertile fields into unproductive wastes.

The Turtle Dove {Turtur auritus) here claims a few
words of passing notice. It is the most locally distributed
of all our British Pigeons, and, unlike any of them, is a
migratory bird. It is found principally in the southern and
midland districts of England, appearing to shun the mountain-
ous country of the west and north. The Turtle Dove is one
of the latest of our summer migrants, not arriving in its usual
haunts until the end of April or early in May. Its home is
in the woodlands — the quiet dense game coverts, old forests,
and the rich pastoral districts where the hedges are allowed
to grow high, and where there are plenty of trees scattered
up and down the fields and in the lanes. It is shy and
retiring in its habits, far more often heard than seen, and at
the least alarm seeks shelter in the nearest trees. The Turtle
Dove is particularly noisy just after its arrival, and its rich
soft coo fills the entire woodlands with a gladsome sound.
Towards the end of May the slight nest is made either in
one of the forest trees or in a tall evergreen or dense hedge-
row. It is composed of a few sticks, and is simply a slight
platform through which the eggs may often be seen from
below. These are two in number — white, slightly suffused
with buff, in colour. Their small size readily distinguishes
them from those of the Stock Dove, which they closely

I50 OUR RARER BIRDS

resemble in tint. Both birds assist in hatching the eggs and
in tending the young ; and in many cases two broods are
reared in the season. The Turtle Dove feeds on insects,
fruit, tender shoots, seeds of all kinds, and grain. It drinks
frequently, and often flies for a considerable distance from its
usual haunts to do so and to feed. The Turtle Dove begins
to leave us early in September, and by the end of that month
most of the birds have gone. I saw much of this charming
little Dove in Northern Africa when on its way northwards
to Europe in spring. Great numbers were to be seen in all
the oases, frequenting the date palms and the citron trees,
and I noticed that they were far less shy here than in
English woods. I also saw them in the evergreen oak
forests on the slopes of the Aures, where many retire to rear
their young. It was a pretty sight to watch these beautiful
birds at eventide coming up from all parts of the oasis and
the surrounding desert to roost in the palms. Every palm
tree soon became full of Turtle Doves, and they might be
seen sitting side by side in pairs ; for I am of opinion this
species mates for life. In the cool of early morning they left
their retreats to visit the pools of water to drink. Hot and
deliciously beautiful as the South Algerian winter is, the
Turtle Dove retires to even warmer climes still farther to the
south. The exact locality of its winter home is yet unknown
to naturalists, but I am inclined to believe that it spends this
season in the remotest oases of the Central Sahara and along
the borders of the Southern Soudan. The Turtle Dove is
easily recognised by its small size and nearly black patches
on the sides of the neck.

THE CAPEECAILLIE

{Tetrao urogaUus)

This mamificent bird, the laro'est of its order in this
country, is one of the rarest and most local of those species
which are classed under the head of Game. In this country
it has seen many vicissitudes ; most of its favourite haunts
have been destroyed ; the bird itself has been exterminated,
and now once more it bids fair to re-establish itself in its old
quarters. Four hundred years ago the Capercaillie was
common enough in the pine forests of Scotland and the north
of England ; but since that date many of its native Avoods
were burned to destroy the wolves which then infested
Britain, and the poor bird became extinct. Fortunately for
British naturalists this handsome bird has been introduced
again to its old haunts, and is gradually spreading over
country which is suited to its requirements. The spruce fir
and larch forests are its favourite haunts, although it some-
times wanders to the birch and oak woods, and in autumn is
frequently flushed from the tall heather on the hillsides. It
delights to frequent the big pine woods, especially those that
are studded with small lakes and tarns and swamps, and is
occasionally found amongst the oak trees, for it is passionately
fond of acorns. The male bird is rarely seen amongst the
underwood except when moulting his plumage, but the
female is often observed on the ground. These northern pine
woods are full of wild romantic scenery, and some of the

OUR RARER BIRDS

gleDS and shady hollows are exceptionally favoured with the
presence of rare birds. The Hen Harrier and the Golden
Eagle may oft be seen ; the rare Crested Titmouse and the
handsome little Siskin and Crossbill all find a home there
congenial to their tastes. The ground under the trees is
thickly covered with fallen pine " needles," and every bare
space among the trees is covered with heath and other coarse
vegetation. The Capercaillie is a fitting ornament to these
gloomy forests. Often he may be seen perched on the top-
most twig of a pine tree, his massive form coming out in bold
relief against the clear western sky. He sits like this at the
approach of evening, as if surveying the wide expanse of
woods before retiring to his roosting-place. In summer the
Capercaillie forsakes the trees for the greater part of the day,
although he generally retires to the branches to digest his
meal and to sleep. He generally roosts in the trees, but in
winter, when the snow chances to be deep, he frequently
burrows into it and sleeps secure and warm. The Caper-
caillie is not a migratory bird, nor does it wander far from
its native woods except in the very severest weather.

The food of this fine Grouse is composed of the buds of the
alder, birch, and hazel, acorns, all kinds of ground fruits, such
as bilberries and cranberries, and in winter almost exclusively
of the " needles " or spine-like leaves of the spruce, pine, and
fir. The young are fed principally on insects, especially ants
and their eggs. As may easily be supposed, the flight of this
big bird is very powerful, and when he rises hurriedly from
your feet or goes crashing out of the branches, where he has
been intently watching your movements, although you were
ignorant of his presence, his loud whirr of wing may well
startle you.

The Capercaillie is polygamous, and few birds are more
pugnacious in the love season, although at other times he is
remarkably shy and cowardly, and often allows a Peregrine

THE CAPERCAILLIE 153

Falcon, not a tenth part of liis weight, to strike him down.
The male birds begin love-making in April. The pairing-
place is -usually beneath a pine tree, near a pool or other
opening in the forest ; less frequently near a bare rock
surrounded by fir trees, whose sweeping branches hang partly
over it. Year after year the same place is frequented for
the purpose. Just before sunrise and directly after sunset
the '' spel " or love-song commences, and lasts till the sun has
risen above the horizon, or the twilight deepens into night.
Perched on his favourite pine he puffs out his plumage,
droops his wings, spreads out his broad tail like a fan, stretches
out his neck, utters his love-notes, and works himself up to
such a pitch of amorous excitement as to be entirely oblivious
to danger. His notes are often uttered so loudly as to cause
the tree on which he sits to vibrate sensibly to the touch,
and may be heard for a long distance through the silent
forest. Many of these pairing-places are often close together,
and are frequented by all the Capercaillie in the neighbour-
hood. Fierce battles are fought for the possession of the
females, who keep in the background and watch the strange
antics of the males. The young males visit these pairing-
stations, but are not allowed to call until they have fought
their way into the ranks of the older and more powerful birds.
Upon the female Capercaillie devolves all the care of the
eggs and young. In the month of May she scrapes a little
hollow in the ground amongst the heather and the bilberry
wires, near or in the forest, in which she lays from eight to
twelve eggs, brownish-buff in ground colour, thickly spotted with
reddish-brown and a few larsjer markings of the same colour.
They resemble those of the Black Grouse, but are readily
distinguished by their much larger size. Only one brood is
reared in the year. In winter the males frequently gather
into small parties, and the females and their broods often
keep company through the same inclement season.

154 OUR RARER BIRDS

Little need be said of the sport which this fine ganie bird
yields, or of the quality of its flesh, which is sent in great
quantities to the table. Own forte is to watch the habits and
economy of birds, and consequently we leave the various
methods of capturing the Capercaillie to the sportsman and
the hunter.

^-

THE BLACK GROUSE

{Tetrao tetrix)

Although it is nowhere so common, the Black Grouse is
much more widely dispersed than its congener, the Eed
Grouse. Its home, it is true, is on the moorlands, but low down
the hillsides, where the pine woods, fir plantations, and birch
coppices furnish the bird with abundant cover. It frequents
the borders of the moors, where the groups and plantations
of pines, alders, and birches form the boundary line between
the cultivated district and the wild. It loves the sheltered
hollows just below the moors, where the ground is thickly
overgrown with heath and bracken, and where the briars and
brambles throw their long wires over the masses of rock, and
twine and twist amongst the bilberries and cranberries;

156 OUR RARER BIRDS

whilst here and there the patches of reeds and rushes and
the alder clumps mark the marshy districts. Indeed, the
Black Grouse shows a strange partiality for the swamps, and
loves the rough ground and wild ravines through which the
rush-fringed trout-streams dance and gurgle, and where the
silver birches hang over the dark pools, and the bushes and
tall rank vegetation grow in wild uncurbed luxuriance. The
Black Grouse is never found far away from water, and may
frequently be flushed from the dense reed tufts in the
swamps.

The Black Grouse is polygamous, and the female alone
undertakes the charge of the eggs and the young brood. The
males live at peace with each other for the greater part of
the year, but early in April a great change comes over them,
and civil war may be said to reign supreme until the females
have laid their eggs. Some particular spot is chosen in their
haunts, where the birds of both sexes congregate ; and a visit
to such a place is of never-failing interest to him who loves
to study the ways and doings of birds. Eepair to such a
meeting- place a little before dawn, and carefully conceal
yourself amongst the surrounding vegetation, when you will
be able to watch the actions of the birds with ease.

It is just before daybreak, A warm glimmer lights up
the eastern heavens, and the gentle morning breezes rustle
through the pine branches ; surrounding objects are becoming
more distinct every moment, and the few early notes of the
Stormcock from the neighbouring alders, and the cry of a
noisy Blackbird just hopped from its roosting-place in the
hollies down in the hollow, tell you that morning is at hand.
See ! the Curlews are astir, and the Lapwings are just waking
up on the rough fallows. But your observations and musings
are interrupted by the flapping noise of wings and the
approach of a dark heavy bird. It is a Blackcock coming
to the pairing-station to pay his morning courtship — to fight

THE BLACK GROUSE 157

for and win his brides. A handsome fellow he is, and his
rich glossy plumage shines with a healthy lustre in the dim
morning light —

The Blackcock waked and faintly crew,
The Blackcock deemed it day and crew.

It is indeed an interesting sight, and at no other time does
the plumage of this splendid bird show to such advantage
as on the pairing-ground, when the first rays of the morning
sun cause its pristine beauties to show out in all their rich
intensity. He looks round a moment as if half conscious
of your presence, and then busies himself with his own affairs.
Drawing himself up to his full height he struts proudly
about, now trailing his wings, and ever and anon erecting
and spreading his broad lyre-shaped tail, all the time in-
cessantly uttering his peculiar love song —

In the clouds red tints are glowing,
On the hill the Blackcock's crowing.

Now he springs into the air, turning halfway round as he
descends, then crouches to the ground, swells out his throat,
and in a dozen different ways strives to display his charms,
or give challenge to a rival. But your attention is soon
called away from him, for shortly another cock bird makes
his appearance. Another and another speedily arrive, and
all are soon engaged in the same strange antics; and see,
there are several females now, much less conspicuous in their
brown plumage. Now two males meet in this strange arena
and a combat takes place, the birds fighting with as much
zest as a couple of bantam cocks, and in much the same way,
the feathers falling thickly as the battle increases in fierce-
ness. The females are getting more interested every moment,
ready to bestow their favours on the victorious males, and run
to and fro with drooping wings, occasionally uttering a low

158 OUR RARER BIRDS

call-note. And so these combats proceed until all the females
are won, when the strife ceases and the birds retire to seek
their morning meal, but again assemble in the evening, and
not unfrequently in the middle of the day as well. Through-
out the laying season the Blackcock is a noisy and pugnacious
creature, and once the full complement of eggs is deposited
by the female, he quits her society, probably for ever. He
now becomes a peaceable bird ; his pugnacious disposition
has vanished, and he seeks the company of his own sex to
feed and flock with them for the remainder of the year.

Xow let us follow the female birds and devote our atten-
tion to them. You rarely indeed find the Gray Hen's eggs
till early May. The nesting-site is a varied one, but as a rule
well and artfully concealed. It may be where a pine tree
has been snapped by the wintery blasts or broken by the
snow wreath, and its branches are almost buried by the
bracken and brambles ; or it may be under a dense mass of
briars, or not unfrequently beneath a thick bush of heather
or a tuft of fern. But very little nest is made — a hole is
scratched out and lined with a few bits of herbage : fern
fronds, bits of heath, or bracken leaves. In this rudely formed
nest the Gray Hen deposits from six to ten eggs. They are
brownish-buff in ground colour, spotted and blotched with
rich brown of various shades, and are like those of the Caper-
caillie, only smaller. But one brood is reared in the year, and
the parent and her offspring usually keep together through-
out the winter. In some cases the nests contain as many as
sixteen eggs ; but these are the produce of two hens — a fact
which is proved by seeing one large brood of young birds
being tended by two females. This often takes place where
the birds are at all numerous.

Throughout all the list of our British birds I do not think
we can find a more striking instance of the utility of colour
in the plumage of birds than is to be seen in the Gray Hen's

THE BLACK GROUSE

59

sombre dress. She differs greatly from the male in colour,
being mottled brown of various shades. These brown tints
are of great service in shielding her from enemies when
sitting on her eggs, by harmonising with the surrounding
colours of the heath and fern. Well does she know in which
direction safety lies, and, as is usual with all protectively
coloured birds, and even animals and insects, for the law is
universal, she remains quiet and motionless, brooding over
her treasures until almost trodden underfoot. The eggs, too,
are of protective tints, and consequently are never covered
when the sitting-bird leaves them — a fact, by the way, con-
trary to the expressed opinion of many writers on ornithology,
who evidently have had no experience with the Gray Hen's
domestic arrangements. The Black Grouse sometimes inter-
breeds with other game birds, but the offspring, as is usual in
such cases, appear never to be fertile.

The Blackcock is an extremely wary bird, skulking low
amongst the vegetation of his haunts, only rising when ab-
solutely compelled to do so. His flight is swift — more so than
that of the Eed Grouse, but somewhat laboured, and upon
rising he usually utters his harsh alarm-note. When dis-
turbed the Black Grouse generally flies for a considerable
distance and often at a great height. I have known it fly
for half a mile or more at a time across a valley or along the
hillsides. Another peculiarity in this species is its partiality
for perching in trees. The Eed Grouse only perches in trees
very rarely, although it is extremely fond of resting on walls
and rocks ; but the Black Grouse may be seen in the trees
continually, and generally roosts in the branches of the pine
and fir, or even amongst the prickly foliage of the holly.
This love for the gloomy foliage of the evergreen is doubtless
prompted by protective motives ; for the brilliant blue-black
dress of the male is very inconspicuous in such a resting-
place.

i6o OUR RARER BIRDS

The food of the Black Grouse is almost entirely composed
of vegetable substances, varied according to the season of the
year. Thus in summer the bird feeds upon seeds and the
tender shoots of heather and leaves, and also insects of various
kinds, especially ants and their eggs, on which the young are
largely reared. The various wild fruits and berries of the
moor and mountain side are consumed in autumn, at which
season it is also seen on the stubbles near its haunts picking
up the scattered grain. In the winter months, when the bleak
mountain sides seem unable to support a bird of any kind,
the Black Grouse lives sumptuously on the willow twigs,
birch catkins, leaves and shoots of turnips, various buds,
especially those of the alder, and the never-failing leaves of
the heather.

Black Grouse moult in July and August, and at that time
skulk about a good deal amongst the herbage. The males
seldom visit the trees till they obtain their new feathers, and
the females keep well out of sight. Young of this species, as
every game preserver know^s, are extremely difficult to rear,
wet seasons being especially fatal to them ; and many nests
are washed away through being made too near the rapidly
rising mountain torrents. The sportsman will also find that
on the dull misty autumn days this species often sits in the
low trees and lets him approach wdthin gunshot ; and as the
Eed Grouse always endeavours to fly down wind, he will just
as surely find the Black Grouse try to fly up wind. If much
shot at, the birds generally mount up high in air and fly away
to some distant cover. He will also notice that the birds
rarely fly uphill, but when flushed on the mountain sides
hurry off to a lower level.

THE PTARMIGAN

(Tetrao mutus)

Along yon moorland brown with heather bells,

There swarms the honey-bee and sings the lark ;
While Grouse which summer saw burst from their shells,

Rough-footed run o'er knowes where moss-bees build their cells.

The Ptarmigan is another of our rarer birds, and one that
is extremely local in its distribution, being confined to the
wild northern uplands. Yon distant mountain tops, where
here and there the snow still lies in the sheltered hollows,
even in June, do not look likely to repay the ornithologist for
his exertions in reaching them. But these lofty hills capped
with cloud, all glowing in sunlight or frowning in shadow, are
the home of the Golden Eagle, the Peregrine Falcon, the
Merlin, the Dotterel, and the Ptarmigan. We must leave the
lowlands far behind us, cross the sloping moors, where the
Red Grouse lives amongst the heath, and climb up the hills
to their highest summits before we can expect to meet with
the Ptarmigan. The scene up here is wild and barren and
desolate in the extreme. The silence of the mountain tops
is most impressive. The flat ground is thickly strewn with
loose stones and large boulders, but in all the sheltered nooks
the bilberry and other ground fruits abound, and in many
places patches of scrubby heather find a precarious root.
Behind the big rocks, and in the hollows where no sunlight
penetrates, snow of dazzling whiteness covers the ground, pure

11

i62 OUR RARER BIRDS

and unstained as when it fell from the clouds six months
ago. These mountain solitudes are rarely visited by man ;
still the birds we have come to seek are wary enough, and
strive by arts of deepest wile to escape our notice. You see
those round grayish objects dotted here and there over
yonder bit of level ground? Stones, surely ; they never move ;
they are part of the ground itself. But no ; they are birds —
Ptarmigan in their summer plumage, shamming death, imi-
tating bits of gray lichen-covered rocks, in the hopes that
their deceptive actions will effectually prevent their detection.
We may thus often wander amongst a number of these
mountain Grouse without observing them, until we almost
stumble over a crouching bird, when one by one they rise
all round us and hurriedly fly away.

The Ptarmigan is one of the best instances I know of pro-
tective coloration. In spring and summer it dons a dress of
mottled gray and brown, which absolutely shields the bird from
its enemies, as we have already seen ; and, still more interesting,
as soon as these wild mountain tops begin to get covered
with the wintery snows, the Ptarmigan loses its summer
livery and assumes a snow-white plumage, which renders it
invisible among the eternal whiteness of its dreary haunt.
It has many enemies, ever on the alert — big Eagles and active
Falcons that hunt the mountain tops ; and were it the least
bit conspicuous it would soon become exterminated. A bird
whose greatest safety is on the ground does not fly much, and
consequently the Ptarmigan only uses its wings to escape
from an enemy when every other artifice has failed, or when
it flies across the deep valleys from one mountain top to
another.

When all is quiet the Ptarmigan may sometimes be seen
sitting on the bare rocks, but it is generally met with on the
ground, where it runs about in a very similar manner to the
Ped Grouse. Many of its habits are also like those of that

THE PTARMIGAN 163

well-known bird. Its fliglit is rapid, and performed by quick
beatings of the wings. Sometimes the wings are held arched
and stiff, and the bird skims with great rapidity along the
mountain sides, or over a ridge or heap of rocks. Its note,
however, is very different. It is not nearly so loud and
startling, being much more hoarse and guttural ; and for the
greater part of the year the bird is a singularly silent species.
I have heard Ptarmigan make a low grunting kind of sound
when a flock of these birds have been crouching low amongst
the stones. The food of this Grouse is almost entirely
vegetable in its character. In summer the bird may catch a
few insects, but at all seasons it seems to prefer buds and
tender shoots of the mountain vegetation. In autumn seeds
are eaten, and also vast quantities of the small ground fruits
which grow so abundantly in its mountain home. I have
known it wander lower down the hillsides at this season in
search of fruit; and in winter it often descends to lower
ground, provided it is covered with snow, when the mountain
tops are too deeply buried for it to reach its accustomed food.
The Ptarmigan swallows a considerable quantity of pebbles
and grit to aid it in the digestion of its food.

Ptarmigan, like Grouse, pair rather early in the season, but
do not begin nesting duties until winter is finally banished
from the mountain tops. If the season is a forward one, the
eggs are usually laid early in May; but if the winter has been
unusually long and severe, the end of that month is reached
before the nest is made. This is a simple affair — merely a
hollow in the scanty soil on the mountain top, lined with a
few bits of dead heath or bilberry wire, or a little dry grass.
The nest is rarely placed beneath the shelter of a bush, but
it is sometimes protected on one side by a big stone or a piece
of rock. The eggs are from eight to twelve in number, and
considerably different in general appearance from those of the
Eed Grouse. They are buffish-white in ground colour, spotted

i64 OUR RARER BIRDS

and blotched with rich liver-brown, and are not so profusely
marked as the eggs of that bird. They are eminently pro-
tective in colour, and are very difficult to see as they lie
amongst the little stones and uneven ground. The female,
too, in her protective dress, sits closely over them ; but she
never covers them when she runs off for a little time to feed.
Shortly after the young are hatched they run about with
their parents ; but if a Hawk or an Eagle should appear the
whole brood scatter with great speed and hide themselves
amongst the stones and plants, where they keep perfectly
motionless until the danger has passed. I should here
mention that the Ptarmigan is a monogamous species like the
Eed Grouse, and it appears to pair every season.

As soon as the young can fly, the Ptarmigan gather into
flocks which roam about the highest mountain tops in quest
of autumn fruits. A word as to the change of plumage in
the Ptarmigan. This bird for three parts of the year is in
the moult. Except in winter it appears to be incessantly
changing its feathers to adapt itself to the varying colours of
its haunts. In spring its dress is dark brown, mottled with
yellowish-brown; and in autumn it changes to pale gray,
sprinkled with black. The summer plumage is somewhat
intermediate between these two extremes. The quill feathers,
however, are only changed once, in autumn. It is very
probable that many of the feathers simply change colour
gradually from the root to the tij), and are not moulted.

THE EED-LEGGED PAETEIDGE

(Perdix riifa)

The Eed-legged Partridge is not indigenous to this country,
but was introduced here, like the Pheasant, so lono- a^o that
we have quite got to look upon it as a bird of the southern
fields. There is much in the habits of this handsome bird
that is interesting to the naturalist — habits acquired amongst
very different surroundings, and which it still retains in its
new home. Unlike the Pheasant, its immigration has not
been attended with very great success. Eortune has not been
kind to it, and it only lives in a few localities well adapted
to its needs. It must have a warm sandy soil if it is to
thrive ; it dislikes clay and heavy ground ; and wet seasons
are singularly unfavourable to its increase. The Eed-legged
Partridge belongs to a little group of Partridges, all very much
alike in their habits and the colour of their plumage, which
frequent dry and mountainous country. I have often studied
the habits of its cousin, the Barbary Partridge, in the wild
upland districts of Northern Africa — and they are all thorough
birds of the wild. It is perhaps fortunate that the Eed-
legged Partridge does not thrive very well in this country,
because in all the localities in which it has established itself
the Common Partridge has sensibly decreased in numbers,
and in some places has been completely exterminated by the
larger and much more pugnacious species. Game preservers
have not been slow to recognise this peculiar habit of the Eed-

1 66 OUR RARER BIRDS

legged Partridge, and on many estates it is persecuted quite
as relentlessly as the Crows, Hawks, and other vermin. This
is another reason why it is not more widely dispersed.

Like most other birds of showy plumage, the Eed-legged
Partridge is a skulking, shy, and wary creature, only using
its wings to escape from enemies when all other means have
failed. It always prefers to run from danger, threading its
way through the dense herbage and up the hedge bottoms
witli great speed. When driven into the air it very often
perches in a tree or on the top of a tall hedge, much to the
surprise of an observer little acquainted with its habits ; and
in some districts where the bird is rather common I have
watched them perch three or four together on low walls, or
even on the wire fencing which has been fixed up on poles to
prevent sheep from jumping the low hedges into the country
roads. Even its long residence in this country has not
entirely obliterated the Eed-legged Partridge's love for wild
uncultivated ground. In autumn it frequently wanders from
the fields, and haunts the little plantations and rough ground
near the woods, all overgrown with rush and briar and bramble
and thick coarse grass. It loves the densest cover, and should
always be sought where the vegetation grows most luxuriantly.
It is a bird evidently not used to snow, and when the fields
are covered this Partridge quits them and skulks amongst the
tangled hedges and the brushwood. In summer this bird
lives largely on insects, but during the remainder of the year,
seeds, buds, shoots of clover, and grain are its favourite fare.
It loves the stubbles that have been cut by the sickle best,
discarding those which the modern reaping machine shaves
almost as bare as the ground. True, it feeds on them, but at
the least alarm you may see the big plump birds running
stealthily and quickly to the friendly cover of the hedges.
They often perch on the corn-stooks, and repeatedly hide
themselves by running under them. The note of the Eed-

THE RED-LEGGED PARTRIDGE 167

legged Partridge, heard most frequently in spring, more
resembles the well-known whistle of the Quail, but is as loud
as that of the Common Partridge.

