Chapter II: Part 2

The largest British song bird, distinguished from the Song Thrush not only by its superior size, but by having white under wing-coverts, and the whole of the under part of the body buffish-white, spotted with black. It is a generally diffused bird, and is known by various local names; in the west of England its popular name is Holm Thrush, or Holm Screech, derived most probably, not, as Yarrell surmises, from its resorting to the oak in preference to other trees, but from its feeding on the berries of the holly, or holm; the title 'Screech' being given to it from its jarring note when angry or alarmed, which closely resembles the noise made by passing the finger-nail rapidly along the teeth of a comb. Its French name, 'Draine', and German, 'Schnarre', seem to be descriptive of the same harsh '_churr_'. In Wales, it has from its quarrelsome habits acquired the name of Penn y llwyn, or, master of the coppice. Another of its names, Throstle Cock, expresses its alliance with the Thrushes, and its daring nature; and another Storm Cock, indicates 'not that it delights in storms more than in fine weather, but that nature has taught it to pour forth its melody at a time of the year when the bleak winds of winter roar through the leafless trees'. The song of the Mistle Thrush is loud, wild, and musical, Waterton calls it 'plaintive', Knapp 'harsh and untuneful'. I must confess that I agree with neither. This note, generally the earliest of the Spring sounds (for the Redbreast's song belongs essentially to winter), is to my ear full of cheerful promise amounting to confidence--a song of exultation in the return of genial weather. The bird sings generally perched on the topmost branch of some lofty tree, and there he remains for hours together out-whistling the wind and heeding not the pelting rain. This song, however, is not continuous, but broken into passages of a few notes each, by which characteristic it may be distinguished alike from that of the Thrush or the Blackbird, even when mellowed by distance to resemble either. The Mistletoe Thrush is essentially a tree-loving bird. During winter its food mainly consists of berries, among which those of the Mountain Ash and Yew have the preference, though it also feeds on those of the Hawthorn, Ivy, Juniper, and the strange plant from which it derives its name.[1] Towards other birds it is a very tyrant, selfish and domineering in the extreme; to such a degree, indeed, that even when it has appeased its appetite it will allow no other bird to approach the tree which it has appropriated for its feeding ground. I have seen it take possession of a Yew-tree laden with berries, and most mercilessly drive away, with angry vociferations and yet more formidable buffets, every other bird that dared to come near. Day after day it returned, until the tree was stripped of every berry, when it withdrew and appeared no more.

As soon as the unfrozen earth is penetrable by its beak, it adds to its diet such worms and grubs as it can discover; and, if it be not belied, it is given to plunder the nests of other birds of their eggs and young. It may be on this account that Magpies, Jays, and other large woodland birds, robbers themselves, entertain an instinctive dislike towards it. Certainly these birds are its better enemies; but in the breeding season it eludes their animosity by quitting the woods, and resorting to the haunts of man. Its harsh screech is now rarely heard, for its present object is not defiance, but immunity from danger. Yet it takes no extraordinary pains to conceal its nest. On the contrary, it usually places this where there is little or no foliage to shadow it, in a fork between two large boughs of an apple, pear, or cherry tree, sometimes only a few feet from the ground, and sometimes twenty feet or more. The nest is a massive structure, consisting of an external basket-work of twigs, roots, and lichens, within which is a kind of bowl of mud containing a final lining of grass and roots. The bird is an early builder. It generally lays five eggs and feeds its young on snails, worms, and insects. The range of the Mistle Thrush extends as far as the Himalayas. In Great Britain it is a resident species.

[1] That this thrush feeds on the berries of the mistletoe was
stated by Yarrell, but it is not now generally believed to
be a fact.

Missel Thrush Song Thrush

Redwing

Fieldfare

[_face p. 2_]]

Blackbird [M] _imm._

Blackbird [F] [M]

Ring Ouzel [M] [F]]

THE SONG THRUSH
TURDUS MÚSICUS

Upper parts brown tinged with olive; wing-coverts edged and
tipped with reddish yellow; cere yellowish; throat white in
the middle, without spots; sides of neck and breast reddish
yellow with triangular dark brown spots; abdomen and flanks
pure white with oval dark brown spots; under wing-coverts pale
orange yellow; bill and feet greyish brown. Length, eight
inches and a half, breadth thirteen inches. Eggs blue with a
few black spots mostly at the larger end.