It is in the pairing season, early in April, that the Eed-
lef^o-ed Partridge is most pugnacious. Then combats are of
frequent occurrence between rival males, and it is now that
the birds display singular fierceness against the Common
Partridge. The nesting season of the Eed-legged Partridge
is much earlier than that of the common species, the eggs
being laid by the end of April or beginning of May. The
nest is a slight structure, made amongst the growing clover
and corn, or in the thick vegetation at the bottom of a hedge.
It is merely a hollow scraped in the ground, and carelessly
lined with a few dead leaves and bits of withered herbage.
The eggs, generally twelve in number, but often only ten, and
sometimes as many as sixteen, are pale brownish-yellow
spotted and speckled with dark brown. Singularly enough
the Eed-legged Partridge lays her eggs at irregular intervals.
Most birds lay an egg each day until the full complement is
deposited, but the present species sometimes goes for several
days without laying. The nest is occasionally made some dis-
tance from the ground in the roof of a corn- or bean-stack — the
Pheasant and the Partridge repeatedly do the same. The
female sits closely, depending for her safety on the brown
colour of her upper plumage and the wealth of vegetation
which almost covers the nest. Only one brood is hatched in
the year, and both parents assist in rearing them, for be it
known that the Eed-legged Partridge is monogamous.

In autumn the broods still keep together, and often unite
into large coveys for the winter months. They now visit the
stubbles to pick up the scattered grain, or wander from the
fields to the more open country, especially to commons which
are dry and covered with thick scrub and gorse. They always
appear to roost on the ground, but frequently enter plantations

i68 OUR RARER BIRDS

and tlie borders of woods for that purpose, especially in severe
weather. The flesh of this Partridge is not nearly so well
flavoured as that of the Common Partridge ; and the sport it
yields is very inferior. It is too restless a bird — too fond of
running ; and the coveys break up when alarmed, and often
disturb the Common Partridge, which otherwise would have
laid close to the dogs.

The Quail {Coturnw: communis), though widely distributed
over the British Islands, is nowhere common, and therefore
demands a place among our rarer species. Unlike all our
other Game Birds, the Quail is a migrant, visiting this country
in spring and retiring southwards to Africa in autumn. The
Quail comes with the very last batch of migrants, arriving
here early in May, and leaves us again in September. The
migrations of the Quail are extremely interesting. This little
bird migrates chiefly by night, although I have met with it
crossing the Mediterranean during the day. Vast numbers
collect and journey in company, especially in autumn, and
many thousands are netted every year for food. The Quail in
this country is a skulking bird, and loves to frequent the fields
of growing corn and other herbage, rarely flying far, and only
betraying its whereabouts by its shrill whistling-note. In
the choice of its food and in many of its habits it does not
differ much from the Common Partridge. It flies quickly,
runs fast and skilfully through the herbage, lies close to the
ground at the approach of danger, is fond of dusting its
plumage, never perches in trees, and is most partial to dry
and sandy soils. In many cases the male pairs with one
female alone, but in others it is polygamous, each male con-
sorting with several females. It breeds late, the female
making her scanty nest amongst the corn, clover, or other
herbage in June. This nest is merely a hollow lined with a
few bits of dry grass and dead leaves. The eggs vary greatly
in number — from eight to twenty ; but probably the largest

THE RED-LEGGED PARTRIDGE 169

clutches are the produce of several females. Two or three
nests are frequently made close together in the same field.
The eggs are remarkably handsome ones, yellowish-olive in
ground colour, boldly spotted, blotched, and freckled with dark
brown and olive-brown. The males throughout the laying
period are very pugnacious, and combats are constantly taking
place between rival birds. The young, like Partridges, run
as soon as they are hatched, and the female takes the entire
charge of the brood. Quails do not join into coveys in
autumn, but seem to live a singularly lonely life until migra-
tion time. The Quail's resemblance to the Partridge in colour
and form is very noteworthy, but the bird may instantly be
recognised by its small size.

THE HERON

{Ardea cinerea)

Incessant persecution has well-nigh exterminated every
large bird from the inland woods and fields, but one still
survives — thanks probably to his incessant wariness and the
nature of the haunts he frequents. This is the Heron ; the
big gray watcher by the water-side that we sometimes disturb
from his piscatorial musings in the quiet corners of the rivers
and ponds. He is the solemn sentinel of the waters, and
the moment he rises into the air is the signal for all the other
birds in the vicinity to be on their guard. The Heron loves
to frequent slow running rivers, the shores of lakes, large fish-
ponds, and extensive marshes which are occasionally broken
by shallow rush-grown pools. He is also often seen on the
seashore and near the mouths of tidal rivers, where he walks
sedately about the mud and fishes in the shallow Avaters.

Although every bit as regular in his habits as the Eook,
the Heron cannot be described as a gregarious bird. True,
he lives in colonies during the breeding season, but away
from the nests we seldom see more than three or four together,
and each seems to busy himself with his own affairs alone.
Like a true angler he usually prefers to fish by himself, and
always seems thoroughly engrossed in his occupation. The
Heron is a wanderer, and goes long distances to fish, returning
at dusk to his roosting-place. He is generally to be seen
standing a little distance from shore knee-deep in the water,

THE HERON 171

with neck bent and head almost between his shoulders,
patiently waiting and watching for his food, almost as motion-
less as though he were carved out of marble. But he is alert
and active enough, and woe betide the unlucky fish or frog
that ventures within reach of that spear-like bill, or under
the gaze of that piercing yellow eye. Sometimes he may be
seen standing quietly on the mud on one leg, the other drawn
up close to his body and hidden under the long feathers ; but
if asleep he slumbers with one eye open, and the least sign of
danger causes him to unfold his big black wings and hurriedly
fly away. Generally the Heron looks remarkably graceful,
but when the long neck is held up to its full extent the bird
has an ungainly not to say ugly appearance. Although most
frequently seen on the ground, the Heron is an accomplished
percher, and may often be observed sitting on a slender
branch which bends nearly double under its ponderous burden,
or on the topmost spike of a larch or fir tree. Here he may
seem out of his element, but he is thoroughly at home. The
broad wings of the Heron make his flight appear somewhat
laboured, but he is capable of passing through the air at great
speed, and often flies for very long distances at a time,
frequently going as many as thirty miles to and from a
favourite fishing-place. The flight is performed by slow and
regular beats of the ample wings, the long slender legs are
held out behind, probably acting as a rudder, and the head
and neck are drawn close in between the shoulders. When
he is flying the wings have a singular arched appearance,
which renders the identification of this species an easy
matter.

It is a pleasing sight to watch the Herons fly home at
eventide. They fly high, well out of danger of any ambuscade,
taught by bitter experience to give all suspicious objects a
wide berth. As the dusk creeps over woodland and field and
swamp, and the pale yellow light of the dying day illuminates

172 OUR RARER BIRDS

the landscape with a lurid glare, the big birds fly lazily up
from all points of the compass, gorged with food, to their
roosting - place amongst the tall trees. In winter they
generally sleep in fir woods, but in summer deciduous trees
are just as often selected — usually those in which they have
built their nests. The woods where the Herons roost are a
stirring animated scene at nightfall. As you stand beneath
the lofty trees, hidden amongst the tall underwood, the birds
are seen flying silently across the clear western sky, and the
crashing of the branches in all directions tells you that the
Herons are settling down for the night. Their big forms may
be seen amongst the branches overhead, and the slightest
movement on your part will send them scurrying out again
into the evening gloom. Sometimes two birds quarrel and
come fluttering^ down the trees almost to the o-round ere thev
separate and fly away. The Heron is early astir in the
morning, and is off to seek his breakfast before the sun is
well above the eastern horizon. Sometimes when a bird has
been fishing a long way from home and is overtaken by night,
he sleeps on the water-side. When the moon is at the full,
and the nights are almost as light as day, the Heron stays out
to fish ; and I have often watched them standing motionless
in the water, fishing as patiently and diligently as in the
daytime.

Few birds are so silent as the Heron. When hurriedly
flushed or surprised in some quiet corner of the waters, it
often utters a hoarse croaking sound ; but its usual note,
given forth as it flies through the air, is a loud trumpet kind
of scream, short and deep in tone. When angry or alarmed
I have known it make a loud snapping noise with its beak.
Its voice sounds particularly weird and mysterious from a
midnight sky, or in the gloom of evening, as the birds fly high
in air to the distant roosting-place. The food of the Heron
is largely composed of fish, those from salt as well as fresh

THE HERON 17;

water being eaten indiscriminately. Frogs, small lizards, water
insects, and even small animals, such as shrews and mice, are
also eaten. I have known this bird prey upon young Coots
and Moorhens ; and on one occasion I took the skeleton of a
Eedshank from its nest. Upon the beach it frequently
catches small crabs and quantities of shrim]3S. The Heron is
a voracious feeder, digesting its food very rapidly ; hence the
reason for its fishing so industriously on every possible
opportunity. Its partiality for fish makes it an object of
persecution by all keepers and owners of ponds and rivers
where fish are preserved ; but it is a pity that such a hand-
some bird should be sacrificed at every opportunity for such
a cause.

The Heron, like the Eook, is probably united to its partner
for life, and every year the same nest is occupied. It is an
early breeder, generally laying its eggs in April, and in some
cases as early as the latter end of March. Herons, like Eooks,
breed in societies, and visit their nests more or less frequently
throughout the year. They will establish their colonies in
almost every description of forest tree, generally in thick
woods and plantations. Fir woods are frequently chosen for
the purpose, and it matters very little whether the heronry
be near to water or not. Sometimes their nests are made
in the centre of a large wood far from water ; but at other
times they will establish their colony on the wooded banks of
a lake or river, or even on cliffs both inland and near the
sea. A good look-out is always chosen if the district admits
of a selection in this respect. Let us pay a visit to the
heronry on yonder hillside. As we cross the marshy country
on our way thither, every now and then startled Herons rise
up from the pastures or from quiet corners of the little trout-
stream that dances down the hills. The Herons have chosen
a small wood of larch trees for their colony, and long before
we have reached the place the ever-watchful birds take alarm.

174 OUR RARER BIRDS

and numbers of them are soaring high in air above the nest
trees. The larches are just clothed in their delicate emerald
robe of spring, and are now more beautiful than at any other
time of the year. The big gray Herons may be seen here and
there standing on the highest trees, their plumage contrasting
strongly with the vernal green of the foliage. Every moment
birds are flying up from distant fishing grounds, others are as
constantly leaving the busy colony, which the nearer we get
becomes more and more animated. We are under some of
the outlying nests now, and on every side we hear fluttering
amongst the trees when the big broad wings of the Herons
strike against the branches as the birds hurry away. The
Heron is tamer now than at any other time of the year —
love for its eggs and offspring making it relax its usual wari-
ness. High in air above our heads the graceful Herons are
flying to and fro, not in noisy converse, as Eooks would be,
but philosophically silent. Every now and then we are
startled by a Heron gliding silently within a few yards of
where we are standing, his beautiful plumes and gorget and
yellow eye contrasting richly with the rest of the plumage ;
and we experience quite a novel sensation at seeing so wary
a bird at such close quarters. Every moment birds are
hurriedly flying from their nests, and the swish, swish of their
ample wings is heard as they soar upwards to join their com-
panions high in air above the trees. At such a time we have
a good opportunity of witnessing the great power of flight
and the wonderful command over itself in the air which the
Heron possesses.

But let us leave the birds for a little time and confine our
attention to their nests. These are placed at different heights
up the trees, generally at some distance from the trunk on a
broad level branch, although sometimes one is built on the
flat top of a tree or in a wide fork close to the stem. As in
a rookery, some of the nests are much larger than the others.

THE HERON 175

and these are the ones which have been added to each year.
Before the young are hatched the nests are broad and shallow,
with a small cavity in the centre, in which the eggs are laid ;
but very soon after the young Herons arrive upon the scene
the nests are trodden out of all shape, and more resemble
huge masses of sticks than the homes of birds. They are
almost entirely made of sticks, the large ones forming the
outer framework, and the finer twigs being used as a lining,
which in some cases is further increased by masses of turf
and moss. The nests soon get regularly whitewashed with
the droppings of the birds, and the ground below the trees,
especially late on in the season, when the young birds are
nearly able to fly, is white from the same cause, whilst the
smell from decaying fish and dead nestlings is often very
offensive. Under the trees are to be seen quantities of
broken egg-shells and sticks, which have either been dropped
by the birds or been blown from the nests by the spring
gales.

The eggs of the Heron are from three to five in number,
a beautiful greenish-blue in colour, but without any gloss.
Long before the ungainly-looking nestlings are able to fly,
they clamber out of the nest and explore the neighbouring
branches, often visiting the adjoining trees, where they are
fed by their parents. I have often seen young Herons
climbing about the trees using their beak as well as their feet
to assist them ; and when I have been up the trees examining
the nests I have noticed how quickly the nestlings hurry out
of the way on to the slender branches where pursuit is im-
possible. The Heron only rears one brood in the season.
The young are voracious feeders, and when the heronry is
some distance from the water the old birds' energies are
taxed to the utmost. Early and late, with as much regularity
as Eooks, they may be seen flying backwards and forwards
feeding their ever-hungry young.

176 OUR RARER BIRDS

As soou as the young can fly, the old birds appear to
desert them, and their half-solitary life is resumed. The
young birds are just as retiring in their habits, fishing along
the streams and rivers by themselves, but they are not nearly
so wary as their more experienced parents. During severe
weather the poor Heron is often hard pressed for food, and
it soon becomes very emaciated if the waters continue frost-
bound long. It then seeks the coast in unusual numbers,
makino- for the mudflats and shallow seas, where food in abund-
ance can always be obtained. AVhen so far from home it
often passes the night upon the shore, or joins the members of
another heronry and shares their roosting-place. It is very
rarely that the Heron swims, but it often stands in water up
to its thighs, where it has the appearance of floating on the
surface. The Heron, like most other birds, soon gets used to
the deafening noise of railway trains or the splash of steam-
boats, seeming to know that they bode him no danger. As
the traveller speeds along the estuary of the Exe, for instance,
between Exminster and Dawlish, he may often see the Heron
feeding on the wide expanse of mud not a stone's throw from
the carriage window ; and as he steams up the beautiful wind-
ing Dart between the wooded hills, the big gray Herons show
little concern at the boat's intrusion and fly lazily along the
shore, their plumage contrasting strongly with the luxuriant
verdure on the banks, or start up from the quiet bends of the
stream, where they go to fish in the shallows.

THE WATER-EAIL

(Rallus aqiiaticus)

You will sometimes meet with a skulking little bird
amongst the secluded marshes whose actions put you much
in mind of a Corn-Crake or a Moorhen — this is the Water-
Rail. He may justly rank as one of our rarer birds, though
apt to be thought much scarcer than he really is, owing to
his shy and retiring habits. There are few marshy tracts
where the cover is sufficiently dense, and the waters well
fringed with reeds and rushes, that do not harbour the Water-
Eail during the summer months. In winter he is much more
locally distributed, and numbers retire southwards at this
season from the more northern swamps, returning when the
aquatic vegetation shoots up again and furnishes him with

12

178 OUR RARER BIRDS

the needful cover. We have not a more skulking bird in our
country, and he is one that is very rarely seen in the open.
Seldom does he venture far from the friendly cover, until the
evening's dusk is falling and the big white fog banks roll
heavily over the fens — then you may sometimes catch a
glimpse of him as he timidly creeps out of the rushes into the
open spaces to feed. The least alarm, however, sends him
scurrying off into the reeds, or you hear his splash as he
drops suddenly into the stagnant water and hides in the
vesjetation near the bank.

The haunts of the Water-Eail are a favourite resort of
many kinds of birds. The rare Marsh Harrier may some-
times be seen beating over the vast expanse of swamp and
broad and reed-bed, in search of eggs and birds. Where the
reeds grow tallest, you may perchance catch a hurried view of
the beautiful Bearded Titmouse; Eeed Warblers fill the swamps
w^ith melody; Cuckoos call from the pollard willows; Moorhens
and Coots and Grebes are everywhere ; and now and then a
Gull or a Black Tern may be seen ; and the Corn-Crake's
rasping call is heard from the tall grass and swampy meadows.
Big gray Herons fish in the quiet corners of the broads ; Wild
Ducks and Teals hold their revels in the deeper pools ; high
in air the Snipe is drumming, mingled with the Swifts and
Swallows ; and on the higher ground we may still flush the
Short-eared Owl from her nest. If the curious Spoonbill has
vanished, and the Bittern and the Avocet are seen no longer,
there is still much of all-absorbing interest here to tempt the
lover of nature to these wide expanses of marsh and reed-
fringed waters. At dusk the Water- Rail comes forth ; and in
the twilight you may see him, solitary as is his wont,
swimming across the open water from one bed of reeds to
another, or gliding like a dark shadow amongst the coarse
grass and rushes. You may often hear him utter his peculiar
grating note as he flies round and round above his watery

THE WATER-RAIL 179

haunts, invisible in the gloom, just as the Moorhen is wont
to do ; and rarely you may flush him from the willow
thickets, especially in spring or autumn, when he is rather
unsettled, or in winter, when the weather is severe and most
of the pools are frozen. His food consists of insects, especially
those of the coleopterous order, worms, and various small
moUusks. In winter, when hard pressed, he will eat the
leaves and buds and seeds of various aquatic plants, and I
have known him make a meal on the white snails which often
cover the grass in the autumn months.

Water-Eails are most unsociable birds. Earely do we
meet with more than a pair in one part of the broad, and,
except in the breeding season, we more often meet with a
single solitary bird swimming about seemingly more intent
on concealing itself than any other pursuit. The Water-Eail
may pair for life, although of this I have not much confirma-
tory evidence. It breeds in April and May, making its nest
amongst the clumps of rushes, or in the dense vegetation on
the margin of the water. This nest is most difficult to find,
and usually owes its discovery more to accident than design.
Systematic searching through its haunts may, and often does,
lead to nothing but failure, but we sometimes stumble across
it when we least expect to do so, and in a place we should
scarcely think likely enough to examine. It is made of the
stems and leaves of the reeds and rushes, perhaps a few bits
of coarse grass, or even a dead leaf or two. The eggs are
six or seven in number, and very much like those of the
Land-Eail ; but the spots are smaller, and often more clearly
defined. The sitting-bird is rarely flushed from the eggs —
she leaves them long before her home is approached ; but if
suddenly surprised she slips off and glides through the sur-
rounding herbage with great speed, rarely uttering a sound,
and skulks close by until the danger has passed. I do not
think she ever covers her conspicuous eggs when leaving

i8o OUR RARER BIRDS

them ; the nest is generally too well concealed amongst the
herbage for them to need such further protection when the
sitting-bird is absent. The young chicks, pretty little crea-
tures almost as black as jet, take to the water soon after they
are hatched. It is a very charming sight to see a brood of
these young Water-Eails swimming about the quiet pool, in
and out amongst the reed stems, or running over the broad
flat leaves of the candocks and water-lilies. The voracious
pike often makes a meal of the entire brood, and they have
many perils to undergo ere they reach maturity.

The Spotted Crake {Crex jporzctna) is nmch more locally
distributed than the Water- Eail and is far less common.
Nevertheless, as it breeds in this country it claims a place in
the ranks of our rarer birds. It is readily distinguished by
its white-spotted upper plumage. In all its habits, the haunts
it frequents, the food on which it lives, its note, its flight, and
the materials and situation of the nest, the Spotted Crake
resembles its ally the Water-Eail. Its eggs, however, are very
different, and present characteristics which readily separate
them from those of all other British species. The spots upon
them are large, dark, and very distinctly defined, and the
inside of the shell when held up to the light presents a strong
greenish tinge. Many Spotted Crakes leave this country in
autumn, or simply cross our islands at the two seasons of
migration ; but a few, probably the birds that breed with us,
remain in their old haunts throughout the winter.

Baillon's Crake {Grex hailloni) is a rarer and more local
species still, but it may be much overlooked owing to its
skulking habits. It closely resembles the Spotted Crake in
appearance, but is, of course, easily distinguished by its small
size. Its habits are very similar to those of the preceding
species ; it loves to frequent the little pools of still water
which are densely fringed with rushes, flags, and aquatic
vegetation of all kinds. Small as it is, it swims lightly and

THE WATER- RAIL i8i

buoyantly, dives readily, and flies quickly but in a rather
laboured manner. It dislikes the open, only takes wing
when compelled, and always prefers to hide amongst the
herbage when danger threatens. Its food is composed of
insects, worms, and the various small moUusks that fre-
quent the w^ater. Its nest, cunningly hidden amongst
the reeds, is made of dry rushes and scraps of withered
aquatic herbage. From five to eight eggs are laid, in shape
something like those of the Little Grebe, buff of various
shades in ground colour, clouded and mottled with olive-brown
and gray. The eggs of the Little Crake cannot be distin-
guished with certainty from those of this bird, but the former
species has never been known to breed in this country.
Baillon's Crake is a resident in the fens and broads of Cam-
bridireshire and Norfolk.

THE STONE-CUELEW

{CEdicn emus cre])itans)

Still keeping to the low-lying counties, but repairing to
the heaths and commons on the wolds, we may have the good
fortune to meet with the singular and interesting Stone-
Curlew, Norfolk Plover, or Thicknee, as it is severally known.
It is not related very closely to the Curlew, being in fact
intermediate between the Bustards and the Plovers, probably
most closely related to the latter group of birds. It is a
summer migrant to this country, and in spite of the drainage,
which has greatly curtailed its haunts, still continues to be
fairly well distributed in suitable districts. It returns year
after year to its favourite haunts, arriving here in April and
leaving in October. Wide extensive heaths and rough open
country, which is often turned into rabbit warrens, are the
places the Stone -Curlew loves. He is a bird of the dry
sandy soils, and rarely if ever wanders to the lower and more
marshy ground. Nor does he frequent the wooded country,
although his favourite heath may be surrounded with trees
and fields with tall hedges. The ground cannot be too rough
or broken for the Stone-Curlew — heath and furze and briars,
coarse grass and stunted bushes, intermixed with bare pebbly
ground; these are the characteristics of its summer haunt.
It is a w^ary bird, and usually takes wing the moment an
intruder steps upon the heath. Sometimes you may see it
standing amongst the herbage, looking warily around with its

THE STONE-CURLEW 183

head held high ; and if you approach it runs rapidly for a
little way, then rises into the air. The Stone- Curlew becomes
most active at dusk, and during the warm summer nights its
loud and plaintive note may be incessantly heard high up in
the air, as the bird flies to and fro above the heath. Its large
prominent eye informs us that it is a night feeder, and in this
respect it shows a closer affinity with the Plovers than with
the Bustards. In the gloom it searches for the worms and
snails and beetles on which it feeds ; but it also catches frogs,
and even lizards and field mice.

By the end of April, or very early in May, the Stone-
Curlew has commenced breeding. I have taken its eggs in
Lincolnshire during the first week in May. The nest is most
difficult to find, as the old birds do little to betray its where-
abouts. At the first sign of your appearance on the heath
which contains their nest the ever-watchful female quits her
eggs, the warning note being given by the sentinel male,
and running along some distance from her home she usually
takes wing, and both the birds fly away to a distant part of
their haunt. You must always search the barest ground for
the eggs of the Stone-Curlew — places where the heather has
been burned in previous years, leaving the ground rough and
stony, or where the peat has been dug for fuel by the peas-
antry. The nest is but a shallow hollow in the ground, without
lining of any kind, and the eggs are two in number, buff in
ground colour, spotted and blotched and streaked with brown
of various shades and light gray. Some eggs are covered with
streaky markings instead of spots. They resemble those of
the Oystercatcher, but may readily be distinguished by their
smaller size. They are eminently protective in colour, and
require the sharpest eyes to detect them from surrounding
objects. In the number of the eggs the naturalist will notice
a close affinity to the Bustards — all true Plovers lay four.
The young run soon after they are hatched, and when

1 84 OUR RARER BIRDS

approached they scatter and conceal themselves amongst the
herbage and stones ; and sometimes the mother bird crouches
close to the ground and remains motionless, just as the female
Pheasant will often do under similar circumstances.

As soon as the young birds can fly, the Stone-Curlew be-
comes more gregarious. The broods and their parents often
unite with other families that have been bred on the same
stretch of heath, and feed and fly together in a small flock
until the time of departure arrives. In the dusk of the autumn
evenings, or in the hours of early morning, the Stone-Curlews
are particularly active ; and I have seen them amongst the
turnips at this season searching for worms and snails under
the broad dew -laden leaves. How beautiful these autumn
morninofs are ! What a brisfht fresh charm the fields and
heaths possess in these early hours before the bustling busy
world is well awake I This is the chosen hour for animated
nature, and birds are exceptionally active and full of excite-
ment. What pen can do justice to the glorious tints of the
autumn woods, or the bewitching colours on the hedgerows
and the heaths as they glow and glisten in the rising sun ?
The air is deliciously sharp and fresh, and laden with the
dying year's sweet fragrance. How mellow is the voice of the
Stormcock ! how plaintively beautiful the Eobin's autumnal
song ! Most birds display more activity now than they will
indulge in until evening, and the Stone-Curlews are no excep-
tion to the rule. They may be watched feeding on the marshy
portions of the heaths, or running up and down amongst the
short ling in quest of sustenance. Though excessively wary
and shy, it is easy to conceal yourself amongst the thick vege-
tation, and watch their movements either as they run about the
ground or fly from place to place high up in the air. The
Stone-Curlew migrates at night, and leaves us in autumn as
suddenly and as stealthily as it came in spring. A figure of this
curious bird is iiiven in the illustration with the Water-Eail.

-i

THE OYSTERCATCHEE

{Hoematopus ostndegus)

This singular bird may best be described as the Magpie of
the shore, its black and white plumage, brilliant orange bill,
and pink legs, making it a very conspicuous object along the
precipitous coast. It is only occasionally that we meet with
the Oystercatcher on the mudflats and marshy shores, and
then in autumn and winter. It loves the lono; reaches of
rock-bound coast, which are occasionally varied by stretches
of sand and shingle, with quiet ba3's and creeks and lochs
which expose a considerable portion of rough beach at low
water. You may also often meet with this bird on low rocky
islands, even where there is little beach. The Oystercatcher
is the very life and animation of the coast. Wary and shy, it
is seldom you can approach him very closely. He rises into

1 86 OUR RARER BIRDS

the air, uttering his loud luej)-licc-p-liecii as he goes, and dashes
impetuously off across the bay or round the distant x^oint the
moment you approach too near his haunt.

If you wish to observe the Oystercatcher's actions on the
shore you must stalk him, every bit as carefully as you would
a timid deer, or conceal yourself behind the rocks, or amongjst
the big wet seaweed-covered boulders, in the rear of the sand
and shingle. What a dainty, pretty, lively bird he is ! See
how quickly he runs across the smooth beach or trips lightly
over the rougher ground, searching everywhere for the crea-
tures on which he feeds ! His long chisel-shaped beak pokes
into the crevices and turns over the pebbles, exposing the
crustaceans and other small marine animals. It also serves
another important purpose, and that is to wrench off the
limpets from the rocks, which he does with a sharp twist of
his head, and then picks out the contents of the shell. At
low water he is busy amongst the rocks, which are festooned
with mussels, and then he is perhaps seen to best advantage,
his very decided black and white plumage contrasting richly
with the dark rocks and olive seaweeds. Many a time do
I stand and watch this bird at the head of some quiet
sea-loch when the tide is out, busy amongst the whelks and
other shellfish. Or when the tide is coming in he is equally
active, perhaps even more so than usual, as if he were anxious
to get as much food as possible before the water covered the
rocks. So eager does he search that the spent waves break
round him, or he rushes into the foaming water as it recedes
down the bank of sand to catch some little struoTrlinor worm
or shrimp that has been cast ashore. At high water, especially
in districts where his usual feeding grounds are covered by
the tide, he may often be seen standing on some huge rock
near the waves ; and at St. Kilda I used frequently to see
these birds fast asleep on the big stones waiting for the
ebb.

THE OYSTERCATCHER 187

The Oystercatcher is not what we can call gregarious, but
it is very social, and often unites into little parties which feed
and fly in company. In summer it is generally observed in
pairs, and few birds are more attached to each other. If one
of the birds is shot its companion flies round and round above
its fallen comrade uttering its shrill mournful pipe, and every
now and then swooping down and almost touching its body,
utterly regardless of its own safety. I have seen the Oyster-
catcher fly about for hours above the body of its mate, which
was lying in the sea, slowly drifting with the tide ; and some-
times several lairds will come upon the sad scene and chant
the death knell of their poor companion. Who shall say,
after this, that the " lower animals," as man is so pleased to
call them, are not capable of displaying sentiment as true and
as tender as his own ?

At times like this we have a good opportunity of wit-
nessing the Oystercatcher's great power of wing. Its flight
is u.sually straightforward, the wings rapidly beating and
producing a pretty effect as the white and black parts show
out alternately ; but before the bird alights it often skims
along just above the beach w^itli outstretched wings, and when
finally at rest keeps them elevated for a moment ere grace-
fully folding them. Nothing can exceed the wild impetuous
dash of this bird as it rises from the shore when suddenly
alarmed, and it often turns and twists about in a very erratic
manner before finally settling down on its course, putting you
somewhat in mind of the Jack Snipe. When wounded the
Oystercatcher often takes to the water to escape, but I do
not think it dives or swims at any other time. The Oyster-
catcher feeds on the various shellfish inhabiting the rocky
and sandy shores; but in addition to these it digs in the
sand for worms, and picks up many small beetles on the
hio'her crround.

In early spring the Oystercatcher is not quite so shy.

1 88 OUR RARER BIRDS

although its wariness is never relaxed. The breeding season
is fast approaching, and as soon as May arrives we can search
for its nest with the certainty of success. Its breeding
grounds are on the shingly beaches, where the shore is thickly
strewn with round pebbles and broken shells. A favourite
situation is just above the line of drift in a quiet bay, where
the pebbles are thickly strewn with scraps of dry seaweed,
stranded corks broken loose from the fishing-nets, bits of
worm-eaten wood, broken shells, and other refuse. This line
of rubbish marks the limits of the high tides, and usually a
yard higher up the beach the Oystercatcher lays her eggs. I
have taken them in various other situations. Perhaps the
most singular of these was on the summit of a low stack of
rocks about fifty feet above the water. Another nest was made
amongst the big boulders in a little bay in the cliffs, quite in-
accessible to a human intruder, except by means of a boat ;
and I have seen many others on low rocky islands, but always
amongst the shingle on the shore. The Oystercatcher never
nests on the bare sand like the Einged Plover, but always
amongst the rough beach. A peculiarity about the nesting
economy of this bird is its making several nests before it is
finally satisfied. I have seen as many as six of these mock
nests within a few yards of the one that contained the eggs.
It may be that the bird moves its eggs about a good deal if
the water threatens to wash them away, each time making a
new nest for them in a place of greater safety. The Oyster-
catcher's nest scarcely deserves the name, and is only a hollow
in the shingle, where the small pebbles and bits of broken
shells and dry seaweed are smoothed into a bed for the eggs.
These are usually three in number, but sometimes four, and
in rarer instances only two. They are buff in ground colour,
blotched and streaked and spotted with blackish-brown and
pale gray. They vary considerably in size, shape, and mark-
ings. Some have more streaks on them than others, and some

THE OYSTERCATCHER 189

have most of the markings in an irregular band round the
larger end.

The Oystercatcher is never seen to rise from her nest ; she
is too watchful and wary thus to betray its whereabouts, and
takes wing long before you are on the breeding ground. The
ever-watchful male bird is somewhere about the locality of
the nest, always within call, and never fails to warn his mate
of an intruder's approach. Suddenly the two birds rise piping
into the air and career wildly about, uttering their loud note,
which may be heard for a long distance along the shore
and across the water. Several pairs generally nest near
together, and when they are all on wing at once and calling
lustily the noise is almost deafening. The wary birds know
full well that their eggs are clothed in protective tints and
require none of their protection. It is very noteworthy how
the eggs resemble the pebbles and shells and shingle, and
require a most diligent search to discover them. When the
young are hatched they are of equally protective tints, and at
the approach of danger hide amongst the stones, where it is
almost impossible to find them. When the birds have young
they become even more demonstrative, and swoop and scream
round your head in utter anguish. If the first clutch of eggs
are taken, the Oystercatcher lays more, but in no case is a
second brood reared in the year.

In autumn the broods of young Oystercatchers and their
parents keep in company and sometimes join similar parties,
but I never see them in very large flocks. They do not
wander much from home ; but in October many birds of this
species visit our low-lying coasts from more northern lands,
and they are often caught in the flight-nets.

THE EINGED PLOVEE

(Charadri us hiatic ula)

As yoii wander along the broad stretches of rich brown
sand and cross the patches of shingle and broken shells, you
may often see a little bird running along the edge of the
waves, looking very conspicuous in its dress of white and
brown and black. This is the Einged Plover, a bird that
may be found along those portions of the coast suitable to its
requirements all through the year. Sometimes, especially in
autumn and winter, you may meet with him on the mudflats
tripping daintily over the shore, dodging the waves that ripple
at his feet, and occasionally running into the water for a little
distance to pick up some floating particle of food. He also
frequents the banks of the tidal rivers ; and during spring
and autumn often visits large inland sheets of water, where
he fraternises with the Common Sandpiper. But his favourite
haunt is on the sandy coast or on the shores of the broad
mountain lakes and salt-water lochs. If wary, he is by
no means shy, and, provided you do not alarm him,
he will trip about before you and let you observe his
every action. During autumn and winter this little bird
lives in flocks of varying size. If the district is suitable
and food plentiful, the birds gather into large assemblies ;
if the sands are limited in extent, only small parties are
met with.

There is not a more active or engaging little bird on the

THE RINGED PLOVER 191

coast. He is incessantly in motion, tripping over the sands
and the shingle ; now pausing a moment to dig up a worm
from the sand, then running on again to join his companions.
See him run after the retreating waves and search the wet
shining sand as soon as it is free from water, being driven back
again by the next wave that breaks along the shore. You
may observe his conspicuous dress for a long distance across
the sand or the mud; but when on the shingle you may often
stumble over him before he rises with a sharp cry of alarm
and flits rapidly before you a long way down the coast. His
flight is quick, his long wings beating rapidly ; but sometimes
he skims along for a considerable distance, usually before he
alights. He rarely flies very high, except when passing to a
distant part of tlie shore, or when seriously alarmed — then he
often o'oes some distance out to sea and hurries alono- close to

o o

the waves. His actions round the sheets of fresh water are
much the same as on the coast. He frequents the shallow
margin of the pool, and especially delights to hunt for food
where a stream falls into the lake. I have seen this graceful
little bird repeatedly on the stone walls which enclose
reservoirs, and on the tops of weirs and sluices, running
about with as much ease and activity as on the shore. It
often utters its alarm-note when in these situations — a loud
double note, something like the spring call of the male
Chaffinch; but its usual call -note is a much harsher and
more guttural cry. In spring this little Plover sometimes
rises into the air and utters a not unmusical cry, which may
probably be its love song.

The food of this pretty species is composed of the small
creatures found in the soft sand and mud — sand worms,
shrimps, and the inmates of the tiny shells. It is also quite
an adept at catching flies, and finds many beetles on the
higher grounds and near the inland fresh -waters. I have
taken the remains of vegetable substances from its stomach.

192 OUR RARER BIRDS

SO that it occasionally feeds on buds and shoots of marine
and fresh- water plants.

The Einged Plover is a rather late breeder. So far as my
observations extend, I rarely find its eggs before the end of
May, and in backward seasons not until early June. I have
taken fresh eggs of this species even in the third week of the
latter month. Its breeding grounds are principally on^ the
sandy shores. It does not frequent the shingly beaches so
much as the broad stretches of fine sand ; it has a reason for
this, which we shall soon discover when we have found its
nest. In the late spring the big flocks of Einged Plovers dis-
band ; many of them retire to more northern latitudes, and
the birds return to their favourite breeding -places. But
even in summer this bird still remains very sociable, and
parties of six or eight individuals may constantly be seen
feeding and flying together. The eggs must be carefully
searched for, as the parent birds very rarely betray their
whereabouts. Experience has taught me that it is of little
use to hunt amongst the coarse shingle ; but by confining my
attention to the strips of fine sand I am soon rewarded by
a sight of the nest. Nothing indeed could be more simple —
sometimes a hollow is formed in the sand, but very often
even that provision is dispensed with and the eggs lie on
the bare flat surface. They are always laid well above
high -water mark; and very often several nests may be
observed quite close togethei^ The eggs are four in number,
dark cream in ground colour, minutely spotted with dark
brown and pale gray. Most of the markings are very small,
but generally a few large spots are scattered amongst them, prin-
cipally at the large end of the egg. Having now the eggs before
us, we can see why they are laid upon the sand. Their fine
markings effectually harmonise with surrounding tints, but if
they were laid on shingle they would be much more easily
seen. The old birds never show much anxiety for their eggs,

THE RINGED PLOVER 193

as if fully conscious that they were far more likely to escape
detection when left to themselves. I have found numbers
of nests on one small stretch of beach, always on the sand,
and the whole time the birds have been in little parties, run-
ning up and down the shore without showing any sign of
uneasiness. In the hot June days the birds do not sit on
their eggs much in the daytime, and probably the sun
materially helps in hatching them. When the young are
hatched, however, the behaviour of the Eiuged Plovers is very
different ; and by many a wary artifice they strive to draw
all attention upon themselves, until the downy chicks have
had time to hide in the nooks and crannies on the beach.
The bare sand is now deserted, and the old birds try to keep
their young as much as possible upon the shingly shore, where
they are least conspicuous. I do not think more than one
brood is reared in the season ; but if the first lot of eggs be
destroyed another clutch is laid, and then the young are of
necessity much later in their appearance.

I cannot leave this favourite little bird of mine without
calling the reader's attention to the fact that there appear to
be two races of it inhabiting this country. The larger bird is
found on our coasts at all seasons, but the smaller variety is
migratory and only visits us in the summer. I have examined
many specimens of both races, and the differences are very
marked when the birds are viewed side by side. Much
confusion still exists, and the matter is well worthy the
attention of the field naturalist, as very probably the smaller
and migratory bird differs in habits, in voice, and haunts
from its larger and resident congener.

Two other species belonging to the group of Plovers of
which the Ptinged Plover is typical must here be noticed.
The first of these, the Kentish Plover {Charadrius ccmtianus),
distinguished by having the back of the head and the nape
buff, and the black collar only represented by a patch on

194 OUR RARER BIRDS

either side, is one of our rarest British birds. The coasts of
Kent and Sussex are its only known breeding-places in this
country, but it has occasionally been met with elsewhere as a
straggler. It arrives in its English haunts at the end of
April, and leaves early in September. It loves to frequent
the quiet beaches where shingles and sands intermingle. In
its food, habits, flight, and nesting economy it differs little
from its congener, the Einged Plover. It breeds towards the
end of May, laying its eggs in a little hollow scraped on the
shore. The eggs are four in number, yellowish -brown in
ground colour, blotched, spotted, and streaked with dark
brown and pale gray. Their smaller size, dark colour, and
peculiar streaky markings safely distinguish them from those
of the Eino'ed Plover.

o

To the British naturalist the Dotterel {Charadrms mori-
nellus) is best known as a bird on migration, speeding to or
from the arctic regions. Unlike its allies, the Panged Plovers,
it loves the uplands and breeds upon the tundras and the
mountain tops. But very few of the Dotterels that pass over
our islands on their way north remain during the summer,
and these for the most part confine themselves to the summits
of the highest and the wildest Scottish mountains. It is a
very tame little creature, and seems to have no fear of man.
It arrives at its breeding -grounds in parties, which soon
disperse, and the serious business of the year commences.
High up the mountains, in the haunt of the Ptarmigan,
amongst the mosses and lichens, cranberries and rocky
boulders, it scrapes a little hollow, in which the female lays
three eggs during the first half of June. These are very
handsome objects, varying from grayish-buff to olive-buff in
ground colour, boldly blotched and spotted with dark brown
and gray. They are not easily confused with those of any
other British species, except perhaps w^ith certain varieties of
those of the Arctic Tern, from which they differ in having

THE RINGED PLOVER 195

fewer grayer markings. Singularly enough, in this species
the female is the most brightly coloured, and the less showy
male hatches the eggs and tends the young. Only one brood
is reared in the season. Insects, worms, and tender shoots of
herbage are the Dotterel's principal food. The Dotterel
migrates very quickly in spring, coming from its winter
haunts in Africa to England in a night ; but in autumn it
passes south more leisurely, and often stays a day or so on
the lowland pastures.

THE GOLDEN PLOYEE

(Cliaradrius pluvialis)

The Golden Plover is another of those birds that change
their haunt according to the season. In winter it loves the
lowlands ; the coasts cannot be too flat, and the marshes too
wet with salt water, for this pretty bird ; but in summer these
places lose all their charm, and it quits them for the high
moorlands and mountain sides of the inland districts.

From the shore
The Plovers scatter o'er the heath,
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste.

Few birds are more locally distributed than the Golden
Plover, especially in the breeding season; and to study its
habits in summer time we must visit once more the brown
heathery wastes of the north. These moors are the summer

THE GOLDEN PLOVER 197

home of many migratory birds. In winter they are almost
deserted of bird-life — only the Eed Grouse lives upon them ;
but with the budding springtime every part of their broad
expanse becomes the chosen retreat of various birds. None
of these are more obtrusive than the Golden Plover. He
loves the broad hollows which are full of swamps and reed
tufts, studded with patches of heather, and here and there
with little pools of clear sparkling water, on whose banks
small willows and a few silver birches find root. Or you
may meet with him still higher up the hillsides, on the
very summits of the smaller mountains, where ground fruits
flourish, and the soft peaty soil is furrowed with countless
ridges, which in wet weather become tiny rills. Here the
ground is almost as uneven as a restless sea, thickly clothed
with coarse vegetation ; endless little hillocks and hollows,
tufts of cotton grass and rushes, patches of bilberries and
cranberries, and here and there a few bushes of heather. As
soon as you set foot on this wide expanse of wilderness, the
Golden Plovers rise into the air and protest against the
intrusion of their solitudes. If it be early spring you may
chance to see the birds in flocks which have not yet broken
up into pairs, and then they are more wild than usual, and
often soar to a <yreat heidit, and wheel round and round above
your head uttering their wild expressive notes. A week or
so later these flocks have vanished, and the birds will only
be met with in scattered pairs, as you may chance to intrude
upon their breeding grounds. Then the Golden Plover loses
much of its accustomed shyness, and often runs up and down
over the little mounds, or stands looking at you from the
summit of a tuft of grass. How daintily tliey poise on
these little summits, or trip into the hollows ; now flying
a little way, and then alighting again with uplifted wings
to run some distance or stand a few seconds before finally
folding them! And then how beautifully their speckled

OUR RARER BIRDS

golden upper plumage contrasts with the vernal verdure,
and how conspicuous their black bellies look as they rise
into the air! Ever and anon their wild flute-like whistle,
sounding like Klee-wee, breaks the stillness of the fresh
mountain air, and is answered from all parts of the moor.
Should you remain long watching their movements, every
bird in the district takes up the alarm, and you see them
rising from the heath or settling down again on every side,
and hear their piercing notes from all parts of the moor.
The flight of this bird is powerful and at times very rapid,
performed with regular beats of the long wings ; but we never
see this Plover indulge in those aerial movements which
are so characteristic of the Lapwing.

In summer the Golden Plover feeds almost exclusively on
worms and insects. These birds are not what we can call
Cfresarious in summer, althous^h numbers breed on the same
stretch of moor ; still they are eminently social among them-
selves, and often feed in parties. I remember once to have
come across a small flock of these birds, which were feeding
on the maggots in a dead sheep lying a little distance from a
roug^h wall. Through a hole in this wall I was able to watch
the actions of these pretty birds ; and it was a curious sight
to see them running nimbly over the sheep's body, some of
them half hidden amongst the wool and flesh, and all so
eager in their search for food as to allow me to approach
them actually within a few feet before they took wing. I
have often seen them in the rough pastures, close to the
moors on which sheep and cattle are turned out to graze
during the summer. Here they frequent the droppings of
these animals, and turn over the manure for the beetles and
small worms ; and they also search for food in the little
swamps, and by the sides of the mountain pools. When on
the moors in summer they eat various kinds of seeds, as well
as the buds and shoots of plants. In winter the Golden

THE GOLDEN PLOVER 199

Plovers feed on the various marine animals wliicli are cast
up by the waves, or lurk in the mud and ooze of the low-
lying shores.

If you wish to find the Golden Plover's nest you must
delay your visits to its breeding grounds until the middle of
May, and if the season is a late one, a w^eek later still. You
may soon ascertain if the birds have begun to lay by their move-
ments wdien you approach their haunts. They are exception-
ally tame, and as a rule the male birds alone come first before
your notice. Like watchful sentinels, they stand on the little
knolls and give the single plaintive warning- note to their
mates. If approached they often run a short distance, then
mayhap take wing and wheel round your head, then alight
on an adjoining mound and stand and watch your movements.
While your attention is confined to the male bird, the female
has already slipped off her nest at the first warning cry and
soon joins him. You may then be sure the eggs are laid and
not very far away. Search carefully amongst the tufts of
cotton grass, or beneath the shelter of any little prominent
tuft of vegetation, and you will soon be rewarded by a sight
of the Plover's home. It is but a simple little affair — ^just a
hollow lined with a few bits of withered herbage, but beauti-
fully smooth and round. In this the female lays her four
richly - coloured, handsome, pear-shaped eggs. They are
remarkably large for the size of the bird, very similar to those
of the Lapwing, but much brighter looking and richer in
colour. The ground colour is more inclined to buff than
olive, and the markings are deeper brown and larger. You
will observe that these eggs are most protectively coloured,
and are very inconspicuous on the moorland waste. The
parent birds know this full well, and the instant danger
threatens they leave them to the safety their brown tints
ensure. As soon as the young are hatched the parents
become even more anxious for their safety, and often reel and

200 OUR RARER BIRDS

tumble along the ground to decoy an intruder away. The
young chicks themselves are cunning little creatures, and hide
amongst the herbage at the approach of danger. Here the
yellow down, spotted and blotched with black, with which
they are clothed assimilates with surrounding objects and
makes their discovery exceedingly difficult. Both birds assist
in hatching the eggs and attending to the young, and only
one brood is reared in the year.

When once the young are able to fly, the Golden Plovers
begin to collect into flocks. Brood joins brood ; young and
old gather together; but they still frequent the moors as
long as the weather remains settled. At the first approach
of the autumn gales the flocks become still larger, until it
seems as if all the birds on the moors for miles had united in
one vast company, and then they leave for the distant coast,
travelling by night. Here they frequent the wide expanses
of mudflat and salt-marsh, searchino- for their food when the
tide has ebbed and left the shores full of their favourite food.
In the late autumn days, say when October's month is waning,
I often watch the migrations of the Golden Plover. In
addition to the birds that have bred on our own hills and
mountains, vast numbers of this pretty bird come from the
northern regions ; and for days and nights they may be seen
and heard passing along the coasts in countless thousands,
many of them bound for still more southern lands. These
vast flocks of Golden Plovers obtain much of their food at
night, especially when the moon is near the full ; and you
may watch them running about the shining mud in quest of
food, wadinsf in the shallows, or waiting: in a crowded mass
on some outlying spit of land for the waters to subside.
They often visit the wet marshy meadows near the coast
during the period of high water. They are much more wary
now than when we saw them at their nests, and when alarmed
the whole flock often rises into the air and performs various

THE GOLDEN PLOVER

graceful evolutions. These birds are sometimes caucrht in
tlie flight-nets on the coast, and are much sought after by the
shore-shooter, for their flesh is highly prized as an article of
food. I sometimes think that many of the Golden Plovers
that breed on our moors go far to the south in winter, and
that most of the birds we see on the coast at that season are
from the high north. Migrating flocks of these birds cross
country in flying south in autumn, instead of passing along
the coast, and return, as I have sometimes seen them on the
southern downs, flying due north in spring.

THE EEDSHANK AXD KNOT

[Totanus calidris and Tringa canutus)

Xext to the Common Sandpiper, the Eedshank is perhaps
the best known of its order, though in summer especially it is
somewhat locally distributed. Like most wading birds, the Eed-
shank changes it haunts with the change of season ; in winter
frequenting the mudflats and coast -marshes and the banks
of tidal rivers ; in spring retiring to inland moors and fens for
the purpose of rearing its young. The drainage of so much
marshy ground of late years in the fen districts has destroyed
many a wild breeding-place of the Eedshank, and caused the
bird to retire still farther into the w^ilderness. Nothing can
perhaps exceed the dreariness of the wide expanding wastes
of mud on the low-lying coasts during summer time. But
few birds approach them. Xow and then the Gulls beat
slowly along over the shallow sea, or perhaps a Heron or a
Wild Duck may be seen upon them. But with the approach
of autumn the scene changes as if by magic. Birds in count-
less thousands appear upon these uninteresting mudflats, and
suddenly imbue them with life. Flock after flock comes
pouring in from across the sea and from inland moors and
mountains ; bird after bird is driven from the ice-bound
north, and bends its southern flight to the perennial store-
houses of food to be found on these dreary strands. The
Eedshank is amongst the first to arrive, appearing in flocks
on the tide-flats early in the waning year. It is an interesting

THE REDSHANK 203

little creature, easily recognised by its long, bright, orange-
coloured legs, and is very like a Sandpiper in its movements.
Like most coast birds it is very wary, and you must be con-
tent to watch it tripping over the mud and sand at a safe
distance. Every little wave that breaks upon the shore in
its vicinity is closely watched, and the sand is probed here
and there with its long beak. It is an active little creature,
incessantly in motion when the tide is ebbing and flowing ;
but sometimes at high water it may be seen standing on the
narrow banks of mud waiting^ for the strand to become
exposed again. The Eedshank becomes particularly lively at
dusk, and much of its food must be obtained by moonlight.
Numbers of these birds are caught in the nets placed to catch
the different kinds of wild-fowl that wander up and down the
coast and over the shallow waters. Its food in winter is
principally composed of sand worms, marine insects, and the
inmates of various small shells; but in summer it lives on
insects and larvae, and in some districts will even eat bil-
berries.