The Thrush holds a distinguished place among British birds, as contributing, perhaps, more than any other to the aggregate charms of a country life. However near it may be, its song is never harsh, and heard at a distance its only defect is, that it is not nearer. It possesses, too, the charm of harmonizing with all other pleasant natural sounds. If to these recommendations we add that the Thrush frequents all parts of England, and resorts to the suburban garden as well as the forest and rocky glen, we think we may justly claim for it the distinction among birds, of being the last that we would willingly part with, not even excepting its allowed master in song himself, the Nightingale. Three notes are often repeated: Did he do it? Shut the gate, Kubelik.

The food of the Thrush during winter consists of worms, insects, and snails. The first of these it picks up or draws out from their holes, in meadows and lawns; the others it hunts for among moss and stones, in woods and hedges, swallowing the smaller ones whole, and extracting the edible parts of large snails by dashing them with much adroitness against a stone. When it has once discovered a stone adapted to its purpose, it returns to it again and again, so that it is not uncommon in one's winter walks to come upon a place thickly strewn with broken shells, all, most probably, the 'chips' of one workman. As spring advances, it adds caterpillars to its bill of fare, and as the summer fruits ripen, it attacks them all in succession; strawberries, gooseberries, currants, raspberries, cherries, and, on the Continent, grapes suit its palate right well; and, when these are gone, pears and apples, whether attached to the tree or lying on the ground, bear, too often for the gardener, the marks of its beak on their ripest side. During all this period it relieves the monotony of its diet by an occasional repast on animal food; as, indeed, in winter it alternates its food whenever opportunity occurs, by regaling itself on wild berries. Yet, despite the mischief which it perpetrates in our gardens by devouring and spoiling much of the choicest fruit--for your thrush is an epicure, and tastes none but the ripest and best--the service which it renders as a devourer of insects more than compensates for all. So the gardener, if a wise man, will prefer the scare-crow to the gun, the protecting net to that which captures.

I know two adjoining estates in Yorkshire. On one the gardener shoots blackbirds and thrushes in fruit time. On the other they are protected. The latter yields always more fruit than the former.

The Thrush holds a high rank, too, among birds as an architect. Its nest is usually placed in a thorn-bush, a larch or young fir-tree, a furze-bush, an apple or pear tree, or an ordinary hedge, at no great elevation from the ground, and not concealed with much attempt at art. Indeed, as it begins to build very early, it is only when it selects an evergreen that it has much chance of effectually hiding its retreat. The nest externally is composed of feather-moss, intermatted with bents, twigs, and small roots, and terminates above in a thicker rim of the same materials. Thus far the bird has displayed her skill as basket-maker. The outer case is succeeded by a layer of cow-dung, applied in small pellets, and cemented with saliva. The builder, with a beak for her only trowel, has now completed the mason's work. But she has yet to show her skill as a plasterer; this she does by lining her cup-like chamber with stucco made from decayed wood, pulverized and reduced to a proper consistence, kneading it with her beak. With this for her sole instrument, except her round breast, to give to the whole the requisite form, she has constructed a circular bowl sufficiently compact to exclude air and water, as true and as finely finished as if it had been moulded on a potter's wheel, or turned on a lathe.

The Thrush lays four or five eggs, and rears several broods in the season, building a new nest for each brood. During incubation the female is very tame, and will suffer herself to be approached quite closely without deserting her post. In the vicinity of houses, where she is familiar with the human form, she will even take worms and other food from the hand.

THE REDWING
TURDUS ILÍACUS

Upper plumage olive brown; lore black and yellow; a broad
white streak above the eye; lower plumage white, with numerous
oblong dusky spots, middle of the abdomen without spots; under
wing-coverts and flanks bright orange red; bill dusky; feet
grey. Length eight inches, breadth thirteen inches. Eggs
greenish blue mottled with dark brownish red spots.