At the first sign of spring the Eedshanks quit the coasts
and visit their breeding-places on the higher ground. This
may not be far away from their winter quarters— on the fens
and broads of the low-lying counties, or on the moors above
the sandy coasts. Very often the birds visit the distant
mountain lakes and flat stretches of bo2[ amono-st the hills,
miles and miles away from the sea. Here, like the Lapwing
and the Golden Plover, it is ever on the alert, and the
moment you set foot on the moor the wary Eedshanks rise
into the air, rapidly uttering their loud double-note. Should
the eggs be laid, the birds become more trustful, and sometimes
allow you to approach them as they run anxiously about the
moor. They are conspicuous objects when perched on the
top of a tuft of cotton grass or rushes, and look very pretty
as they trip round the margin of the pools, or even run along

204 OUR RARER BIRDS

the rough walls and fences in their anxiety and excitement.
The male bird at this season may often be seen soaring in the
air and descending with wdngs and tail expanded, uttering a
shrill note very rapidly ; and he often begins these flights by
starting from a stump, wall, or a tree, and returns to the same
place, much after the manner of the Meadow Pipits that live
upon the moors w4th him. They rarely go far aw^ay now w^hen
disturbed, and usually fly on rapid wing for a short distance,
or perhaps run along the ground with their wdngs elevated and
half open. According to the state of the season, the Eedshank
begins to lay by the end of April or the middle of May, and
several nests may usually be found wdthin a small area of
ground. In a dense tuft of orass or rushes, or beneath the
shelter of a heather bush or the bilberry wdres, the Eedshank
makes its nest — simply a hollow, lined with a few bits of dry
grass, rush, or scraps of heath and bilberry leaves. In this
the female lays her four pear-shaped handsome eggs, buff in
ground colour, boldly blotched and spotted with rich brown,
chiefly on the larger half of the shell. These eggs are very
protective in colour ; and tlie wary birds leave them the
moment danger threatens. I have known this bird, wdien the
eggs were highly incubated, flutter along the ground as if
wounded, and try by many artifices to draw all attention
upon herself. Only one brood is reared in the season, and
the young are tended by both parents, the wdiole family
keeping much together for the remainder of the year.

The next species whose habits and economy we are
about to notice is a very local one, and of exceptional
interest to ornithologists. Indeed, this unusual interest
attaching to the Knot must be my only excuse for including
it among our rarer birds, in spite of the fact that it does not
breed in this country. The Knot is an arctic bird, penetrating
every summer into the most remote districts of the polar
regions, going as far north as land extends. Here it rears its

THE KNOT 205

brood during the short but hot arctic summer, and then
hurriedly comes south again as soon as its autumn moult is
completed. Although the Knot frequents certain parts of
our coast in countless thousands every year, not one of these
birds remain to breed, and its eggs have never yet been taken
by man. The immigration of the Knot into this country begins
as early as August, and the birds continue to arrive in thou-
sands until the end of October. Singularly enough the young
birds are the first to come (piloted by a few adults), and they
are followed a little later by their parents. Few shore-birds are
more gregarious than this little arctic wader, and flocks com-
posed of thousands of individuals frequent the boundless mud-
flats, feeding on the edge of the incoming tide, or frequenting
the margins of the big pools of salt water on the marshes.
Vast numbers of Knots are caught every autumn in the flight-
nets, and the shore-shooter is ever trying to discharge his gun
at the flocks of this interesting little bird. The young birds
are remarkably tame on their arrival. They have had no
experience of man in the country which they have just left,
but incessant persecution soon makes them uncommonly wary
and suspicious. They run nimbly about the shore, generally
all the birds in a flock headinfr in the same direction, searchino-
systematically every foot of ground. AVhen alarmed the
whole flock rises at once, and often performs various graceful
evolutions in the air before settling again on a distant part of
the coast.

Knots feed at night as well as by day, and I have often
watched them on the mudflats by the light of the moon
running about near the sea, or huddled together on a sand-
bank in a dense mass waiting for the water to subside. When
feeding the Knots are constantly in motion, and every now
and then a bird flutters up into the air and passes over its
companions to search a fresh bit of ground. Here in this
country the food of the Knot is composed of small marine

2o6 OUR RARER BIRDS

animals, such as sand-worms, shrimps, mollusks, and even on
stranded starfish and little crabs. I have taken remains of
small black beetles from their stomachs.

By the middle of May most of the Knots have deserted
our mudflats and maritime marshes, and sped northwards to
the arctic regions for the summer. They lose no time on the
way, and must begin breeding soon after they arrive. The
summer in those latitudes, if bright and sunny, is remarkably
shorts besides, the young birds reach our shores amongst the
very earliest of the autumn migrants. Of the habits of this
bird at its breeding grounds I know nothing from personal
observation; but its young in down are exceedingly pretty
little creatures, grayish-yellow, mottled with black and brown
—tints probably of greatest service in concealing the chick
from its many enemies. There can be little doubt that in the
number and colour of its eggs, and in its nesting economy
generally, the Knot does not differ from its close allies. The
Knot is remarkable for the great difference in colour of its
summer and winter dress. In winter it is grayish-brown on
the upper parts, and nearly uniform pure white on the under
parts ; but in spring the former portions of its plumage are
black and chestnut, and the latter become deep reddish-
chestnut.

The Greenshank {Totamis glottis), distinguished from its
allies by its uniform brown secondaries, breeds sparingly
in the wildest districts of the Highlands and the Hebrides.
It is one of our most local summer migrants, best known
during the seasons of passage, w^hen it is fairly common on
the low-lying coasts. It arrives in April and INIay, and the
southern flight extends through September and October. In
many of its habits it resembles the Eedshank. Its haunts
are the moors and desolate islands, especially those where
there is an abundance of w^ater and swamp. It feeds on
insects, crustaceans, worms, and even small fish. Late in

THE KI^OT 207

May the Greenshank makes its scanty nest amongst the
heather or coarse vegetation in the dryest parts of its haunts,
generally on some little eminence. It is merely a hollow,
lined with a few bits of dry grass and leaves. The eggs, four
in number, are pale or dark buff in ground colour, boldly
blotched and spotted, especially on the large end, with dark
brown and violet-gray. When its breeding grounds are in-
vaded by man the Greenshank becomes anxious and noisy,
careering wildly about the air, uttering its loud double-note,
or alighting on the moor and running along the ground.
As soon as the young can fly, the birds leave the moors
for the nearest coast, and as autumn approaches gradually
move southwards.

THE DUNLIN AND PHALAEOPE

{Trimja alpina and Phalaropus hyperboreus)

The Dunlin is another common little bird of the shore,
frequenting the sands and mudflats through the winter,
retiring to the moorlands in summer for the purpose of rearing
its young. It is certainly the most gregarious Sandpiper on
the coast, and not only lives in vast flocks during winter, but
in the breeding season may frequently be observed in parties
of considerable size. The active little Dunlin is a special
favourite of mine, and his actions on the beach or the moor-
lands never fail to interest me. As you wander along the
muddy shore in autumn, you are certain to meet with this
charming little species — there is not a bit of mudflat or sandy
marsh round our coasts that does not contain Dunlins in
more or less abundance from September till the following
spring. They are by no means shy, and often search for their
food and run about the sand and mud a few yards from where
you are standing. The larger the flock, however, the more
wary they seem to become, and at the least alarm the entire
mass of birds rise simultaneously, just like Starlings, and hurry
away across the sea, or along the marshes to a place of greater
safety. The Dunlin's aerial movements at this time of year
are very beautiful and interesting. Moved as with a common
impulse, the immense flock of birds rise from the black mud,
and rise and fall and manoeuvre with wonderful precision.
As they turn, their wdngs gleam like a dull silver cloud in the

THE DUNLIN

log

sun ; and ever and anon the flock seems to vanish and aj^pear
again as the dark or light part of their plumage is turned
towards you. Sometimes they spread out like a net, perhaps
ten thousand strong, then close up again into a dense black-
looking mass, rising for some distance and swooping to the
ground with great velocity, or perhaps skimming just above
the mud for a hundred yards or more before alighting with
the same startling precision and regularity of movement.

What will strike the observer as rather extraordinary is
the quietness which attends all these movements. Except at
the breeding grounds the Dunlin is a remarkably silent bird,
and rarely utters a sound. When feeding, the entire flock of
birds scatter themselves far and wide over the mud, each
seeming to pursue an independent course ; but when alarmed
they quickly close together as they rise. Its food when living
on the mudflats and marshy coasts is sand- worms, small mol-
lusks, shrimps, and other minute inhabitants of the shallow
water and slimy mud ; but in summer it is almost exclusively
composed of insects and their larvae, especially water-beetles
and the larvae of the drake fly. The Dunlin also eats quan-
tities of moorland fruits, and I have taken various vegetable
fragments from its stomach. A favourite feeding ground of
the Dunlin in winter is on the slimy banks of tidal rivers,
and in the marshy backwaters of the low-lying coasts. I have
seen single birds of this species running about on the dense
weeds in these stagnant pools, and often meet with it here
and there in the deep drains which spread out like a net over
the wide expanse of mudflat. When thus met with singly
these Dunlins are remarkably tame ; and on one occasion I
remember actually taking one up in my hand without it
making any effort to escape.

The Dunlins quit the coast by the end of April. In early
May, when the first blushes of spring are creeping over the
mountain wastes, they are back again at their breeding-places,

14

OUR RARER BIRDS

althougli it is seldom much use to look for tlieir eggs before
the end of that mouth. The Dunlin enlivens the moors with
its cheerful little note, which somewhat resembles the call of
the Yellow Bunting or the Greenfinch ; and ever and anon
the males flutter up into the ah' and descend on motionless
wing and expanded tail, uttering a pleasant trilling sound.
This pretty little bird is now much more gay in plumage,
having assumed nearly black lower parts, and bright chestnut
and black on the head and back. It is also worthy of remark
that the female is slightly larger than the male. The nest is
always well and artfully concealed on the moor, perhaps by
the side of the clear pool amongst the rushes, or under a tuft
of heath or bilberry, or behind a dense mass of cotton grass.
The nest is a hollow, lined with a few dry bits of the
surrounding vegetation; and the eggs are always four in
number. They are greenish or brownish buff in ground
colour, boldly spotted and blotched with dark reddish-brown
and pale grayish-brown. The usual type of egg is most
thickly marked at the larger end, but sometimes we see them
with the spots evenly distributed over the entire surface.
The sitting-bird leaves the nest at the least alarm, leaving the
eggs to the safety of their own protective tints. Even during
the breeding season I often meet with the Dunlin on the coast
perhaps some considerable distance from its breeding grounds.
Parties of males and females often meet together on the
shore at this season, and retire each to their own particular
haunt as soon as their wants are satisfied. Dunlins only rear
one brood in the season.

Another rare little bird is still to be met with in a few
chosen localities in the most secluded parts of the upland
wilds. This is the Eed-necked Phalarope, a species which is
readily distinguished from all the other little Sandpipers by
its singularly -shaped feet, which are provided with lobes
almost like those on the feet of a Coot. The surprising tame-

THE PHALAROPE 211

ness and trustfulness of its disposition have been the cause of
its extinction from many a mountain haunt ; and if the per-
secution does not soon be stayed, this, one of the most charming
of British birds, will become extinct in our islands. In many
of its actions this pretty little bird resembles a Moorhen.
Like that bird it runs about the banks of the sedg}^ pools,
incessantly bobbing its head up and down, and on the water
it swims with similar motion. The Eed-necked Phalarope
is as much at home in the deep clear pools as on the land,
and spends much of its time swimming about, occasionally
snapping at passing insects, or exploring all the vegetation
round the margin in search of food. It is absurdly tame, and
often allows you to watch its every action within a few paces.
It is a very sociable bird, and many nests may be found in
quite a small area of the swamps.

The Eed-necked Phalarope arrives at its breeding grounds
early in May, and soon afterwards its slight nest is arranged.
It loves to frequent for this purpose wide expanses of marshy
moor in which there are many clear pools surrounded with
rush and sedge and coarse grass. The nest is rarely built
very far from the water, and is usually well concealed amongst
the herbage, which often hangs quite over it. It is merely a
hollow scratched out in the ground and lined with a few bits
of dead grass and rush. In this the female lays four buffish-
brown eggs, blotched and spotted with dark blackish-brown
and paler markings of gray. One of the most interesting
facts connected with the nesting economy of the Eed-necked
Phalarope is, that the male bird hatches the eggs and assists
the most in bringing the young chicks to maturity. All
effects in ISTature have a cause, although we may not perhaps
be able to connect one with the other ; but in this case the
reason why the female resigns her usual duty to her mate is
because she is much more brightly coloured, and would thus
be more likely to attract enemies to her helpless charge.

OUR RARER BIRDS

The parent birds show little concern for their nests when
an intruder visits them. Quietly swimming about in the
sedgy pools, or running along the marshy banks, they now
and then utter a feeble iveet-ioeet of mild remonstrance. As
is the case with the Dunlin, they are remarkably social during
the breeding season, and numbers gather on the favourite
ponds from the nests which are scattered up and down the
higher and dryer ground. The food of this bird is composed
largely of beetles and the larvae of various water insects. The
bird also probes the soft mud with its slender-pointed bill for
worms, and is an adept at catching flies. The Eed-necked
Phalarope is not often seen on the wing ; it spends by far the
greater portion of its time in the water, where it floats as
buoyantly as a cork or a bit of paper ; but when flushed it is
capable of flying very rapidly, and has no small command
over itself in the air. When the young are safely reared and
autumn is at hand, the Phalaropes forsake their moorland
haunt and wander southwards to their winter quarters in
warmer and more ^renial lands.

THE WOODCOCK

(Scolojmx rusticola)

Perhaps no species of AYader is better known by name than
the Woodcock, yet how few^ persons are acquainted with this
shy bird's habits and economy. It may justly rank with our
rarer birds, and though widely dispersed during the winter
months, in summer it is exceedingly local, and its habits are
known to none but the most observant field naturalist. The
Woodcock resides in our islands throughout the year, but it
is one of those species that changes its ground very capriciously,
and is far more numerous and widely dispersed in winter
than in summer. In the balmy autumn days great flights of
this beautiful bird come from across the sea and arrive on our
eastern shores, from which they gradually disperse over the
inland woods and plantations. I have several times been on
the low-lying coasts, watching the ways and doings of my

214 OUR RARER BIRDS

feathered friends on marsh and mudflat, when the Woodcock
has made its appearance. Woodcocks migrate by night, and
usually at a great height in the sky, dropping suddenly down
when they reach the ground, so that they are rarely taken in
the flight-nets. Over night not a bird is to be found ; but by
the first streak of dawn, should you chance to wander along
by the sea. Woodcocks may keep springing up from your
feet — tired-out birds, glad to nestle among the long grass and
in the bottoms of the hedges, to recruit their failing strength
ere passing on to more suitable haunts. The birds rarely stay
more than a day here — the next night they are off to the
woods and the marshy hollows in the plantations and quiet
corners of the fields, which they frequent for the remainder
of the season. Nut-brown October is the Woodcock's favourite
month for migration — a month that paints the vegetation of
wood and field and copse in tints every bit as brown and
as beautiful as the bird's own charming dress. The Wood-
cock loves to hide himself amongst the crumpled dark brown
leaves, where his plumage is in strict harmony with sur-
rounding tints, and shields him effectually from the prying
eyes of his enemies.

At all times the Woodcock is a shy skulking bird, remain-
ing close in his retreat until flushed, when he rises suddenly,
often uttering a harsh guttural croak, and flies off in singular
erratic course through the trees. It is rather surprising how
cleverly the bird manages to thread his way through the net-
work of fine' branches and past the numerous tree-trunks.
He does not fly far as a rule, and drops into the first suitable
cover he can find, alighting suddenly, and usually crouching
close the moment he touches the ground. His flight is quick
but somewhat laboured, because his body is so plump and
heavy, and he carries his long bill and head bent downwards.
The Woodcock's activity begins with the twilight. His large
prominent eye denotes him to be a night feeder, and as the

THE WOODCOCK 215

dusk spreads over the woods and the shadows deepen under
the trees, he rises from his warm corner amongst the long
grass and dead leaves, and flies slowly off to his feeding
grounds. Sometimes these are a considerable distance from
his day retreat ; at other times he cowers amongst the herbage
by the side of the stream or swamp in wdiich he feeds. On
the bright moonlight nights you may perchance be fortunate
enough to see him wandering about in the open searching for
w^orms, probing the ground wdth his long beak. He looks
unusually large in the uncertain light, and appears to be
intently listening every few moments, as if constantly on the
alert for danger. He w^alks about or runs along the pond-
side in Snipe-like style, and as his appetite is large he is very
easer in his search for food. Earth-worms are the Wood-
cock's favourite and almost exclusive food, but the bird also
eats beetles and other insects.

Few^ birds are more solitary in their habits than the
Woodcock. It is perhaps most sociable during the periods
of migration, but then its gatherings are greatly influenced by
a common purpose, and as soon as the journey is over each
bird seems to set off to its own particular haunt. One is apt
to feel perplexed at the solitary habits of the Snipes wdien
w^e know their relations, the Sandpipers and Plovers, are so
gregarious ; but doubtless their conspicuous plumage in the
open and, consequently, their skulking habits are the cause.
It is a curious fact that the Snipes and the Woodcocks never
change the colour of their plumage in winter, from the
beautiful brown and yellow dress of summer to one of grayer
tints, as the Sandpipers and most of the Plovers do. But w^e
know that these Snipes never change the character of their
haunt ; they ahvays live amongst dense vegetation, wdiere
their brown mottled dress is least conspicuous. They never
visit the muddy coasts or shining sands, because there their
plumage would readily betray them to enemies. When the

2i6 OUR RARER BIRDS

Sandpipers and upland Plovers assume their nuptial orna-
ment, we also find that they change their haunts accordingly,
and then frequent moors and marshes, where their showy
dress is least conspicuous.

The Woodcock breeds early ; and the habits of the male
birds during the pairing season undergo a most extraordinary
change. They cease their skulking habits, and in early
morning and in the evening's dusk fly up and down the open
spaces in the woods, or along the drives and keepers' paths,
or even in the fields close to the woods and plantations. Up
and down, to and fro, he flies, uttering a peculiar whirring
note, which is most probably equivalent to the drumming of
the Snipe, and uttered for a similar object — namely, to charm
and to win the female. At this season the male Woodcock
is also very pugnacious, and combats between rival birds often
take place. Early in April the paii^s of Woodcocks seek out
their nesting-places. In some dry quiet corner of the wood
or plantation, amongst the tall withered bracken, or at the
foot of a tree, where the dead autumn leaves have drifted, the
nest is made. It is a small depression, rather carefully
and smoothly lined with dry leaves and bits of grass and
fern. Like those of the Snipe, the eggs of the Woodcock are
always four in number when the full complement is laid.
They are buffish-brown, or pale yellowish-brown in ground
colour, spotted and blotched with reddish and grayish brown,
principally on the larger end. Eggs of the Woodcock are
somewhat conspicuous objects, so that we find the sitting-bird
keeps close upon them, and shields them with her own
beautifully protective dress, until she is almost trod upon and
forced reluctantly to leave them. When you know the where-
abouts of her nest, it is easy to steal softly towards it and
observe how closely her mottled russet -brown plumage
harmonises with the rich brown tints of last year's bracken
and the dead oak leaves. I have never known the Woodcock

THE WOODCOCK 217

cover her eggs when she left them voluntarily, but I think
that such is very probably the case. But one bird is ever
seen near the nest, and once flushed the female generally
hurries off and hides herself amongst the trees, never dis-
playing any of those anxious feelings some of the Sandpipers
always express under similar circumstances.

The Woodcock's movements in this country are somewhat
perplexing to the naturalist. Many observers are inclined to
think that the birds which breed in our British woods leave
this country for more southern haunts in autumn, returning
in spring ; and that the birds we meet in winter are migrants
from more northern regions, which just as surely desert this
country in spring. There can be no doubt, however, that our
breeding Woodcocks are residents, and that the reason they
are so seldom met with in the late summer and early autumn
months is because these skulking birds have become more
skulking still while they undergo their annual change of dress.
The woods at these times are little frequented by man ;
the shooting season has not commenced ; and the shy w^ary
birds keep well out of sight, as most other species do when
moulting. The Woodcock only rears one brood in the season,
and both parents assist in rearing the young, which are some-
times carried by them between their legs from place to place
where food is plentiful.

The flesh of the Woodcock is highly prized for food ; no
greater delicacy is to be found amongst all our game birds
and wild-fowl. It is therefore a bird highly and justly
esteemed by sportsmen. How quickly the plump long-billed
bird flies for his life through the brown autumn woods, or
amongst the snow-clad trees in winter, his appearance being
the signal for the lusty shouts of " mark cock " from the line
of advancing beaters. A beater I knew, who was in the
habit of occasionally attending the late Duke of Portland
through the charmin" woodlands of the " Dukeries " at Sher-

2i8 OUR RARER BIRDS

wood Forest — a district where the Woodcock is extremely
common — would always persist in calling these birds
" Wooden-Cocks." Poor " Jim's " ashes are mouldering in the
dust, yet his " Mark, my Lord — a Wooden-Cock " is still a
standing joke at many a convivial gathering.

Formerly the Ruff {Machetes pugnaoo) was a fairly common
bird during the breeding season in all the marshy districts
of England suited to its requirements ; drainage and modern
improvements have driven it from its ancient homes, and now
only a scattered pair or so remain behind to breed on the
Norfolk broads. The Ruff arrives late in spring, and is best
known as a bird on migration along the British coasts. The
Ruff is specially interesting to the naturalist owing to its
polygamous habits, and the great diversity and eccentricity
of its plumage. For a month after the arrival of this species
at its breeding grounds, incessant combats are being fought
between pugnacious males for the possession of the females —
regular meeting-places or " hills " being used for these singular
tournaments. As soon as the Ruff's numerous females have
laid their eggs he takes no further interest in his mates, and,
like the cock Pheasant, leaves them to bring up their broods
alone. The nest is a slight one, made of bits of withered
herbage, in a dry spot amongst the wet marsh ; and the eggs,
four in number, are greenish -gray in colour, spotted and
blotched with reddish-brown and gray. The food of the Ruff
consists of worms, insects, and mollusks, which the bird pre-
fers to seek in the marshes rather than on the coast.

THE CUELEW

(Numenius arquatus)

There is not perhaps another science which leads its votaries
into so many varied scenes as that of Ornithology. The bird is
everywhere, ^o desert is too arid, no ice-bound region too cold,
nor sunny land too warm, for bird-life. Even the ornithologist
who studies the birds of our native land alone will be led into
the most diversified scenes whilst pursuing his researches, and
experience those indescribable feelings of enthusiasm and
excitement only known to the field naturalist. Now he is
wandering over the trackless moors in quest of Grouse or
Merlins. Alone he may be on those heathery wastes, but
his thoughts are so intent upon the object of his visit that he
knows not that sense of loneliness which the wilds ever inspire
in him who has no taste for jSTature or her works. Anon he
is in the coppices or the fir woods, where the bold and wary
Sparrow-hawks, the crafty Pies, and the gentle Doves, nestle
in company with the tiny Goldcrests. ]!^ow he roams over
the tide-washed flats, and the hordes of wild-fowl greet him
with their varied and expressive cries ; or he seeks the rock-
bound coast where the Guillemot, the Eazorbill, the Kitti-
wake, and the Peregrine breed in the beetling cliffs. While
yet again the shady forest teems with bird-life, and his
wanderings there are enlivened by the notes of birds whose
inherent timidity keeps them to these leafy solitudes. No
matter where the observer may stray, bird-life in all its ever-

220 OUR RARER BIRDS

varying phases glances panorama -like before his admiring
gaze. Alone in Nature's sanctuaries, with these fair ornaments
of field and shore, he feels not the absence of his kindred.
The science of his choice absorbs him with ever-increasing
interest, and inspires him with feelings he never knew before.
Reader, pardon these few random musings on the breezy
rain- washed moor ; the shower has passed ; we will now busy
ourselves with the habits and economy of the wild and wary
Curlew.

Like most of our wading birds, the Curlew changes its
haunts at certain seasons of the year, and is also a partially
migratory species. But it is very probable that the birds
which nest in this country are residents, the migrants being
birds which breed in northern regions, and are compelled to
journey south when the sun quits their arctic haunts and the
long polar night begins. In summer the Curlew's haunts in
our country are the moors and upland wastes ; and the fiat
marshy shores and estuaries are its chosen retreat in winter.
Let us make our first acquaintance with him on the moor-
lands. The vernal season is expanding in all its lovely fresh-
ness. The Skylark is pouring forth his tuneful melody, and
the Song Thrush and Blackcap are warbling from the copse.
But we must leave such sylvan birds ; our quarry is higher
up the hillsides, on the bleak moors and rough mountain
wastes. On the threshold of the moor the Lapwing anxiously
beats over the rough pastures, uttering her melancholy wail
as we invade her nesting ground ; the Stonechats flit amongst
the gorse ; and on the wild moor the Twite sits on the heather
tufts, ever and anon calling its name to the wilderness.
Perched on a rocky boulder, the Eing Ouzel sits and pipes
his mountain song ; and the whistle of the Golden Plover,
alarmed at our approach, and the harsh go-hac-lac-bac of the
Eed Grouse, herald our entry upon the upland wastes. We
stroll expectant over them, but the ever- watchful Curlews are

THE CURLEW 221

prepared for us. One by one the dark- coloured birds rise
from the marshy heath and fly anxiously about, uttering their
peculiar note : mrlee, cur-lee sounds in all directions, and the
startled birds watch our actions from the sky with ever-in-
creasing anxiety. Like the Snipe, the Curlew performs those
various graceful evolutions high in air, usually when its
haunts are invaded. But what are the Curlews doing here ?
Why have they left the lowland pastures and littoral haunts
for such scenes as these ? The one great object of their visit
here is to rear their young in a suitable temperature, where
the food supply is ample, and where they may obtain that
seclusion and immunity from danger which their shy and
wary nature demands. Search closely among the heath and
coarse vegetation of the moor, and you will most probably be
rewarded by a sight of their nest and eggs. Your attention
must be confined to the extensive swampy flats, where bogs,
reeds, and rushes are abundant, occasionally studded with
heathy tracts of dryer ground.

We can scarcely class the Curlew as a gregarious bird
durincr the breeding: season, but still it is to a certain extent
a social one, and numbers of their nests may be found
scattered up and down the same reedy wastes. Curlews pair
annually, sometimes before they quit their winter quarters,
and sometimes not until they arrive at their breeding grounds.
The Curlew's nest may be sought by the middle or latter end
of April, though not unfrequently the birds do not commence
breeding till early May should the weather be stormy. The
nest is usually placed on some little patch of dry land, where
its scanty materials serve their small purpose. It will some-
times be placed on a thick tuft of bog grass, at others under
the shelter of a heather bush or clump of herbage, and is
almost invariably on some little eminence. More rarely the
eggs are deposited in the scantiest apology for a nest on the
ploughed fields— the " summer fallows " on the borders of the

OUR RARER BIRDS

bird's usual haunts. In such situations I have known them
to be broken by the harrows, or trod under foot by the cattle
and sheep grazing on the rough herbage. The Curlew's nest
is slight, and in some cases is dispensed with altogether. Its
materials consist of a few bits of herbage carelessly arranged
in a small cavity, either scraped out by the bird, or selected
ready-made for the purpose.

The eggs of the Curlew are very large for the size of the
bird. Comparatively large eggs, be it known, is the rule with
this order of birds (Waders); but with the Curlew, and
perhaps its cousin, the Whimbrel, they are exceptionally so.
They are four in number ; sometimes five are found, but it is
extremely probable that the odd egg is the produce of another
female, or one from another nest placed there by some mis-
chievous cowboy or shepherd. The eggs in this order of
birds are always four in number, and to credit the Curlew
with jive would make it quite exceptional to all the nearly
allied species. In form some specimens are much more
elono-ated than others, but as a rule the colour variation is
small. They are yellowish-green in ground colour, spotted
and blotched with dark yellowish-brown and olive-green, and
occasionally streaked on the large end with deep brown.
Both birds assist in incubating the eggs, and but one brood is
reared in the year. Should the eggs be taken, however,
others will be laid — as a proof of which witness the broods
of this bird which are to be seen as late as the end of July.

Tliroughout the breeding season the Curlew is a noisy
bird, and accompanies the wanderer over its breeding grounds
high in air, usually at a safe distance. Few sounds add more
to the grand impressiveness of the uplands than the Curlew's
mournful cry ; and we have not a bird whose wild notes lend
so much life to the dreary sameness of the mountain wilder-
ness. As is usual with species Avliose eggs are eminently
protective in colour, the sitting-bird quits the nest the instant

THE CURLEW

danger threatens, and I do not fiod it ever display those
peculiar alluring motions which are so common among the
smaller waders. Young Curlews, as is the case with all the
birds of this order, are able to run about almost directly after
they are hatched. Engaging little creatures they are, and
most grotescjue in appearance. They are clotlied in down of
yellowish-brown, mottled and spotted on the upper parts with
darker brown, and their beak is short and straight. Like
young Lapwings, at the approach of danger they crouch close
to the earth, where the harmony of their colour with that of
surrounding vegetation effectually conceals them. At this
time the parent birds become much more venturesome, and
lose much of their habitual wariness. They often fly round
and round your head calling wildly, or run along the ground
with wings half spread, or stand quite motionless on a little
hillock carefully watching your every movement.

So soon as the autumnal tints creep over the moorlands,
when the heather flowers are beginning to fade, and the Eing
Ouzels take their departure for a. southern haunt, the Curlews
gather into little parties and repair to the coasts. Xow the
Curlew becomes a gregarious species indeed, and not only
keeps company with its own kind, but mixes with the vast
hordes of wild-fowl which haunt the coast during autumn
and winter. The Curlew at this season is more shy and
wild than ever. He is indeed the sentinel of the coast, ever
on the alert, his loud curlee-curlee as he launches into the air
giving the alarm to the other wild-fowl feeding near, and
putting every bird within hearing on the look-out. As soon
as the receding waters leave the mud-banks exposed, the
Curlews repair to them to feed. At high water they usually
visit the meadows and open lands near the ocean, preferring,
if a choice is obtainable, the marshy grounds. On the coast
they usually feed near the tide, following each receding wave,
and occasionally wading some distance into the water. If

224 OUR RARER BIRDS

disturbed they often run forward with expanded wings for a
few yards, then rise into the air and fly away, the flock
usually assuming the form of a wedge. Perhaps they go for
half a mile or more across the sea, or settle on some low
muddy island. The low-lying coast of Lincolnshire between
Skegness and the Wash is a favourite haunt of these birds,
and their wild notes are the commonest we hear sounding
over the seemingly interminable wastes of sand and mud.
The Curlew in smaller numbers also frequents the rocky
coasts if the beach is uncovered at low water. I have seen
them pretty numerous near the little fishing village of
Flamborough, during the time of high water frequenting the
neighbouring pastures, where a few Whimbrels might generally
be seen in their company. At night time too the Curlews
are particularly lively birds, and I often listen to their wild
mournful note, now loud and shrill, anon faint and musical,
when they are my only company. To a stranger this note
would sound alarming indeed, and I can well understand the
Highlander's dislike to these birds — an antipathy so great as
to cause him to remember the Curlew in his prayers, and seek
expressly to be saved from "all lang-nebbit things." Yet
the man must have no poetry in his soul who cannot
listen to the w^ail of the Curlew with feelings of delight, be
it heard on the lonely moor at dusk, or on the tide-washed
flats when the moon is tipping the crests of the waves with
silver sheen, and the night wind brings it from all quarters
of the sky.

The food of the Curlew differs slightly, according to the
haunt which the birds frequent. In summer on the moor-
lands insects and worms are the bird's chief food, together
with snails, much as is the case with the Snipe — its long beak
being used to probe into the soft soil of the bogs and marshes
and sands. I have known the Curlew feed at this season on
eround fruits and the tender shoots of herbage. On the

THE CURLEW 225

coast in winter its diet is varied with small crabs, mollusks,
sand- worms, and insects. It is now exceedingly fat, and is
held in high estimation for the table.

Very similar to the Curiew, both in its habits and appear-
ance, the Whimbrel {Numenius x>^iceo2ms) is a much rarer
and more local bird. It is characterised by its smaller size,
and the top of the head is dark brown, in strong contrast to
the pale eye-stripes and mesial line. It is most numerous in
spring and autumn, when great numbers pass along our coasts
to and from the north ; but a few remain behind all winter on
the mudflats — probably the birds that have bred on the
Scottish moors. In its food, habits, notes, and economy
generally, it does not differ much from the Curiew. In
summer I have seen small bunches of these birds feeding on
the shore, and noticed that at all times they are not quite so
shy as their larger congener. The Whimbrel breeds on the
moors near the sea. Its nest is a little hollow under a bush
or grass tuft, neatly lined with dry grass, and the eggs are
four in number. They resemble those of the Curiew in almost
every respect, but are smaller. Whimbrels migrate in laro-e

o o

flocks, and I have often seen them on the salt-marshes and
pastures near the sea in company with Curlews and some-
times with Knots.

15

THE COMMON TEEN AND AECTIC TEEN

{Sterna hirundo and S. arctica)

In spite of the dissimilarity of their appearance, the Terns

and Gulls are closely related to the Plovers and Sandpipers,

being probably the most highly specialised forms of the

great natural group which comprises the Plovers, the

Auks, the Petrels, the Cranes, the Bustards, and the Eails.

The Terns rank among the most graceful of birds, and are

indeed charming ornaments to the wild shore and the restless

sea. They not only frequent the coast, but may often be met

with considerable distances inland, and some species even

prefer the marshes to the shore. The Common Tern is by no

means so abundant or so widely distributed as its name seems

to imply. It is a bird of passage to this country, arriving

late in spring, and departing southwards in autumn to the

seas round sultry Africa. If the weather is fine and the

season a moderately early one, the Common Tern arrives at

its usual summer haunts by the end of April, but in backward

years not until early May. In most places where the shore

is suited to its needs the Common Tern may be found. It

loves the various groups of low islands and ocean rocks that

occur so frequently round our northern coasts, and it never

makes its colony on the mainland if an island can be had

instead. Terns are birds of the air and justly deserve their

name of " sea swallows." Upon the ground they are awkward,

and they seldom attempt to walk, because, like the Swallows,

THE COMMON TERN 227

their tarsus is very short ; but they often alight on the sea,
where they swim very buoyantly. Sometimes a flock of
Common Terns settle on a rock some distance from shore,
and they almost invariably choose an island of some sort on
which to sleep at night.

The wild seashore can offer few prettier sights than a
flock of these charming little birds busy in search of food.
Very often they feed close inshore, especially where the
beach is rocky and the water moderately deep. A shoal of
fry is moving slowly along at the surface of the water ; you
may see the dark mass from shore, as the millions of tiny fish
gambol and swim about, and you may trace the movements
of the shoal by the actions of the Terns. In slow graceful
flight they hover above the fry, and first one and then another
drop down into the water, just like Gannets, and secure a fish,
sitting on the surface until they have swallowed it. Some-
times they dart rapidly down, and, fluttering over the sea with
legs and feet extended, seize a fish floating near the surface ;
and birds are constantly alighting on the water to rest a moment
or preen their beautiful plumage. The flight of this Tern is
exceedingly graceful, slow and regular, but often full of rapid
twists and aerial gambols, especially when two birds buffet or
toy with each other in mid-air. For miles these beautiful
little birds follow the shoals of fish, and they often make their
appearance amongst the fleet of fishing boats, feeding on
the small fish which are thrown away when the nets are
drawn.

Terns are not very noisy birds, except at their breeding-
places. When fishing you may hear them utter an occasional
'krick or hree-ick, but they seem too intent on their labours to
converse. The food of the Common Tern is principally com-
posed of small fish, especially fry. I have known them catch
sand eels, and now and then an insect or a crustacean is
secured, especially as the birds sit or rather lie on the beach

228 OUR RARER BIRDS

or rocks. They feed greedily, and often retire to some safe
place to rest and digest their meal.

The Common Tern is perhaps the most interesting at its
breeding-place. It gathers into colonies for this purj^ose, and
some of these are very large, consisting of thousands of birds.
I have visited many nesting-places of the Common Tern on
low rocks and small uninhabited islets, and less frequently
taken its eggs from the secluded beach of the mainland ; but
undoubtedly the most interesting colony is on the Feme
Islands — that grand " Hotel de ville " of British sea-fowl.
How can words be found to paint the bewitching scene ?
What pen can reproduce on paper the life and animation of a
colony of Terns ? As their island home is approached, the
noise of the oars in the rowlocks startle numbers of Terns
from the beach or the little rock pools where they were
swimming quietly about. These fairy-like sentinels approach
and flutter restlessly above us ; and as we land Terns may be
seen rising in dozens and scores from all parts of the island.
The scene now becomes excitingly beautiful — a snowstorm on
this bright midsummer day, when the sun is beating fiercely
down from a dark blue and cloudless sky. The air is densely
thronged with fluttering birds, and their loud wild screams
increase the impressiveness of the scene. Here and there,
amongst the luxuriant growth of sea-campion, the birds have
made their nests, but these are only the suburbs of the grand
Tern metropolis. Near the centre of the island the vegetation
is absent, and a bare patch of shingly ground extends for some
distance. This bare ground is so thickly strewn with eggs
that it is almost impossible to walk about without breaking
them. Everywhere the eye may chance to wander it discovers
a Tern's nest. These are little more than hollows in the
ground, lined with a few bits of dry grass and withered stalks
of the sea-campion. On approaching this city of Tern's nests
the birds become more clamorous, and some of the most

THE ARTIC TERN 229

venturesome birds swoop closely round our head. The ex-
citement and noise is kept up until we finally reach the shore
again and push off to sea ; but long afterwards we can observe
the troubled birds hovering above their nests, and their cries
come gently down the wind. Sometimes the nests are made
near the water's edge ; and I have occasionally seen the eggs
lying on the bare rocks with only a few bits of grass and
withered seaweed round them. I am of opinion that the
Common Tern usually makes a nest, and breeds much farther
from the beach than the Arctic Tern generally does.

The eggs of the Common Tern are two or three in number,
and vary from buff to grayish-brown in ground colour, spotted
and blotched with dark brown and pale gray. They vary
considerably in size and markings. Some eggs are very
handsomely blotched ; others are only sparingly marked, and
very often the spots form a zone round the larger end. The
Common Tern only rears one brood in the season, and both
parents assist in bringing up the young, which are covered
with down and able to run and swim shortly after they are
hatched. The young are fed on shrimps and various small
marine animals ; as they get older they take to small fish,
which the old birds are most assiduous in catching for them.
In autumn, when the young are strong upon the wing, the
Common Tern unites into enormous flocks, which gradually
wander southwards to warmer seas, flying leisurely along,
often staying a few days here and there where food chances
to be plentiful.

The Arctic Tern is by far the commonest of its family in
this country, and is very widely dispersed, especially in the
more northern districts. Like its congener, the Common Tern,
it arrives here late in April or early in May, and frequents
much the same localities. It is just as gregarious, perhaps
more so than its congener, and its slenderer form and propor-
tionately longer wings and tail make it even more elegant

230 OUR RARER BIRDS

looking when in the air. You may often watch this charming
little bird fishing along the shore, perhaps a hundred yards
from the beach. It catches its food by pouncing down like
a Gannet, or sometimes when fluttering above the restless
waves. I have seen a party of these birds fishing along the
shores of a quiet northern loch, when the fall of their bodies
in the still water could be heard half a mile away. None of
the Terns ever dive for food — they are too light and buoyant
to do so, and have to swoop down from a considerable height
to give themselves sufficient impetus to sink even a little way
under the surface, where they seize their finny prey. I once
saw a party of these birds clustered thickly over the timbers
of an old wreck, from which they repeatedly started to catch
the passing fish. The food of this pretty little bird does not
differ from that of its congener above treated with ; but I
think it shows more preference for crustaceans.

The breeding season of the Arctic Tern begins in June.
The sun has then attained considerable power, and its rays
largely assist in hatching the eggs of this and other species of
Tern. The Arctic Tern breeds in colonies, some of them very
large and covering acres of ground, but others are small and
only consist of a dozen pairs or so. I have taken its eggs
in many situations, especially on the rocky islands in the
northern lochs and amongst the wild Hebrides. In some
parts of this latter group of islands almost every little islet
contains a colony. The Feme Islands, too, are a great
breeding-place of the Arctic Tern. To my observation this
bird lays its eggs much nearer to the water than the other
Terns ; and how some of them escape being washed away is
always a mystery to me. At these latter islands I have seen
the eggs within a few inches of the water, and laid on drifted
seaweed just above the tide-mark. I also observed here that
the birds often change the locality of their colony year by
year, breeding in certain chosen spots in succession. The

THE ARTIC TERN 231

Arctic Tern differs from the Common Tern in its nesting
economy, inasmuch that it never makes a nest. The eggs
are laid on the bare beach, sometimes where a little sand has
collected between the stones, or on drifted seaweed, or amongst
the shingle above high-water mark. They are two or three
in number, a little smaller than those of the preceding species,
and rather more green in general appearance. They are much
more elongated than those of the Common Tern. During
the hot days the birds do not sit much on their eggs, but
there are always plenty of birds at liome ready to rise scream-
ing in the air if their colony is invaded. Many eggs are
laid close together ; in some cases they so thickly cover the
ground that it is impossible to walk without breaking them.
The eggs of both these Terns are most protectively coloured,
and harmonise very closely with surrounding objects.

The Arctic Tern is a bird of summer, and wanders south-
wards with the sun. Flock after flock slowly wend their way
to warmer seas at autumn's approach. They migrate slowly,
and often stay a day or two in places where food is abundant,
attending the fishing fleets, or entering bays and creeks in
their southern progress.

THE SANDWICH TERN AND LESSER TERN

(Sterna cantiaca and *S'. minuta)

The beautiful Sandwich Tern is the largest of its order that
visits our islands regularly in early summer. Its haunts are
few and far between, and, sad to say, the bird has disappeared
for ever from many localities where it used formerly to breed
in abundance. In this country now its grand headquarters
are at the Feme Islands, and there we will stray to observe
the habits of this interesting species. Like all its congeners
it is a migrant, and arrives here from the African coasts by
the end of April, although its breeding season does not begin
before the end of May or early in June. It is a very
gregarious bird, and not only associates with its own -kind,
but with most other Terns. When disturbed, the big Sand-
wich Terns look very conspicuous amongst their smaller
congeners.

THE SANDWICH TERN 233

At the Feme Islands the birds are very regular in their
appearance, and upon their first arrival they only stay near
the islands an hour or so each morning, until the serious
business of the year commences. In this respect they put
the observer very much in mind of Eooks. Unfortunately
the Sandwich Tern has become much scarcer at its old
familiar breeding-]3laces — its eggs have been wantonly
gathered in wholesale numbers by every tourist and sight-
seer, and in some years its colony has been entirely destroyed
by high tides. Notwithstanding these misfortunes there is
still a very important colony of Sandwich Terns at the
islands, and every lover of bird-life will join in the desire of
seeing them increase and prosper. Upon my last visit to the
Feme Islands the birds had just lost all their eggs by a high
tide, and the pretty shells strewed the beach in great numbers.
The poor birds w^ere disconsolately flying over the ruins, and
displayed very little anxiety at my presence. Some of the
more enterprising birds, however, had commenced laying
again on a distant part of the island, and a little branch
colony was established on the neighbouring islet.

On a previous visit, however, I was much more fortunate,
and had ample opportunities of observing this graceful bird's
nesting economy. As w^e rowed to the grassy island on
which the colony of birds had established themselves, the
Arctic Terns were the first to take wing. We passed a
colony of this bird on the beach and wandered towards the
centre of the island, where the Sandwich Terns were sailing
anxiously about the air uttering their loud shrill screams.
This time they had laid their eggs much farther from the
shore, on the summit of a little bare plateau. On our way to
the main colony we passed numbers of nests in the short
grass and sea-campion, but the great centre of attraction was
the bare patch of ground, on which there must have been
hundreds and hundreds of nests, some of them not being more

234 OUR RARER BIRDS

than a foot apart. Long before we got to this oological
El Dorado every bird had taken wing, and the entire colony
was sailing and fluttering and screaming high in air above
our heads. Very white they looked against the dark blue
sky, and their black head-caps showed conspicuously against
their gray upper plumage. Many birds hovered like Kestrels
just above our heads, and now and then several would swoop
almost to the ground and rise again as suddenly. The whole
time we lingered near this fascinating spot, the birds kept in
motion, nor did they finally settle down till long after we had
left their island home.

The Sandwich Tern makes very little nest — merely a
hollow in which a few bits of withered herbage and dry sea-
weed are collected; and in some cases nests are entirely
dispensed with, when the eggs are laid on the shingly beach.
The eggs very closely resemble the ground on which they lie.
They are tw^o or tliree in number, and vary considerably in
shape and coloration. Eggs of this Tern rank amongst the
most beautiful objects a well-filled egg cabinet can display.
They vary in ground colour from white to buff, spotted and
blotched with dark brown and violet-gray. Many eggs are
very boldly marked indeed, the entire colouring matter being
collected in one or two large splashes. Others are spotted
evenly over the entire surface, and some are streaked and
clouded with colour in a most remarkable manner. I know
of no other eggs which are more handsomely marked than
those of the Sandwich Tern. But one brood is reared in the
year, although, if the first lot of eggs is destroyed, others are
invariably laid after the lapse of a week or so. Both birds
assist in hatchim^ the efygs.

The Sandwich Tern does not wander far from home during
the breeding season, and obtains most of its food from the
water in the immediate neighbourhood of its nest. It obtains
its food when flying over the sea, dropping down into the

THE LESSER TERN

water upon the small fish that swim near the surface. The
food of this bird is largely composed of fish, and this fare is
varied with crustaceans and other small marine animals.
From observation I am able to state that the young are fed
largely on sand lice, and even on beetles. In autumn this
fine Tern congregates into large flocks, and young and old
wing their way southwards to seas bathed in perpetual
summer.

As the Sandwich Tern is the largest, so is the Lesser Tern
the smallest of the Terns that come regularly to this country
in spring to breed. This delicate little bird cannot be said
to be anywhere very common, and its breeding-places are
local. Probably, before the railway joined the busy centres
of industry with the quiet fishing- villages, the Lesser Tern
was an abundant species, and bred on most parts of the coast
suited to its needs — now, alas ! it has become one of the rarest
of our sea-birds. I know of no place along the hundreds of
miles of British coast-line wdiere this bird is common, or
where an extensive colony may be found — and, curiously
enough, it is not known to breed on the famous Feme Islands.
I have seen it flying gracefully above the sea, close inshore, in
pairs and little scattered parties. Its habits are very similar
to those of the other Terns, but it prefers low-lying sandy
shores to rocky ones, and the mainland rather than islands.
This latter peculiarity is most probably the cause of its rarity,
for if it nested on islands there can be little doubt that it
would be much more abundant. It is a thorough bird of the
air — almost incessantly on the wing, save when it seeks the
sands to sleep, or the water to rest and wash itself. It flies
along the coast in a slow fluttering way, ever and anon falling
like a stone to the water to pick up some tiny fish. The
Lesser Tern arrives late in this country, seldom making its
appearance before the middle of May ; and it leaves early in
autumn for its winter home along the coasts of Africa. Its

236 OUR RARER BIRDS

note is very similar to that of the other Terns, but not quite
so loud, and is uttered most vociferously when its breeding
grounds are invaded. The Lesser Tern feeds on small fish
and crustaceans, sand lice, and not a few insects.

In the month of June, when the sun beats fiercely down
on the sandy shores, the Lesser Tern begins domestic duties.
Eegularly every year it appears on the same favourite bit of
coast. It breeds in small colonies, and on the broad expanse
of beach its eggs are extremely difficult to find. By the
actions of the birds, fluttering high in air above, you may
know their eggs are on the shore around you, but the only
way to obtain them is by a close and systematic search. I
have observed that the Lesser Tern prefers those portions of
the low beach where the smooth fine sand is varied here and
there with bits of rougher ground strewn with pebbles, broken
shells, and the various rubbish that accumulates on the shore.
It is no use searching the fine sand where the Einged Plovers
nest for the eggs of the Lesser Tern ; but if you confine your
attention to those bits of rougher beach your perseverance
will soon be rewarded. The Lesser Tern has an object in
laying its eggs on the rough broken ground, for it is there
they harmonise most closely with surrounding objects. If
laid on the smooth sand, their big blotches of colour would
make them most conspicuous, and they would be seen
at once. The Lesser Tern makes no nest — in many cases
not so much as scraping a hollow in the beach. She lays
her eggs on the bare ground, and during the hot hours of
day rarely sits upon them — the sun furnishing sufficient heat
for the purpose. It has been said that this bird never lays
more than three eggs in a clutch, but I have taken four on
two separate occasions in a small colony of these birds on
the Lincolnshire coast. The eggs are precisely the same in
colour as those of the Common Tern, but are as a rule more
boldly blotched and spotted. They are of course only about

THE LESSER TERN

237

half tlie size, and cannot easily be confused witli those of any
other British bird. When the nesting-place is visited by man
the little birds become very anxious and fly hurriedly about,
uttering their loud creaking-note at intervals. Only one
brood is reared in the season, and almost as soon as the
young can fly the great southern journey begins.

THE BLACK -HEADED GULL

(Larus ridibundus)

We generally associate the Gull with the coast — with the
wide waste of waters, the lonely shore, the rocks and the
mudflats ; but in the Black-headed Gull we have a bird of the
inland districts. In many of its habits the Black-headed Gull
resembles the Book. Like that species it may be seen following
the plough, or searching the grass lands for food. In spring
and summer this Gull lives in colonies of varying size, and
for miles and miles around them the birds are familiar objects
of the landscape, scattering themselves up and down the
country in search of food. They fly in little parties to the
newly-sown lands; they visit the meadows, and follow the
course of rivers for miles ; and are as much at home in the
fields as the black Books themselves, which often mingle with
them. I have watched these birds follow the plough, furrow
after furrow, running behind close to the ploughman's heels,
tamer than Books, searching amongst the rich brown earth
as the bright share turns it over, and feeding on the worms
and grubs it is for ever exposing. They are very conspicuous
birds on the green pastures and brown fallows ; and sometimes
they may be seen to fly up into the tall trees in the hedges
and sit there with as little concern as the Books and Starlings.
In autumn, after the young are safely reared, this bird
deserts the inland fields and marshes and seeks the coast,
especially those portions which are low and muddy; and here

THE BLACK-HEADED GULL 239

it may often be seen in thousands settling on the mudflats, or
following the shoals of fish for miles across the sea. It natur-
ally follows that a bird like the Black -headed Gull subsists
upon a somewhat varied diet. During spring and summer it
feeds on much the same substances as the Eook — grubs,
insects, worms, and especially wire- worms, frogs, and even
newly-sown grain, as well as fresh-water fish ; but in winter,
when it lives almost exclusively at sea, its food is fish, crusta-
ceans, and various other small animals of the deep. Unlike
the Terns, it feeds on shore as well as at sea, and picks up
much of its food when swimming on the surface as well as
when fluttering in the air. In winter it often follows ships,
and frequents harbours and tidal rivers to pick up any scraps
that may chance to be thrown overboard, or are floating on
the surface. There can be no doubt that this interestino-
little GuU is of great service to the agriculturist, and its
visits to the land should be encouraged. It has no mischievous
habits, nor does it return in harvest to levy a tribute for its
good offices in seed-time. No more harmless bird cleaves the
air, yet how often is it ruthlessly shot down by the stupid
farmer in very wantonness !

The Black-headed Gull is an early breeder. In the boister-
ous month of March it begins to acquire its sooty- brown hood,
which is the most distinctive feature of its wadding garments,
and by the beginning of April the usual breeding-places are
crowded with birds. By the middle of the month the nests
are made and many of the eggs deposited. Unfortunately
for the Black-headed Gull, the drainage and reclamation of
marshes and mosses have robbed it of many quiet breeding-
places, where it has reared its young in undisturbed pos-
session for ages. In the low-lying counties there are several
places left, but in the north its colonies are much more
numerous, though they cannot well be more interesting. A
visit to one of these famous '' Gulleries " is a red-letter day in

240 OUR RARER BIRDS

the life of a naturalist, and no matter how often his visits may
be repeated the interest never wanes, nor does the busy scene
lose any of its charm. The Black-headed Gull generally selects
a marshy part of a moor, or a low island in the centre of a pool,
for its breeding-place. Trees are by no means shunned by
this pretty bird, and many of its breeding-places are thickly
studded with low willow bushes and dwarf birches. I know
of districts where this bird breeds in considerable numbers,
which are surrounded by plantations ; and in one locality
these trees have even been built in by one or two pairs of
birds. Where the ground is clothed with long coarse grass, tufts
of rushes, and low bushes and brush w^ood, there the Gulls love
to make their nests. As soon as the colony is invaded, the
fri^'htened birds rise up from all parts of the soft elastic
ground, and, in a dense fluttering throng, fly and hover, and
turn and twist, in endless gyrations above their nests,
chattering loudly all the time. ISTumbers of birds settle on
the distant water; others alight on the low stumps and
bushes. As soon as we leave one part of the ground the
birds settle again; but the least unusual movement on our
part sends them fluttering into the air, and the noisy tumult
is renewed with increasing clamour, anxiety, and excitement.
You may now observe this Gull's powers of flight to perfec-
tion. Its usual mode of progress is by slow and regular beats
of its long wings, an interval between each stroke ; but it is
able to turn and hover w^ith considerable grace, and often
swoops obliquely down to within a few feet of the ground,
then mounts buoyantly up again. Many birds may be seen
sailing round and round at an immense height ; and others
often sweep along just above the water, picking up a scrap of
food as they go. If this bird is comparatively silent in the
fields, it is most noisy at the nest, and the babel of sounds is
deafening, each bird uttering cries of remonstrance in many
modulated tones. I have known quite a party of these birds

THE BLACK-HEADED GULL 241

follow me for some distance from their breeding-place, all
the time calling loudly. When the young are hatched the
scene is even more animated, and the anxiety and excitement
are immensely increased.

The nest of the Black-headed Gull varies a good deal in
size. In some cases it is little more than a hollow in the
ground ; but in others it is a well-formed structure of reeds
and rushes and coarse grass, banked high above the sur-
rounding marsh. Many nests are made in the centre of the
rush tufts, or in clumps of coarse grass, and I have even
known them built amongst the reeds in the shallow water,
where they very closely resembled the nest of a Moorhen or
a Coot. The eggs are three or four in number, and present
great diversity of colour, size, and shape. They vary in
ground colour from rich brown to pale bluish-green, spotted
and blotched with dark brown and violet -gray. On some
eggs the markings take the form of streaks; and on many
most of the spots and blotches form an irregular zone round
the larger end. Very eccentric -looking eggs may often be
found, with the colouring matter in a dense circular patch
at the large end, gradually tinting off into the ground colour,
or with only one or two enormous patches of colour here and
there, and the remainder of the shell quite free from markings.
Vast numbers of the eggs of this Gull are taken for food — in
some places the birds being a valuable source of income to
the owner of the property on which they have formed their
busy colony. Crop after crop of eggs is gathered, the foolish
Gulls laying a second or even a third clutch. They must
indeed be strongly attached to their breeding grounds to
thus submit to such systematic robbery; but if they are
allowed to rear the second or third lot of eggs they seem
satisfied, and unerringly return the following season to
their old haunt. The Black -headed Gull only rears one
brood in the season, and as soon as the young can fly the

16

242 OUR RARER BIRDS

birds collect into enormous companies and seek the distant
coasts.

The Black-headed Gull now becomes a nomad, and wanders
far and wide in quest of food, visiting coasts which it never
frequents in spring and summer ; and sometimes flying long
distances from land to attend the fishermen in their labours.
This bird flies a good deal at night, and I have known
numbers to be taken in the flight-nets both in winter and
during the late autumn months. Severe weather sometimes
drives this Gull to inland districts, especially up the large
rivers, even to the centre of our busy Metropolis. It is ever
wary at this season though, and generally flies high and
keeps well out of danger.

THE COMMON GULL

{Larus canus)

The Common Gull scarcely deserves its name, for it is
certainly the rarest and most local of all the resident British
species, and its habits during the breeding season can only
be observed in the north. I have never met with this
bird common anywhere, and its colonies with which I am
acquainted are comparatively small.

In many of its habits the Common Gull very closely
resembles the Black -headed Gull. Like that bird, it may
often be seen on the inland pastures miles from the breeding-
place, following the plough. It may be readily distinguished
from its smaller congener by the absence of the brown hood,
and by its yellowish-green bill, legs, and feet, which in the
Black -headed Gull are dark red. It runs about the rough
land picking up grubs and worms, or stands on the big lumps
of earth, and if frightened sometimes takes refuge in the
nearest tree. I have often met with this bird on the higher
moors, miles away from the sea, where the Dunlins breed, or
flying over the deep clear tarns and lochs. It often follows
the course of a loch or a long narrow arm of the sea for miles
and miles up the country, and seems always to prefer the
land-locked waters to the open sea. I remember on one
occasion to have watched a large party of these birds fishing
along the shores of Loch Carron. The waves were lashing
along shore, and driving with fury before a stiff northerly

244 OUR RARER BIRDS

breeze, and showers of snow and sleet were falling at intervals.
Among the storm and the angry waters the Common Gulls
were busy, flying up and down a few yards above the waves,
and every now and then dropping to catch a fish or pick
some floating substance from the sea. They did not go far
out from shore, and ever and anon a few birds would settle
down upon the water, where they were almost invisible among
the foam-crested waves. The flight of the Common Gull is
slow and deliberate, performed with regular beats of the long
wings; but the bird has considerable command over itself,
and can turn and twist and hover with much gracefulness.
I have also seen it fly in the teeth of the gale, and mount
up high in air to swoop down wind with amazing quickness.

The food of the Common Gull is composed of insects,
worms, grubs, frogs, and fish. The bird may sometimes be
seen searching among the rocks and heaps of drifted seaweed
at low water, and it picks up any floating garbage from the
sea. I have known it follow in the wake of a fishinsj smack
for miles, picking up anything eatable that by chance was
thrown overboard. It is by no means a shy bird at sea, but
on land it rarely ventures within gunshot, unless at its
breeding colony. After its appetite is satisfied, the Common
Gull seeks some quiet ocean rock or low island, where it
preens its feathers and sleeps. This bird flies much at night,
especially in autumn and winter ; but during summer it is
rarely on the wing during the few short hours of darkness.

The Common Gull collects at its breeding- places late in
April, but the eggs are not laid until the middle of May.
You may find its nest in many different localities. Sometimes
a small island in a mountain lake is used ; and I have taken
its eggs from the low cliffs and the flat tops of rock-stacks,
as well as on the quiet parts of the shore far from man's
habitation. But the most extensive colonies, so far as my
observations extend, are established on rocky islands in the

THE COMMON GULL 245

deep sea-water lochs. In some places almost every island
contains a few nests, and on the larger ones the colonies of
birds become more extensive. In most cases, however, the
nests are scattered up and down a considerable extent of
o-round. One of the larcjest colonies of these birds I ever
visited was established on a rather low island which sloped
up from a sandy beach and fell down in many parts in small
cliffs to the sea. It was covered with long grass and patches
of heath, and where the turf was shortest big masses of
rugged rock were exposed, and in some places the ground for
many square yards was composed of the flat top of a piece of
rock. Here and there were several rocky hillocks covered
with turf, sloping on one side, falling down in steep rugged
descents on the other. The Common Gulls were to be seen
standing on these rocks and little eminences long before we
landed, and a few birds kept rising from and dropping into
the herbage again, or hovering some distance in the air, as if
watching our approach. As soon as we landed and crossed
the bit of sandy beach the birds began to rise. From all
parts of the island fluttering Gulls rose from the tall herbage
and the exposed rocks, and soon the air was full of them, all
uttering their harsh note of yak-yak-yah most persistently. I
found their nests in various situations. Some were built in a
crevice of the bare rocks, others were deep amongst the tall
grass and heath ; many were made in shallow hollows in the
bare turf, and one nest was built in the little cliff overlooking
the sea. The nests varied a good deal in size, those in the
most exposed situations being the smallest— indeed, some of
these latter were little more than depressions in the ground.
They were made of heather branches, turf, dry grass, and bits
of seaweed, and some were lined with grass almost fresh and
green. Most of the nests contained eggs, but some were
evidently only just finished and empty. The eggs are three
or four in number, various shades of olive-brown in ground

246 OUR RARER BIRDS

colour, spotted and often streaked with dark-brown and gray.
We might have gathered many baskets full of eggs from this
interesting island, but we w^ere content with a few. Some of
the Gulls whose nests w^e lingered near came very close,
almost within arm's length, and many birds followed us far
out from shore when we left them to the undisturbed posses-
sion of their wild home.

When the young are safely reared the Common Gulls
quit their breeding-places and wander far and wide in quest
of food. They may now be observed hundreds of miles away
from their summer quarters, following the shoals of fish, and
flying up the wide mouths and estuaries of southern rivers.
They now live almost exclusively on fish, rarely visit land to
feed, and are very fond of entering bays and harbours.

THE KITTIWAKE

(Larus tridactylus)

The Kittiwake is a thorough bird of the rocks. There is
scarcely a sea-cliff of any magnitude rearing its lofty sides
out of the deep green water that does not contain the nest of
this charming little Gull. It is the life and animation of the
rocks. The Guillemots may sit in solemn endless rows on
every ledge and shelf, the Eazorbills may tenant each nook
and cranny of the cliffs, but the scene is a silent one so far
as they are concerned. On the lower ledges and projections
the Kittiwakes breed, and their noisy clamour is incessantly
sounding from the dizzy depths. High above the roar of the
waters, as they dash against the solid walls of cliff, the
I\jttiwake's unmistakable cry is heard, sounding like get-away-
ah-get-aioay, and the birds may be seen clustering on the
rocks far down the awful depths, only a few feet above the
restless waves. The Kittiwake never leaves the sea. It
rears its young on these stupendous boundary walls of the
vast ocean, and when domestic duties are over it leaves
the rocks and wanders far and wide over the wild and
lonely watery wastes.

At all seasons of the year the Kittiwake is a gregarious
bird. Summer and winter alike it may be seen in flocks of
varying size, often great distances from land. In calm
weather the Kittiwake stays out at sea for weeks together,
attending the fishing smacks or the shoals of sprats, resting

248 OUR RARER BIRDS

when tired on the heaving waves, where it often sleeps as
safely as on land. There is something indescribably beautiful
about a sleeping Gull at sea. How its shining gray and
white body rides buoyantly on the billows, now deep down
in the hollows, then high up on the curling, foaming crests !
What confidence the little bird must have in its powers
of swimming even in the roughest w^ater, to trust itself to
sleep on the ever-tossing surface ! The Kittiwake flies most
lightly and buoyantly — rather slowly it is true, but with
wonderful power and command over itself. I have seen this
pretty little Gull beat to windward in a gale which I have had
the greatest difficulty in breasting, and watched it turn and
twist, or glide obliquely down to the water's edge with w^onder-
ful dexterity and speed. As its food consists principally of
fish, the Kittiwake spends most of its time in search of them,
flying lightly along a little distance above the water and pounc-
ing down every now and then when it sees its prey below.
The shoals of fish are foUow^ed by the hungry Kittiw^akes, and
never allowed a moment's peace until each bird's appetite is
satisfied. The Kittiwake also frequently follows ships to feed
on any refuse thrown from them ; and it often takes crusta-
ceans and other marine creatures from the w^ater. I do not
think that this bird feeds much on shore, although you may
sometimes see it on the mudflats. Still it rests but seldom
on the beaches and rocks, and when doing so appears never
to engage in search for food. Few^ birds are gifted with
keener powers of sight, and the moment anything is thrown
overboard several birds are sure to visit it, even if they were
previously flying a great distance aw\ay.

The Kittiwake breeds in enormous colonies on most of
our sea-cliffs, and from what I have observed of this bird's
economy I pronounce it to be a life-paired species. Every
year the same nests are tenanted, provided of course that the
wintery storms and the nine months' incessant buffeting of

THE KITTIWAKE 249

spray and tempest have left them intact. In studying the
nesting economy of this Gull you will find that it breeds, as
a rule, much lower down the cliffs than the Guillemot and
the Eazorbill. Clusters of its nests may be seen within
thirty feet of the waves. It is no use looking for the
Kittiwake's nest on low and broken rocks ; it chooses the
most inaccessible portions of the high cliffs that tower almost
like a wall from the sea. In places where the rocks do not
furnish ledges and crannies enough for the Guillemots and
Eazorbills, the Kittiwakes make their nests on almost every
part, but by far the most thickly on the lower portions. It
is only the most daring climber who can take the eggs of
this bird, for rarely indeed are they laid in situations easy of
access. The nests are built on the narrow ledges and pro-
jections of the rock. A favourite site is where a piece of
cliff has been broken off, leaving a shelving ledge perhaps
only a foot across. Every little bit of vantage ground is used
if the colony be large, and many nests are built close together.
The Kittiwake's nest is a large well-made structure, adapted
in every way to withstand the knocking about it receives
from the wind and spray. In the first place turf and roots
are used, the soil adhering to them soon becoming saturated
with spray, and beaten into a mortar-like mass by the in-
cessant pattering of the bird's webbed feet. Upon this solid
foundation the Kittiwake builds a further nest of seaweed
and stalks of marine plants, lining it with dry grass. A few
feathers may sometimes be seen in the nest, but their presence
is due more to accident than design. The droppings of the
birds are strewn all round the nest and over the rocks, makinf^
the place look as if it had been whitewashed. The eggs are
three or four in number, and differ considerably in colour,
shape, and size. Some eggs are pale bluish-green in ground
colour, others are olive -brown or yellowish-brown ; the spots
and blotches are dark brown and gray. Many eggs have

2SO OUR RARER BIRDS

most of the spots in a zone ronnd the larger end, others are
boldly splashed with colour over their entire surface, and less
frequently the markings take the form of streaks.

As soon as their rocky fastnesses are approached, the
Kittiwakes set up a noisy chorus of remonstrance. Bird
after bird flutters lightly into the air from all parts of the
cliffs ; numbers may be seen still sitting restlessly upon their
nests ; others are standing on the rocks, whilst many are
flittinof to and fro alonf^ the face of the cliff. It is a most
impressive scene, and one not likely to be forgotten. To my
mind the incessant noisy clamour of the birds adds largely to
the wild beauty of the picture. Their notes speak eloquently
of freedom — there is an independence about them quite in
harmony with the rushing sea and the rugged rocks. Like
hardy mountaineers these pretty Gulls cling to their favourite
cliffs, bidding defiance to all but winged enemies or the most
venturesome of climbers.

I have seen numbers of Kittiwakes' colonies, and visited
their nests in many beetling cliffs, but the colony — or rather
the succession of colonies at St. Kilda are by far the most
interesting. In all suitable places round the clif!s of these
rugged isles the Kittiwake rears its young, and here, as
everywhere else, it reserves the most terrible parts of the
rocks for its cradle — many nests being in places where the
precipices overhang considerably. There the birds stand
and seem to call defiantly and mockingly to the boat
that ventures as near the terrible wall of rock as it dare,
Avithout being dashed to pieces by those stupendous waves
which have not encountered land since they left the
New AVorld in their two thousand -mile race across the
wide Atlantic.

As soon as the Kittiwake's young can leave the nest, the
rocks are almost deserted. Both parents assist in tending
the young, and when once they can fly the noisy birds wander

THE KITTIWAKE 251

off to sea, to follow the shoals of fish. They now stray far
from their rocky haunts, which are deserted till the following
spring. The Kittiwake, I might just here remark, is readily
distinguished from all the other British Gulls by its small
size and absence of the hind toe.

THE HEEEING GULL

{Larus argentatus)

Of all the Gulls that frequent the British seas the Herring
Gull is perhaps the best known. There is scarcely a bay, a
harbour, or an estuary that is not visited more or less
frequently by this bold handsome bird — readily distinguished
from all his companions by his large size and pale gray
mantle. The Herring Gull may be seen on many a wide
river near the sea flying unconcernedly about among the
shipping, or even in the busy docks, where it skims lightly
over the water and picks up any refuse that may be thrown
from the vessels. Its haunts, however, are by no means
confined to the shore. According to season, you may observe
this big Gull on the pastures and the fallows, following the
plough, or in the fields in seed-time, and the stubbles after
harvest.

In many of its habits the Herring Gull is apt to remind
you of the Eaven. Like that sable thief, the Herring Gull
seldom fails to visit carrion of all kinds lying in the fields or
near the shore. I have watched a flock of these birds
assist the Hooded Crows and Eavens in pulling a drowned
sheep to pieces ; and they may be seen repeatedly hawking
along the coast, or over the mudflats, in search of any
izarbajje that has been washed ashore. There is little eat-
able that this bold freebooter will not try and carry off.
Even the flight-nets are visited by this daring Gull, and the

THE HERRING GULL 253

poor captives torn to pieces before the fisliermen can take
them from the toils. As its name implies, the Herring Gull
feeds largely on fish, and never fails to betray the where-
abouts of the shoal to the anxious fishermen. On the beach
and mudflats, where it walks about in a singularly graceful
manner, it searches for any marine animals that may chance
to be washed up by the tide or left in the little pools of
water amongst the rocks, its strong powerful beak enabling
it to tear and break most objects it may attack. Crabs,
crustaceans, mussels, limpets, are all eaten by the Herring
Gull ; and it persistently attends the fishing smacks, to prey
upon the refuse of all kinds thrown overboard. It may
well be described as the Eaven of the ocean — like that
bird it is almost omnivorous. It is rather quarrelsome, and
may often be seen fighting with its congeners over scraps of
food, or even robbing the smaller Gulls and Terns of their
hard-earned spoil.

Vast numbers of Herring Gulls frequent the mudflats on
the low-lying coasts, mostly of young and immature birds.
When on the beach they are shy and wary enough, and
when flying from place to place over land they always keep
well out of gunshot ; but at sea they are often absurdly
tame, and fly round and round a boat within a few feet of
the observer's head. The Herring Gull flies slowly and
rather laboriously, with regular beat of wing ; but it is
capable of performing many graceful evolutions in the air,
and when flying with the wind often sweeps along at a great
pace, riding, as it were, on the very wings of the storm. Both
this and the other species of Gulls often soar to an immense
height, wheeling round and round in circles. When fishing,
the Herring Gull drops lightly down into the sea like a Tern.
It swims well, sitting high and buoyant in the water, and is
only driven to land by the roughest weather,
i The breeding season ofthe Herring Gull begins in May. The

254 OUR RARER BIRDS

bird does not collect into such enormous colonies as the Lesser
Black-backed Gull, the Kittiwake, or the Black-headed Gull,
but you generally come across a few nests here and there.
It breeds on the lofty cliffs rising hundreds of feet out of a
restless sea, as well as on the ground along the coast, in little
frequented districts. Its favourite place, however, is on an
island — either a low sandy one, or a precipitous ocean rock.
A few pairs of Herring Gulls breed on the grassy slopes on
the north side of the Bass, some distance inland from the top
of the cliff ; and I have taken its eggs from the flat summits
of small stacks of rocks. In fine, the Herring Gull adapts
itself so readily to circumstances that suitable breeding-
places may be found almost anywhere along the coast; hence
the birds are scattered over a vast extent, and have not to
collect in large colonies in a few favoured localities. When
on the cliffs the nest is usually a much more bulky structure
than when built on the ground. It is made of turf, dry
seaweed, stalks of marine herbage, and lined with grass.
Some nests are hollows in the ground, simply lined with
semi-dry grass ; and I have occasionally seen the eggs lying
almost on the bare ground. At the Bass the Herring Gulls
are remarkably wary, and fly from their nests at the least
alarm, as if conscious that their showy dress would only lead
to the discovery of their treasures. I have frequently seen
them run quickly for some distance from their nests before
they took wing. At the Femes many Herring Gulls nest
on the low herbage-covered islands, mixing and fraternising
with the Lesser Black-backed Gulls. When their nests are
menaced by danger the Herring Gulls become exceedingly
clamorous and anxious, flying hurriedly about, or swooping
round the head of an intruder, all the time uttering their
harsh chattering cries. When their nests are built on the
cliffs they do not seem so anxious, and I have known them
fly right away as soon as I disturbed them from their eggs.

THE HERRING GULL 255

Great numbers of Herring Gulls breed at St. Kilda, but here
as elsewhere they are scattered up and down the cliffs, and
do not seem to have any special choice of habitation. A few
nests are made on the beetling rock- stacks, and many more
on the grassy spaces of the cliffs. The natives of St. Kilda
persecute this Gull with a deadly hatred. It is a great
robber of eggs, and levies wholesale tribute on the Fulmars'
nests. In some parts shepherds break the eggs of the
Herring Gull at every opportunity, and everywhere it
appears to be more or less disliked, owing to its various
depredations.

The eggs of the Herring Gull are two or three in number,
and rather larger than those of the Lesser Black -backed
Gull. They vary from pale bluish-green to olive-brown and
yellowish -brown, in ground colour, somewhat sparingly
spotted with dark brown and gray. Only one brood is reared
in the season, and as soon as the young can fly they appear
to be deserted by their parents, and flock by themselves
during the several years that elapse before they obtain their
complete dress of maturity.

Durino- the winter months the Herrino- Gull wanders far

o o

and wide, and often visits inland waters. Flocks of birds
frequent almost every little fishing village along the coast,
and they may often be met w^ith far at sea. These birds
may often be seen flying across country high in air from one
coast to another. On these extended flights the birds are
frequently attracted by lakes and large sheets of fresh water,
which they sometimes linger near for days. A broad stubble
or newly -ploughed or manured field will also tempt this
Gull from the air in its wdnter wanderings.

THE LESSER BLACK -BACKED GULL

{Larus fuscus)

Two more species of Gull claim our notice before we bid these
OTaceful sea-birds adieu. The first of these is the Lesser Black-

o

backed Gull, a very common bird in many localities, and one
that is specially interesting to the naturalist. By far the
best time to observe the habits of this beautiful Gull is in
May and June, when it is busy at its nesting colonies. Most
famous of all its nurseries in the British Islands is the one on
the Eerne Islands — that Eldorado of the ornithologist. Here
the various species of sea-fowl have had their home for ages ;
from all parts of the wide waste of waters they come in
spring, and make these rocky isles their grand headquarters
for the summer.

These celebrated islands lie about five miles from shore,
and long before you land upon them signs of their rich bird
treasures may be seen. The Terns in screaming crowds are

THE LESSER BLACK-BACKED GULL 257

most numerous on one island, the Puffins live upon another,
the " Pinnacles " are sacred to the Guillemots and the Kitti-
vvakes ; but on every island in the group the Lesser Black-
backed Gull has established a colony. As you approach
the islands the big Gulls may be seen thickly dotted up and
down the oreen sward, or standinGf in scores on the low rocks
and boulders. Gulls are everywhere. Wherever you may
cast your eye it is sure to rest on one or two of these big
birds standing all warily intent on watching the approach of
the boat. Your landing is the signal for general confusion
and consternation amongst the birds. One by one they take
wing, and as you wander up from the shore Gulls rise on
every side. Thousands of birds are soon in the air together,
rising from all parts of the grass, the patches of sea-campion,
and the rocky ridges, in a confused mass fluttering about like
big animated snowflakes. Almost at every step you stumble
across a Lesser Black -backed Gull's nest. They are every-
where — amongst the grass and marine herbage, in the crevices
of the rocks, and on the bare peaty ground, sometimes in the
hollows where the Puffin's burrows have fallen in. The
anxious owners clamour loudly from the air above, and peer
down upon you with troubled glances. As soon as you leave
one part of the island those birds whose nests are free from
intrusion soon settle down again, but at the least alarm they
rise screaminsj^ into the air. You w^ill never find them, how-
ever, go on to their nests until their breeding-place is finally
deserted by man. As you visit island after island, the same
strange stirring scenes are repeated — the clamorous Gulls
rising and filling the air in a troubled seething throng. Gulls
are also constantly arriving from the sea, no doubt having
observed the unusual disturbance from afar, and hastening
home to learn the cause.

The same behaviour may be noticed in the smaller colonies
of this bird, established on the various rocky islands round

17

258 OUR RARER BIRDS

the coast. Considerable numbers of this fine bird breed on
the stacks and clifts of St. Kilda, some of them doin": so
amongst the colonies of Gannets and Fulmars. This bird is
also hated by the St. Kildan, its proneness to cany off the
eggs of the sacred Fulmar being in his eyes a capital offence.
Colonies of this bird frequently establish themselves some
distance from the open sea, on islands in quiet lochs and
tarns.

The nest of the Lesser Black-backed Gull varies a good
deal in size even in the same colony of birds. Usually it is
rather a bulky structure, made of pieces of turf, branches of
heather, and leaves and stalks of sea-campion, finally lined
with grass. The nests are poorly made, very flat, and but
little art is displayed in concealing them. Where a natural
hollow in the ground has been selected, only a little dry grass
is arranged by way of lining, and many nests in the crevices
and crannies of the rocks are small, and very loosely and
slovenly arranged. The eggs are three or four in number,
and differ in colour in a most remarkable manner. Usually
the eggs in a nest are pretty uniform in colour, but it is by
no means uncommon to find one of quite a different type
among the rest. In a heap of perhaps twenty thousand eggs
lying before me, pale green, bluish-white, dark olive -brown,
pale brown, buff, and gray constitute the ground colours, and
the spots and blotches vary from dark liver-brown to pale
brown and gray. Some eggs are streaked almost like those
of a Bunting, others are finely marked over the entire surface;
whilst others, yet again, are boldly blotched, or have most of
the markings in a zone round the larger end. The eggs of
this Gull can be confused with those of the Common Gull
and the Herring Gull, but as a rule those of the former
species are much smaller, whilst those of the latter are on
an average considerably larger, and the markings take more
the form of spots rather than blotches. The Lesser Black-

THE LESSER BLACK-BACKED GULL 259

backed Gull only rears one brood in the year ; but as its eggs,
especially at the Feme Islands, are systematically taken in
enormous numbers for food, it does not succeed in doing so
until several clutches of eggs have been laid.

As soon as the young can fly they are deserted by their
parents, and for the remainder of their infancy they live in
flocks by themselves, wandering far from their birthplace,
and frequenting mudflats, low-lying coasts, and the open sea.
The Lesser Black-backed Gull becomes a great nomad after
the breeding season has passed. It still continues gregarious,
however, and not only keeps company with its own kind,
but often mixes with Herring Gulls and even with Kitti-
wakes. The latter birds are often sorely persecuted by this
bold Gull, and he robs them mercilessly of the fish they so
patiently search for and capture. The Lesser Black-backed
Gull in its search for food often visits inland districts,
especially in winter, and it may then be seen on the fallows
in quest of grubs and worms, and in autumn on the stubbles
picking up the scattered grain. Like the Herring Gull, it is
almost omnivorous in its diet ; it is incessantly searching
along the coast or above the water for food of all kinds. It
catches many fish itself, it robs the smaller and more weakly
Gulls of more. It will make a meal on almost any garbage
floating on the waves or cast ashore by the tide. It eats
carrion like the Eaven, and visits the flight-nets to tear in
pieces the Waders and Ducks and Geese that may chance to
be cauQ'ht in them ; and I have known it make a meal on
its own unfortunate companions lying dead in the snares !
Like the Herring Gull, it is a persistent follower of ships, and
attaches itself to the fleets of fishing^ smacks, waitincj for the
refuse of the nets on which it eagerly swoops as it is cast
overboard. Like all the other Gulls, it swims well and buoy-
antly, but never dives. There are times when this bird stays
far out at sea for many days together, resting when tired on

26o OUR RARER BIRDS

the waves, where it also slee^os. Except at its breeding-place,
I have always found this bird to be a very shy one, never
allowing a close approach when on land, and always extremely
wary when flying near a boat or ship at sea. Vast numbers
of these birds frequent the low^ coasts and muddy estuaries;
but even the young birds, in flocks by themselves, are ever on
the alert, and the least alarm causes them to take wing. It
will be noticed that this bird and most of the other Gulls
often run for a little distance ere taking wing, as if to gain
an impetus before they rise.

The Gulls are eminently conspicuous birds when standing
on a broad expanse of mud, or on the green turf or dark-
looking rocks. They seem to be fully aware of this, and are
ever on the look-out for the enemies their conspicuous dress
is likely to attract. The more protectively coloured birds of
the coast lie close until almost trod upon before they take
wing, conscious of the safety they derive from their sombre
dress. On the vast banks of mud the Gulls are the first to
take alarm ; the big gray Herons may be equally as wary, but
they do not fly so readily. Long before you get near enough
to observe them closely, as they cluster in the shallows or
bathe in the little pools, the Gulls take wing, and in a
scattered straggling host go off to safer quarters, leaving a
few white feathers on the mud or floating on the shallow
water, to mark the place which they have left.

Earest and most local of all our resident Gulls, the Great
Black-backed Gull {Lams marinus) here claims a passing
notice. It becomes much more frequent in the wild rocky
northern districts, and only wanders to low-lying coasts in
winter. It is the shyest and the wariest of our Gulls, and
probably more oceanic in its habits than any of the rest. Like
the other large Gulls, it is almost omnivorous, eating anything
it can find along the shore or floating on the waves. It is a
great robber of eggs, and at St. Kilda the natives persecute it

THE LESSER BLACK-BACKED GULL 261

with a deadly hatred. In the breeding season it rarely con-
gregates into large colonies, but a few pairs are scattered up
and down the suitable parts of the coast. The rude and
somewhat scanty nest is generally made on some inaccessible
stack of rocks, and I have taken its eggs from the highest
cliffs. Sometimes it selects a small islet in a lake, but no-
where does it venture to make its nest unless sure of a con-
siderable amount of seclusion and solitude. Its eggs are
three in number, the largest of all British Gulls', brown of
various tints in ground colour, sparingly spotted with dark
brown and gray. The loud harsh notes of this splendid Gull
lend a charm to the scenes it frequents.

Closely allied to the Gulls, but easily distinguished from
them by their cuneiform tails, two species of Skuas must be
included among our rarer birds. The first of these is Eich-
ardson's Skua {Lcstris richardsoni), which has its breeding
stations on the Oater Hebrides, the Orkneys, and Shetlands,
and some parts of the northern mainland. It is distinguished
from the other British species of Skua by its small size, narrow-
pointed central tail-feathers, and black tarsus. It is a bird
of rapid powerful flight, and is constantly chasing the Terns
and the smaller Gulls to rob them of their newly-caught
prey. It is a bold robber, and best described as the Hawk
among Gulls, feeding on the helpless young, and stealing the
eggs of any species it is able to attack with impunity. It
also eats the refuse of the shore, and picks up any floating
garbage in its airy flights above the sea. Eichardson's Skua
is a summer visitor to our islands, migrating along the coasts
in April and laying its eggs about the end of May. It breeds
in scattered colonies on the moors of the wild lonely north,
sometimes a considerable distance from the sea, sometimes
on the hills just above the shore. The nest is a simple one
— a little hollow scratched out on the open moor, with
scarcely any shelter near it, lined with a few blades of dry

262 OUR RARER BIRDS

grass and dead leaves. Here the female lays two and some-
times three eggs, olive-brown and reddish-brown of various
shades in ground colour, spotted, blotched, and sometimes
streaked with dark brown and pale gray. It is almost im-
possible to distinguish them from those of the Common and
Black-headed Gulls. The note of this bird is a loud chatter-
ing kind of cry.

The second species is the Great Skua {Lestris catarrhactes),
whose only claim for notice here is the fact that it breeds in
one or two localities in the Shetlands, where it is jealously
preserved from extinction. It is more of an oceanic species
than the preceding, otherwise closely resembling it in its
habits, food, and mode of obtaining it. At the end of April
the birds quit all our southern coasts and seas, and visit their
moorland haunts for the purpose of nesting. The eggs are
laid in May, and as soon as the young can fly the land is
practically deserted for the open sea. This bird is very bold
at the nest, and swoops angrily round the intruder's head as
he examines its home. The nest is slight, and the eggs,
only two in number, resemble very closely those of the
Herring Gull, but the markings are not so clearly defined.
The large size, dark colour, and only slightly rounded tail are
sufficient characters to distinguish this species.

THE PUFFIN

{Fratercida arctica)

We have little opportunity of observing the habits of the
Puffin except at its breeding - places, for when once its
domestic duties are over it deserts the land and lives almost
exclusively at sea. There are few places on the coast at all
suitable to the requirements of this bird, where it does not
live in abundance, and in some districts its numbers are
almost past belief. It is a very gregarious bird, breeding in
extensive colonies and frequenting the sea in vast flocks. It
cannot be confused with any other bird on the coast, its big
bright-coloured beak and singularly comical facial expression
being sufficient to identify it anywhere and everywhere.

Early in spring the Puffins come up from the sea to their
various breeding-places, and then their habits can be studied
to best advantage. In some places these interesting little
birds make their appearance with singular regularity every
season, coming almost to a day. This time varies consider-
ably in certain districts — in some places it is early in March,
in others not before the beginning of April, whilst yet in
others not until the beginning of May. From all parts of the
sea the birds come to the wonted breeding-place ; in thousands
and tens of thousands they arrive, and the cliffs and islands
where they nest suddenly swarm with Puffins, all congregated
for the summer. The sea near a haunt of the Puffin is
almost continually sprinkled with these birds diving and

264 OUR RARER BIRDS

swimming in all directions, and constantly flying to and from
the land. It is by no means a sliy bird, and often allows a
boat to approach it within a few yards ; but you may fre-
quently see it dive with marvellous rapidity when alarmed,
and rise again to the surface far out of danger. It swims
buoyant as a cork on the heaving sea, and dives for long
distances, absolutely flying under water with almost as much
ease as through the air. It alWays prefers to escape from
danger by diving or swimming hurriedly away; but when
flushed you will find that it rises lightly from the water, and
on rapidly beating wings flies quickly off. The whirr of its
wings as it rises from the sea or starts from the cliffs is
singularly loud. Not only are the Puffins gregarious, but they
are very sociable too, and often mingle with Guillemots,
Eazorbills, and other birds. Upon the ground it is by no
means awkward, in spite of its legs being placed so far back-
wards ; and you may often see it run bolt upright, flapping
its little wings with great rapidity to balance itself.

The principal food of the Puffin is small fish, especially
sprats and the fry of the larger species, notably of the
pollock and the herring, for which it dives to a great depth.
In addition to fish the bird also eats small crabs, shrimps, and
other crustaceans, but I do not think it ever touches vegetable
substances of any kind. Puffins often fly enormous distances
to feed. Wherever the shoals of fish may chance to be, the
birds will visit them ; and they may often be seen in little
flocks flying swiftly over the sea to and from the distant
feeding-places. I have often seen the Puffin five and twenty
miles from land fishing in the open ocean ; and the birds
that breed in St. Kilda frequently fly to the distant Minch to
feed, making a journey there and back of close upon a
hundred miles !

Vast numbers of Puffins breed close together, and their
nesting season begins in May. A variety of places are

THE PUFFIN 26:

chosen, in which the birds establish their busy colony. The
nest is placed at the end of a long burrow, something like a
rabbit -hole. This burrow is generally made by the birds
themselves, either in the soft peaty soil of low islands — as for
instance at the Femes, or in the ground at the top of the
cliffs — as at Flamborough, the Bass Eock, and in the Hebrides.
Other localities, however, are often chosen. At the Bass a
colony of Puffins have established themselves in the walls of
an old fortress overhanging the sea ; and at St. Kilda I have
often taken its e£^2;s from crannies in the cliffs, or from under
large masses of fallen rock on the shore. There is also
another breeding-place of these birds at St. Kilda in a sandy
bank above the sea, in just such another situation as we
should expect to find a colony of Sand Martins. The colony
at the Feme Islands is not nearly so interesting as some
others which I have visited. Few birds are to be seen here,
but the ground under foot is undermined with their burrows,
which are constantly falling in as you wander over the ground
knee-deep in sea-campion and coarse grass.

But St. Kilda is the Puffin's paradise ! All other breeding-
places of this bird that I have seen sink into utter in-
significance when compared with the vast colonies there.
Every available place is burrowed and honeycombed with
their holes, and the sea is often black with birds. The small
island of Doon and the cliff of Connacher are their head-
quarters. The island is so undermined with Puffins' burrows
that there is scarcely room for all the birds, and many of
them have taken refuge under the large masses of rock lying
on the steep grass-covered hillsides that slope precipitously
to the sea, whilst others quarrel with the Piazorbills in the
cliffs. When I landed on this magnificently bold rugged
island, whose peaks, like dismantled fortresses, rise six hun-
dred feet or more from the water, the Puffins in a dense,
whirling, bewildering throng swept out from their holes and

266 OUR RARER BIRDS

from their percliing-places on the rocks, all flying down
the slopes to the sea, when many of them rose high in air
and returned to circle above our heads in wild alarm. No
words of mine can do justice to the strange and wonderful
scene — the whole face of the island seemed slipping away
from under me as the mass of birds swept by. Not a single
bird uttered a note, but the noise of their rapidly-beating wings
resembled the distant rash of wind. The highest peaks of
this rocky isle were vignetted in a drifting mass of Puffins,
flying about, round and round, and to and fro, just as grace-
fully as Swifts. This habit of the Puf&n was new to me, and
interested me much, for the bird looks so heavy, and its
wings are so narrow and small, that I never thought it
capable of indulging in such prolonged aerial movements.
The Puffin's flight may be witnessed to perfection if you
wander along the summit of the cliffs on a breezy day. It
can and does fly most gracefully, poising itself on its little
wings, and spreading out its two bright orange-coloured legs
as a rudder to assist the short tail in steering it through the
circumambient air.

Doon, however, does not harbour so many Puffins as the
awful precipice of Connacher, and when I saw them leave
this noble cliff like swarm after swarm of bees, and con-
grecrate in one dense enormous cloud, the scene was grand —
overpowering in its magnificence. The Puffin is highly
prized as a delicacy by the natives of St. Kilda. ^lan and
woman, young and old — even the very children — join in
the chase of this remarkable bird. They dig them from their
nests, set horsehair snares for them in every accessible part
of the cliffs, and take them with long rods, at the end of
which a noose is fastened. The birds are simply plucked,
drawn, and salted, and hung up to dry in long strings across
the ceilings of the cottages, w^here the smoke from the turf
fire assists to cure them.

THE PUFFIN 267

The Puffin, as I before remarked, nests in a hole. Both
birds help to dig this out, and tlie scanty nest is made at the
end of the burrow, which is sometimes several yards in length,
though more often only a few feet. The nest is a simple
one, being composed of a little dry grass and perhaps a few
feathers. On this the female lays a single large Q^^'g, grayish-
white in ground colour, very faintly spotted and blotched
with brown and dark gray. As a rule the markings can
only be seen on the ^g<g when newly laid — contact with the
birds' feet soon covers it thickly with dirt. Both parents
take it in turns to sit on this solitary ^gg, and the young
bird remains in the burrow until it is nearly or quite able to
fly. The old birds disgorge their own food to feed the
nestling, but as it gets older they bring a plentiful supply of
freshly- caught tish, for which it often waits at the entrance
to the burrow. As soon as the young are safely reared, the
Puffins strike their camp and go down to the sea in quest of
fresh feeding -places, wandering far and wide until the
approach of the following breeding season. It should here
be remarked that the young birds resemble their parents
in colour, but the beak is small and dark brown, almost like
that of the young Eazorbill. I have never heard the Puffin
make a sound in the air or on the water, but when dragged
out of its hole it often utters a harsh note of remonstrance,
and will fight fiercely with its beak and claws, being capable
of inflicting a very severe wound.

i/,l!^^^C&-

THE EAZORBILL

{AIca tor da)

The Razorbill is a bird of the rocks, collecting in early-
spring from all parts of the British Seas, and taking up its
residence in its old breeding-places, precisely as is the case
with the Puffin. Wherever the cliffs are high and bold and
rocky enough you may be sure of meeting with the Razorbill
between the months of April and August. Like the Puffin
and the Guillemot, it is very gregarious, and not only
associates with its own kind, but may be seen repeatedly in
the company of various other rock-haunting birds. Whether
on sea or land its habits are intensely interesting, and the
bird becomes even more so when we bear in mind that it is
the nearest surviving relation of the now probably extinct
Great Auk.

THE RAZORBILL 269

As our fishing " cobble " dances lightly over the swelling
sea, bending to the breeze which bellies out the big brown
sail on this bright June morning, we are sure to meet with
the Eazorbill, especially as the coast we have just left is a
rocky one, and precipitous islands are in the neighbourhood.
What a grand imposing wall of cliffs the brave old headland
looks, now that we can see its lofty sides and wide extending
range of cliffs in one unbroken outline ! How noisy the
Kittiwakes are this morning, clustering thickly on the lower
rocks, and what an animated scene the steepest parts of the
cliffs present ! Parties of the birds w^e are in quest of keep
going and returning ; dotted thickly over the sea, we see
them swimming lightly, their pure white underparts glistening
in the sun as the big waves lift them up on their curling
crests. They are by no means shy; no noisy oars alarm
them as they rattle in the rowlocks ; we are allowed to
approach within a few yards and admire the beautiful con-
trast of their smoke-brown and brilliant wdiite plumage, and
deep black beaks, crossed with a narrow white line. At a
glance we can see that the true home of the Eazorbill is in
the water. Watch yonder bird turning his head from side
to side as he swims rapidly ahead of our boat, which must be
going a dozen knots an hour. See how quickly he can turn ;
how deftly he throws the salt water over himself. Watch
him closely ; he is sure to dive directly. Ah ! there he goes
like a flash under the surface ; and to what a depth he must
have descended, for several moments elapse before he rises
again a few yards farther on, the water running off his back
in beads that glint like diamonds in the sun. There, away
on our port -bow, a Eazorbill is sitting fast asleep on the
rolling waves, floating like a cork ; another and another are
swimming rapidly about, ever and anon diving in quest of
their finny prey. We are nearing the shoal of fish now, and
the birds crowd thickly on every side. Bird after bird dives

270 OUR RARER BIRDS

and reappears ; every now and then one rises into the
air and settles a little distance away ; while all the time
birds are going to and returning from the distant headland,
now lying low and indistinct on the horizon. We have a
good opportunity of witnessing the flight of the Eazorbill
now. See how heavily he rises from the water, sometimes
flapping along the surface, sometimes starting off at once.
How rapidly the narrow wings are moved, as if the bird were
compelled to beat tliem as fast as possible to prevent its heavy
body falling back into the water again. Once well up though,
the birds have no small command over themselves, and are
rapidly lost to view in the distance. We must be at least
ten miles from the rocks where these birds are breeding, but
this distance is nothing to a Eazorbill ; and little parties of
birds may oft be seen flying quickly and silently close above
the sea to much more distant feeding-places.

The Eazorbill feeds almost exclusively on small fish, very
similar to those which the Puffin eats, and it is especially
fond of fry. It chases the fish through the water quite as dex-
terously as the Hawk hunts the little birds on land, and is
capable of remaining under the surface for a surprising length
of time. It often visits the bottom of the shallower portions
of the sea, and searches amongst the rocks and seaweed for
crustaceans and other small marine creatures, yet it never
obtains any food on the shore, generally diving for all the
prey it captures.

But let us put our boat about and tack towards the
distant land again. We have seen the Eazorbill at home in
his native sea : now let us visit his busy colony on the rocks
and make ourselves acquainted with his domestic arrange-
ments. We need not visit the smooth cliffs where the narrow
ledges form a resting-place for Guillemots and Kittiwakes,
for there our search would be futile. AVe must confine our
operations to the rough broken rocks, where the face of the

THE RAZORBILL

71

cliff is full of crevices and cracks, and the broad platforms
thickly strewn with big boulders that have from time to time
fallen from above. The Eazorbill must have a cranny or a
hole of some kind in which to lay its ^gg. Where the cliffs
are very rugged and broken, I have often known it wander
under the loose rocks for several yards and lay its ^gg in a
place absolutely inaccessible. The rugged cliffs at Flam-
borough are the Eazorbill's paradise ; but the wild precipices
of St. Kilda make even these large colonies look small and
insignificant. I have taken the eggs of the Eazorbill in
many places and in all parts of the cliffs, yet I have never
seen them in the open. As you climb barefooted along ..the
face of the rugged rocks, the Eazorbills on every side eye you
with suspicion. Sitting bolt upright, the birds sway their
heavy bodies from side to side, and often bob their heads up
and down ; and as you approach them still more closely they
dart downwards into space on rapid wing to the wild
tumultuous sea hundreds of feet below. You may also
hear them scrambling about in the rock fissures, and catch
momentary glimpses of dozens of birds peej)ing out of the
nooks and from under the boulders. Birds are ever leaving
the cliffs and returning to them ; on every little projection
a Eazorbill or other rock-bird is sitting. The Eazorbills in
many cases are so reluctant to leave their %gg that you may
catch them in your hand as they crawl out of the crevices.
The Eazorbill lays one ^gg only, but if this is taken she will
lay a second and often a third or a fourth, if they are as
repeatedly removed. The bird makes no nest of any kind.
On the bare rocks or loose soil under them the egg is laid. I
am of opinion that the Eazorbill pairs for life, and every
season frequents one particular part of the cliffs. I once
took the egg of this bird from a Puffin's burrow on the
island of Doon, and I was assured by my companion
Donald that this one burrow was occupied by a pair of

272 OUR RARER BIRDS

Eazorbills every year. Both parents help to incubate the
solitary egg, but I do not think one ever feeds the other on
the cliffs.

The egg of the Eazorbill is a very handsome one, and
subject to considerable variation in size, shape, and markings.
In ground colour they exhibit every tint between pure white
and reddish-brown, and the blotches and spots vary from
dark liver-brown to grayish-brown. The markings are very
bold and decided and large — most numerous round the broad
end of the ^^^g^ where they often form an irregular zone. On
some eggs many streaky lines occur ; and in rare instances
you may find one very sparingly marked with colour. The
naturalist must bear in mind that the eggs of the Eazorbill
never exhibit even the faintest tinge of green externally; but
when held up to the light the inside of the shell displays a
strong tinge of clear pea-green — a characteristic, by the way,
which will enable him readily to distinguish them from those
eggs of the Guillemot which approach most closely in colour
to those of the Eazorbill.

The Eazorbill only rears one young bird in a season,
which either remains on the rocks till it is able to fly, or is
carried down to the sea by its parent shortly after it is
hatched. It would be profoundly interesting were we able
to discover the subtle law which governs the birth of male or
female birds in this species. So far as we can see, the sexes
are about equal in numbers, yet each pair of birds only pro-
duce one male or female chick each year. When the young
are safely reared the Eazorbills desert their rocky home and
disperse over the sea in every direction in quest of their food,
rarely visiting the shore at all. After severe gales in autumn
and winter I have known hundreds of these birds to be
washed up by the tide drowned, but the storm must be a
violent one indeed to render the sea too rough for the buoyant,
sturdy Eazorbill.

THE GUILLEMOT

(Alca troile)

The G-uillemot is the commonest of all the various species of
sea-birds that nestle on our ocean cliffs. There is not a
headland or an ocean rock which does not contain this bird
in varying numbers between the months of May and August.
Eminently gregarious at all seasons, its habits can be readily
studied, both in the sea and at its lofty breeding-place. The
Guillemot is one of my favourite birds — I have seen so much
of him. He has been my companion in many strange scenes,
on the stupendous rocks and the lonely sea. I have met
with him under many circumstances, and watched his actions
in a great diversity of haunt, but never failed to gain un-
wonted pleasure from a contemplation of his curious ways,
and the wild grandeur and sublimity of his rocky home.
Amongst such a wonderful choice of scene it is difficult to
select any one place where the habits of this bird can best be
studied. Let us visit a few of them in turn — the variety
may serve to interest the reader.

We are at Flamborough on a bright day in early June.
In spite of our repeated visits, these grand old weather-
beaten cliffs seem always new and attractive. The waves
still beat with terrific force against the white rugged walls of
rock, and leap forty feet or more in showers of spray and
foam up their hoary sides. You may see the Guillemots
in endless rows standing on the ledges and shelves of rock,

18

274 OUR RARER BIRDS

as you peer cautiously over the depths and look down,
down, down, until the brain reels and the eye becomes dim
at the strano'e and wonderful sisjht. In constant streams
the busy Guillemots are passing to and from the sea ; all is
animation and excitement ; and where the birds are pouring
off the narrow shelves you may see their beautiful eggs lying
so provokingiy out of reach. The restless sea below is full
of Guillemots all swimming and diving about in quest of
food, looking like bubbles or foam flecks tossing on the dark
blue waves. Were you to follow^ them there, you would
find their actions very similar to those of the Eazorbill. The
Guillemot resembles that bird in the colour of its plumage,
but may be readily distinguished by its long pointed beak.
It sits high and lightly in the water, swimming with head
erect Like a duck, and dives with the rapidity of thought. I
have known it remain under the surface for more than a
minute, and the great depth to wdiich it descends may be
thus readily noted. Many Guillemots are often taken in the
herring -nets as the birds dive after the small fish. The
Guillemot flies quickly if somewhat heavily, and its narrow
wings are beaten with great rapidity as it rises from the water.
It always prefers, however, to dive out of danger, and only
uses its wings when compelled. Notwithstanding its some-
what laboured flight, this bird often visits very distant feed-
ing grounds, flying home to its rocky haunts at eventide in
little bunches or compact flocks, silently and rapidly, just
above the surface of the sea. It is by no means a shy bird,
and will allow your boat to approach within a few yards ere it
dives or flies away. Wherever the shoals of fry are swimming
near the surface, there the Guillemots unerringly congregate ;
and few sights are more novel or interesting than the sea
thickly studded with these feeding birds. The Guillemot is
an expert fisher, chasing its finny prey through the water
with marvellous speed. Its food is principally composed of

THE GUILLEMOT 275

fish, the young of many species, especially the fry of the
pollock and the herring, and on sprats. In diving the bird
also secures many marine animals and insects, but it never
comes on land at all for the purpose of feeding. In all its
gatherings both on sea and shore, the Guillemot, like the
Razorbill, is a singularly silent bird, and the only sound I
have ever heard it utter is a low grunting noise, as it sits
upon the rocks, or struggles with its companions for a place
on the crowded ledges. But let us leave the sea below the
riamborough Cliffs and pay a passing visit to the Feme
Islands, far to the northward. Were we to go by sea, the
Guillemot might constantly be seen all the way in the water
feeding ; and as we approach these famous bird nurseries the
more numerous do the birds become.

The Feme Islands are one vast habitation of sea-birds,
but the Guillemots are confined to a single colony. The
islands are low and offer few suitable breeding-places for
this bird. The only colony of Guillemots at this bird bazaar is
situated on the flat tops of a group of stack-like rocks close to
one of the islands. These cliffs are known as the " Pinnacles."
Standing on this island and looking across the narrow channel,
the scene that presents itself to our notice is a most interest-
ing one, and one that can never be forgotten. The flat tops
of these cliffs are one dense moving mass of Guillemots, so
closely wedged together that it seems impossible for another
bird to find room. Yet Guillemots are comino; from the sea
and trying to find a standing place, pushing off their com-
panions as they alight, and the sea below is dotted every-
where with Guillemots. Scarcely a sound is heard from
them, though on the sides of these rock -stacks numerous
Kittiwakes have their nests and clamour incessantly at our
unwelcome intrusion. As we make preparations for getting
on the top of the rocks the Guillemots begin to leave. From
every side they pour off in streams to the water, knocking off

276 OUR RARER BIRDS

many eggs in their hurried departure ; and by the time we
have reached the summit not a bird is left, but the white
rock is thickly strewed with hundreds upon hundreds of
their beautiful eggs of almost every conceivable variety of
colour. The sea is now one mass of Guillemots, waiting
patiently for us to leave, when they will hurry back again to
their e<]jos.

Many Guillemots breed at the Bass Eock, and I have
taken their eggs from most parts of the cliffs, but nowhere do
the birds crowd so thickly together as at the world-famed
" Pinnacles." At the Bass the Guillemot lays its egg on the
narrow ledges and amongst the little chinks and cracks. It
has been said that the pear-shaped egg of this bird is so
formed as to turn round on its own axis when blown by the
wind. This statement is erroneous, and was never made by
one who had explored the cliffs and seen the eggs of the
Guillemots on the ledges. The theory must have originated
through some learned book-maker rollincj and blowinf^j the
egg-shells of this bird about his study table ! Of the
absolute boat-loads of ef^grs of this bird which I have taken
in almost every part of its rocky home, I have never seen
one saved from falling over the cliffs by so turning on its
axis ; and I have been down the rocks many a time in half a
gale of wind. The birds in their hurry to leave the rocks
often knock their eggs over into the sea ; but as a rule the
eggs are laid on uneven ground in hollows of the shelves and
ledges, where they are absolutely safe. I have often been
amused, when exploring the cliffs for the eggs of this bird, to
see an old Guillemot pushing her egg from under her with
her feet as I approached, previous to quitting the rocks for
the sea beneath ; and it is more than probable that the
sitting-birds are very careful when they leave their eggs
voluntarily. At St. Kilda, too, the Guillemot breeds in
incredible numbers. The birds may be seen sitting in long

THE GUILLEMOT 277

rows on almost every precipice, tier above tier, and row
beyond row, all busy hatching their eggs, whilst the sea
below is swarming with Guillemots and other rock-haunting
species.

The Guillemot lays only a single Qgg, and if this is taken
she will lay another and another, but in no case does she
rear more than one young bird in a season. It would
require a chapter to fully describe the endless tints with
which the Guillemot's eggs are painted. The ground colours
are dark green, yellowish-green, reddish-brown, cream, white,
and pale blue, with every intermediate shade ; the markings,
which are distributed in bold irregular blotches, spots,
streaks, and zones, are composed of browns and grays and
pinks of every possible shade. Some eggs are much more
handsome than others ; and occasionally a few are met with
without markings of any kind. A beautiful variety is white,
intricately streaked and netted with pink ; others are green,
streaked in the same manner with yellow or light brown.
iSTo other egg with which I am acquainted varies in such an
extraordinary manner ; and a carefully selected and judici-
ously arranged series of these beautiful objects makes one of
the prettiest sights an oological cabinet can display. Vast
numbers of these eggs are gathered for food in many places,
especially at Flamborough, the Feme Islands, the Orkneys,
and St. Kilda. Both birds assist in incubating the egg ; and
as soon as the young Guillemot is hatched it is conveyed to
the water by its parent, and lives on the sea until it is able
to fly.

As soon as the breeding season is over the Guillemots
desert their lofty homes and betake themselves to the open
sea. They now very rarely visit the land, except when
driven in by unusually severe weather, when they often
congregate in thousands in the sheltered bays and other parts
of the coast. Xow the Guillemot becomes a regular nomad,

278 OUR RARER BIRDS

^Yallde^ing hundreds of miles away from its breeding-places,
following the shoals of fish up and down the wide waste of
waters, sleeping on the sea, rarely using its wings, and still
more rarely visiting the shore. The Guillemot never by any
chance flies over the land ; it never flies inland from the
rocks even for a few yards, but when disturbed unerringly
makes for the sea. It is not only a gregarious bird, but
moreover a very sociable one, and during the autumn and
winter months allows many other sea-birds to join its
gatherings.

AYe cannot well dismiss the Guillemot without giving a
passing glance to the variety of this bird known as the
Einged Guillemot. It only differs from the Common
Guillemot in having a narrow white band round the eye,
and which becomes a streak for some distance behind and
below it. It may be seen mixed with the Common
Guillemots, but it is decidedly a much rarer bird. Whether
it be a species or only an accidental variety of the Common
Guillemot I am not prepared to say, but certainly its
habits do not differ in the slightest perceptible manner, nor
does the colour of its eggs, from those of that bird.

At most of the breeding-places of the Common Guillemot
on the west coast of Scotland and in the north of Ireland,
the observer may be almost certain of meeting with the
Black Guillemot {Alca grylle). It is only about half the
size of that species, uniform black in colour, glossed with
green, and has white bars on the wings ; its legs and feet
are bright red. In most of its habits it very closely resembles
the Common Guillemot, but in its nesting economy is similar
to the Eazorbill. It breeds in the holes and crannies of the
cliffs, sometimes at a considerable distance from the water,
making no nest. I have taken its eggs in St. Kilda and in
several other parts of the Hebrides, but have never found
them to exceed two in number. They are white or very pale

THE GUILLEMOT 279

green in ground colour, beautifully blotched and spotted with
rich dark brown and gray. The observer will never find the
Black Guillemot in very large colonies, a few pairs being
sprinkled up and down the coast — a point in its economy
much different from the Eazorbill or the Common Guillemot.
After its moult in autumn the Black Guillemot is greatly
changed in appearance ; the head and neck are only mottled
with black, the lower back and many of the smaller wing
coverts and upper tail coverts are barred with white, and the
whole of the underparts is white.

Two other species of birds, most nearly related to the
Guillemots, here require some passing notice. The first of
these, the Eed-throated Diver {Colymhus scTitentrionalis), is a
bird of the Scottish lochs, and also breeds in the north-west of
Ireland. Its wild unearthly cry, like a human being in pain,
startles the naturalist, especially at dusk, as it sounds loudly
over the water in these wild mountain solitudes. Particularly
vociferous does this bird become at the approach of rain.
The Eed-throated Diver probably pairs for life, and is not
very gregarious or sociable even in winter — each pair keeping
to its own particular haunt. Upon the land it is clumsy
enough, its legs being placed too far back to enable it to walk
with ease ; but in the water it is almost as much at home as
a fish. When alarmed it gradually sinks itself lower and
lower into the water, until almost every part but the head
is concealed below the surface. This Diver breeds in May,
generally choosing a small island in its native loch, on which
it makes a slight and slovenly nest — a mere hollow, sparingly
lined with bits of dry herbage. Two eggs are laid, olive-
brown in ground colour, boldly spotted with very dark brown.
The sitting-bird is very wary, and its mate also is ever on the
alert to give alarm at the approach of danger, when the eggs
are left, the parent shuffling down a beaten track to the
water. Its food is almost exclusively composed of fish.

28o OUR RARER BIRDS

The Black-tliroated Diver {Colymhus ardicus) is a much
rarer species than the foregoing, and only breeds sparingly in
a few parts of the Highlands and the Western Isles. In
its habits, food, note, and manner of nesting it differs little
from its congeners. It makes rather a more substantial nest,
either a floating structure like a Grebe's, or a hollow at some
distance from the water's edge, neatly lined with bits of dead
herbage. It lays two eggs, similar to those of its ally, but
rather darker and browner in ground colour, and less profusely
spotted. Both these species of Diver wander far and wide
during winter, and then visit our southern seas in quest of
food, becoming much more oceanic in their habits at that
season. The Black-throated Diver is readily distinguished
by its purplish-black throat, which in the former bird is
reddish- chestnut.

THE LITTLE GEEBE

(Podiceps minor)

When wandering along the banks of the sluggish streams,
where the Avater-side is fringed with tall reeds, coarse sedgy
fjrass and flao-s, we often see a little dark brown bird swimmincr
quietly about, or catch a momentary glimpse of it as it dives
with great rapidity and pursues its way under water to a
hiding-place amongst the vegetation. This curious bird is
the Little Grebe. It is very skulking in its habits and often
overlooked. It prefers to frequent small ponds and quiet
pools in the corners of fields, and may often be seen in the
longj narrow reaches of stamant water at the bottom of
railway embankments, especially if there are plenty of reeds
and bulrushes to afford it the shelter which its retiring
nature needs. In many of its habits it closely resembles the
Moorhen. Like that bird it is a resident in this country, and
remains closely attached to its little pond right through
the year, unless a long-continued frost seals its feeding
grounds and compels it to wander away in quest of more
suitable haunts. I have known it then desert the inland
districts altogether and seek the brackish waters near the
coast, frequenting the drains and weedy backwaters. On
one occasion I met with several of these little birds on a
swift flowing stream, far away from their accustomed haunt,
which was frozen. At first I mistook them for Dippers, in
the dusk of the wintery afternoon, but easily identified them

282 OUR RARER BIRDS

when they took flight and displayed the white bar across
their wings. Many little Grebes come to our shores in
winter from more northern lands, migrating at night, and
they are sometimes caught in the flight-nets on the Wash, in
company with the Great-crested Grebe, their much larger
congener. These refugees from wintery storms rarely come
far inland, and I do not think many of them remain in this
country through the summer.

The Little Grebe is rarely seen on the land. Its true
home is the water, and it is almost as aquatic in its habits as
the fish themselves. You may sometimes see it run out of
the rushes and wander up and down the banks of the pool,
especially in early morning or in the dusk of evening ; but if
alarmed or disturbed, it runs with great speed into the nearest
cover, and you may wait for hours without seeing it venture
forth again. Sometimes, however, this little bird displays a
fearlessness quite at variance with its usual manner ; and I
have repeatedly watched it swimming quietly about the pool
as a railway train dashed by not twenty feet from where it
floated on the water. Although the feet of this bird are not
webbed, but furnished with lobes like those of the Coot or
the Phalarope, it can swim with perfect ease, and dive with
marvellous skill. It is also capable of running quickly
through the tall weeds, and threads its way between the
thick stems of the bulrushes with great speed, rarely if ever
allowing itself to be seen or flushed even by a dog. It is not
a noisy bird by any means, and its usual call- note is a low
and somewhat plaintive v:ed.

The food of the Little Grebe varies a £food deal, accordinoj to
the locality the bird may chance to frequent. In most districts
it catches small fish by diving after them in the water; and in-
sects and their larvae are eaten in abundance. It also picks the
various little snails from the stems of the herbao'e, or from the
mud at the bottom of the water, and surprises the tiny frogs

THE LITTLE GREBE 283

on the banks and in the shallows. The spawn of the frog
and of various kinds of fish is also eaten, and it occasionally
devours a few buds and shoots of herbaoe. On the coasts
and in the brackish waters near them it feeds largely on
shrimps, whilst in the running streams the larv?e of the
drake and caddisfly is frequently caught.

The Little Grebe breeds early, and rears several broods
in the year. If the weather is mild, we may begin to search
for its bulky nest amongst the reeds by the middle of April,
but in backward seasons it is of little use to go in quest of it
before the beginning of May. The Little Grebe usually
builds a large floating nest, which is best described as a mass
of aquatic rubbish, with a little cavity at the top, in which
the eggs are laid. Dead reeds and rushes, grass pulled up
by the roots, living and dead water weeds — all are massed
together in rude confusion ; but the hollow containing the
eggs is more neatly finished. Sometimes the nest is made
amongst the tall rank vegetation on the bank, at others it is
built between the bank and a dense thicket of reeds, while
yet again it is often at some distance from the shore, floating
on the edge of the tall flags and rushes. The nest usually
contains five eggs, but as likely as not only three or four — in
rarer cases as many as six. These when newly laid are pale
bluish -white, but soon become stained and dirty through
contact with the wet nest and the feet of the old birds.
They are rather pecidiar in shape, being almost as much
pointed at one end as the other, and the shell is rather coarse
in texture.

There is much of interest in the nesting economy of this
little bird. In the first place, when leaving its nest it always
carefully covers its eggs with bits of weed and rush, doing
this in some cases remarkably quickly. At a moment's
warning the hen will contrive to cover her eggs before leaving
them ; and she must be flushed from her nest very suddenly

284 OUR RARER BIRDS

indeed to be prevented from making this provision for their
safety. Grebe's eggs are very conspicuous objects, and often
lie in a very conspicuous nest, so that there can be no doubt
that this singular proceeding is of great benefit and saves
many eggs from discovery. The more time she has, the more
carefully does she complete the task of covering them, so that
in many cases the nest looks nothing more than a heap of
rubbish. Time after time you may visit her nest, and just
as surely will she strive to cover her precious eggs. Some-
times, by walking quietly up and peeping at her between the
reeds, you may see her busy in the operation picking bits of
material from the nest, and spreading them rapidly over the
eggs. If the weather chance to be windy, and the water
washes much, the old Grebes constantly keep adding fresh
material to their nest to prevent it from being carried away.
Both birds assist in hatching the eggs and tending the young
brood. Soon after the latter is hatched the tiny young
Grebes take to the water, where they soon dive and swim as
actively as their parents. They often visit the nest and sit
on it, whilst the old birds search for food for them ; and if
suddenly disturbed the mother bird will often take a nestling
under each of her wings and dive rapidly into the water with
them, rising up in a place of safety some distance away. The
young Grebes in their downy covering are beautiful little
creatures, black striped with brown on the upper parts,
nearly white below. It is a most charming sight to watch
a family of these birds sporting on the quiet pool, swimming
and diving, all unconscious of danger, several of the chicks
probably standing on the broad leaves of the water lilies, or
nestling close inshore amongst the vegetation on the banks.
In autumn the Little Grebe often gathers into small parties,
but is never very gregarious in its habits.

The Great-crested Grebe (Pocliceps cristatus), in spite of
continued persecution, still breeds in many parts of the

THE LITTLE GREBE 285

British Islands. It is more gregarious than the Little Grebe,
and shyer, otherwise very closely resembles it in all its habits.
It is seldom met with on small pools, but prefers to frequent
large lakes, and is especially partial to the open broads.
Where the bird is common, numbers of nests are made close
together. These are generally floating structures amongst the
reeds, made of rushes, flags, and aquatic vegetation of all
kinds. The eggs, from three to five in number, are similar to
those of the preceding species, but of course are almost double
the size. This handsome bird is distinsjuished from all the
other Grebes by its large size. Were it not for the lamentable
manner in which this poor bird is killed for the sake of its
downy plumage, there can be no doubt that its numbers
would soon increase, and its presence lend life and ornament
to many a now solitary rush-fringed pool. When will ladies
cease to follow the fashion of w^earing Grebe's and other
birds' skins for ornament ? — a practice wdiich costs so many
innocent lives every year, and robs so many wild scenes of
their fairest charm !

THE MANX SHEAEWATER

{Puffinus anglorum)

Far ont at sea when the evening's dusk is falling you may
often observe a dark-coloured bird with white under plumage
flit by just above the waves — another and another make their
appearance, and you soon find out that a party of Manx
Shearwaters have paid your vessel a passing call. They are
nocturnal birds for the most part, spending the hours of day-
light in their burrows, and coming out in the gloom to speed
across the frowning waters in quest of food. There is some-
thing very exciting about the appearance of this singular bird.
The noisy Gulls which have been playing about all day drop
slowly astern as the sun nears the west; the parties of
Eazorbills and Guillemots and PufiQns have sped away to
their distant breeding colonies ; and the wide waste of waters
seems unusually desolate and dreary as the night approaches,
and the evening breeze fluttering in the sails and through the
rigging is the only sound that breaks the oppressive stillness.
But the hour of the Manx Shearwater's ghostly revelry has
come ; he holds high carnival over the waste of gray waters,
flitting about in most erratic manner in his wild impetuous
course, following the curve of every wave, dipping down into
the hollows, where he is almost invisible, and then mounting
the foamy crests, where you catch a brief glimpse of his
hurried movements.

I well remember how numerous these birds were on the

THE MANX SHEARWATER 287

night of my voyage to St. Kilda. Our smack, the Robert
Hadden, had lain becalmed in the Sound of Harris all day,
but at night we caught the breeze, and were soon bowling
along in grand style to the greatest bird bazaar our islands
can boast. About midway across we met with the Shear-
waters, and their gambols in the gloom were most interesting.
AVe must have passed hundreds of birds busy feeding
above the restless waves — birds all the way from their
grand colony on St. Kilda; but a flight of fifty miles is
nothing to a species of such rapid powerful wing. Not a bird
was heard to utter a sound of any description, though on
shore they are noisy enough, as we shall presently find when
we visit their breeding-places. The Shearwaters cease their
ocean flights at dawn, and hurry off on rapid wing to their
retreats. The Shearwaters are the Swifts of the ocean — their
long wings never seem to tire ; following the curves of the
mighty waves they search hundreds of miles of sea almost
every night of their lives. They are the night birds of the
watery wastes, coming out with dusk and going home with
dawn.

St. Kilda is the grand headquarters of the British Shear-
waters, and there the present species is one of the commonest
of birds. Its great stronghold is on the island of Soay, although
many pairs are scattered up and down the grassy cliffs of Doon
and St. Kilda proper. For the greater part of the year the
Shearwater's island is absolutely inaccessible to man. It rises
sheer up from a troubled sea, save in one corner where the
rocks are broken and form a bit of rugged beach, over which
the tremendous Atlantic swell is almost constantly breaking.
The sole landing-place is in the narrow strait between the
island and St. Kilda, in which several stacks of rock rear their
hoary peaks from the water, birds in thousands clustering on
them in absolute safety. The island is covered with greenest
turf, and the soft soil is well adapted to the needs of the

OUR RARER BIRDS

Manx Shearwater. The natives of St. Kilda say that this
bird is one of the first to arrive in spring and one of the last
to leave in autumn ; although I strongly suspect it never quits
the islands absolutely, but always returns there to sleep the
year throughout. In all its habits the Manx Shearwater is
nocturnal, and at the approach of darkness it becomes very
garrulous, as if engaged in noisy converse previous to setting
out on its nightly wanderings. Its note puts you in mind of
the Eing Dove's mellow call, and is aptly expressed by the
syllables kitty-coo-roo, hitty-coo-roo. This note is uttered when
the bird is sitting in its burrow, or when standing at the
entrance, and when flying up and down the island, but never,
so far as I can determine, when over the water. The Shear-
waters betray their whereabouts by loud persistent cries,
which, by the way, are only uttered at night, and that is the
time the St. Kildans go in quest of this singular bird. On
some quiet night in summer, when the restless sea is a little
calmer than usual, the natives get on shore and harry the
Shearwater's colony. Amongst the babel of cries the men
proceed to work, knocking down many birds as they fly to
and fro in the gloom, and dragging many more from their
burrows. I have known several men take as many as four
hundred of these birds in a single night, besides as many eggs
as the boat could safely carry without being swamped in the
rough treacherous seas that beat round this perilous coast.

The Manx Shearwater is a rather late breeder, and its eggs
are seldom laid before the end of May. I have taken fresh
eggs of this bird in the middle of June, as well as eggs highly
incubated. I shall never forget my visit to the breeding-place
of this bird at St. Kilda. I have taken many scattered nests
of this Shearwater up and down the various western coasts,
but never before had I seen it so common as here. We
climbed the hills behind the little village, skirted the beautiful
glen beyond them, and at last found ourselves on the summit

THE MANX SHEARWATER 289

of the cliffs on the south-west coast of this interesting island.
The sea was roaring and seething like a caldron below this
mighty wall of rocks, and the spray was dashing in showers
up the cliffs and over the broken boulders at their base
as the bioj waves broke over them. A few Fulmars were to
be seen here and there amongst the grassy parts of the cliffs,
whilst in the rocks Guillemots, Eazorbills, and Puffins sat in
considerable numbers, and now and then Kittiwakes and Great
Black- backed Gulls flew along the face of the precipice.
Barefoot we climbed down the rocks to within a few hundred
feet of the sea, and finally arrived at the place where the
Shearwaters rear their young. The birds had made their
burrows in the steep grassy parts of the cliff, where a foot-
liold could only be obtained with difficulty, and where the
least false step would hurl the unfortunate climber into
eternity. The Manx Shearwater burrows in the ground just
like a Puffin, and the holes in some cases extend for a very
long distance, often far under rocks where it is impossible to
get at the nest. At the mouth of all the holes which were
tenanted there was a considerable heap of birds' droppings.
Both birds assist in scratching out the burrow, and many
holes are begun and deserted for no apparent reason. Some
burrows were four or five feet in length, others were nearly
twice that distance. At the end of the hole the Shearwaters
make a scanty nest of dry grass, on which the female lays
her single white ^gg. Some holes contained an ^gg and no
bird, others contained the pair of birds but no Qgg. When
taken in the hand the birds made little effort to escape, and
when finally released they flew away in a very rapid but
erratic manner, as if dazed by the brilliant sunshine. No
birds were to be seen, although the holes in plenty all around
betokened an abundance of nests. The Shearwater's activity
begins with evening, and were you to visit their colony then
the scene would be stirring and animated enough. This bird

19

290 OUR RARER BIRDS

only rears a single nestling in the year, which remains in the
burrow until able to fly. Both parents sit on the egg, but
the female by far the most frequently. If the single egg be
taken the birds lay another, as is the case with most species.
The St. Kildans obtain quantities of oil from the Manx
Shearwater, and its egg is a favourite article of food with
them, as is also the bird itself. The food of this bird consists
largely if not entirely of cuttlefish and sorrel, w^hich latter
substance it appears to eat in great quantities to counteract
the injurious effects of its fatty food. It is very probable
that the Shearwater preys upon cuttlefish of a different
species to that taken by the Fulmar, as the remains in its
stomach are much darker than those in the latter bird. The
Shearwater will not refuse any scraps that may be thrown
overboard, especially those of an oily nature.

THE rULMAE PETEEL

{Fulmarus glacialis)
The Fulmar Petrel is one of the most interestino- birds found

o

in British Seas, but is exceedingly local during the season
of reproduction. Only one locality in all the wide extent of
coast and rocky isle round Britain is favoured with the
Fulmar's presence, and that is the remote St. Kilda — the
grand home of so many sea-fowl. Here the Fulmar is a
resident, but the natives will tell you that it deserts the
islands to a bird from the middle of October to the middle
of November, probably when it is moulting. Like its
relation, the Albatross, it spends much of its time at sea,
wandering far and wide over the trackless waters, even
penetrating to the uttermost polar regions, where it is the
hardy whaler's constant companion. The Fulmar therefore
is only familiar to those whose business or pleasure takes
them to the mighty ocean. Violent gales sometimes drive
this bird to land, where I have repeatedly known it fall a
victim to the treacherous flight-nets. It much resembles a
Gull when at sea, and beats about in the same lazy manner,
searching for any food that may chance to float upon the
surface. The Fulmar is especially fond of whale-blubber,
its powerful hooked beak readily tearing it to pieces. Cuttle-
fish are its principal food, which it varies and regulates with
sorrel, as do most birds of this order. The Fulmar also picks
up many scraps of refuse thrown from ships, which it follows

292 OUR RARER BIRDS

for days. Small nuts are now and then taken from the
inside of the Fulmar, picked up by the bird from the Gulf-
stream, which has conveyed them from distant equatorial
regions. The Fulmar swims lightly and buoyantly, and the
waves are usually its only cradle. It is much more diurnal in
its habits than the Shearwater and the other species of Petrel
whose habits we are about to examine.

For the purpose of studying the habits and economy of