The Redwing (called in France _Mauvis_, whence an old name for the Song-thrush, 'Mavis') is the smallest of the Thrushes with which we are familiar. It is, like the Fieldfare, a bird of passage, reaching us from the north about the same time with the Woodcock, in October. It resembles the Song-thrush more than any other bird of the family, but may readily be distinguished even at some distance by the light stripe over the eye, and its bright red under wing-coverts. In some parts of France it is much sought after by the fowler, its flesh being considered by many superior to that of the Quail and Woodcock. It owes perhaps some of this unfortunate distinction to the fact of its arriving in France in time to fatten on grapes, for in this country it is often too lean to be worth cooking. Being impatient of cold, it is less abundant in the north of England than the south; but even in the mild climates of Devon and Cornwall, where it congregates in large numbers, it is so much enfeebled by unusually severe weather, as to be liable to be hunted down by boys with sticks, and a Redwing starved to death used to be no unfrequent sight in the course of a winter's ramble. As long as the ground remains neither frozen nor snowed up, the open meadows may be seen everywhere spotted with these birds, but when the earth becomes so hard as to resist their efforts in digging up worms and grubs, they repair to the cliffs which border the sea-coast, where some sunny nook is generally to be found, to woods in quest of berries, or to the watercourses of sheltered valleys. At these times they are mostly silent, their only note, when they utter any, being simple and harsh; but in France they are said to sing towards the end of February, and even in this country they have been known to perch on trees in mild weather, and execute a regular song. Towards the end of April or beginning of May, they take their departure northwards, where they pass the summer, preferring woods and thickets in the vicinity of marshes. Mr. Hewitson states that while he was travelling through Norway 'the Redwing was but seldom seen, and then perched upon the summit of one of the highest trees, pouring forth its delightfully wild note. It was always very shy, and upon seeing our approach would drop suddenly from its height, and disappear among the underwood. Its nest, which we twice found with young ones (although our unceasing endeavours to find its eggs were fruitless), was similar to that of the Fieldfare. The Redwing is called the Nightingale of Norway, and well it deserves the name', and Turdus Ilíacus because it frequented in such great numbers the environs of Ilion-Troy.

THE FIELDFARE
TURDUS PILÁRIS

Head, nape, and lower part of the back dark ash colour; upper
part of the back and wing-coverts chestnut brown; lore black;
a white rim above the eyes; throat and breast yellowish red
with oblong dark spots; feathers on the flanks spotted with
black and edged with white; abdomen pure white without spots;
under wing-coverts white, beak brown, tipped with black.
Length ten inches, breadth seventeen inches. Eggs light blue,
mottled all over with dark red brown spots.

The Fieldfare is little inferior in size to the Missel Thrush, with which, however, it is not likely to be confounded even at a distance, owing to the predominant bluish tinge of its upper plumage. In the west of England, where the Thrush is called the Grey-bird, to distinguish it from its ally the Blackbird, the Fieldfare is known by the name of Bluebird, to distinguish it from both. It is a migratory bird, spending its summer, and breeding, in the north of Europe, and paying us an annual visit in October or November. But it is impatient of cold, even with us, for in winters of unusual severity it migrates yet farther south, and drops in upon our meadows a second time in the spring, when on its way to its summer quarters. Fieldfares are eminently gregarious; not only do they arrive at our shores and depart from them in flocks, but they keep together as long as they remain, nor do they dissolve their society on their return to the north, but build their nests many together in the same wood. In this country, they are wild and cautious birds, resorting during open weather to watercourses and damp pastures, where they feed on worms and insects, and when frost sets in betaking themselves to bushes in quest of haws and other berries; or in very severe weather resorting to the muddy or sandy sea-shore. They frequent also commons on which the Juniper abounds, the berries of this shrub affording them an abundant banquet. Unlike the Blackbird and Thrush, they rarely seek for food under hedges, but keep near the middle of fields, as if afraid of being molested by some concealed enemy. When alarmed, they either take refuge in the branches of a high tree in the neighbourhood, or remove altogether to a distant field. The song of the Fieldfare I have never heard: Toussenel doubts whether it has any; Yarrell describes it as 'soft and melodious'; Bechstein as 'a mere harsh disagreeable warble'; while a writer in the _Zoologist_ who heard one sing during the mild January of 1846, in Devon, describes it as 'combining the melodious whistle of the Blackbird with the powerful voice of the Mistle Thrush'. Its call-note is short and harsh, and has in France given it the provincial names of Tia-tia and Tchatcha. This latter name accords with Macgillivray's mode of spelling its note, _yack chuck_, harsh enough, no one will deny. 'Our attention was attracted by the harsh cries of several birds which we at first supposed must be Shrikes, but which afterwards proved to be Fieldfares. We were now delighted by the discovery of several of their nests, and were surprised to find them (so contrary to the habits of other species of the genus with which we are acquainted) breeding in society. Their nests were at various heights from the ground, from four to thirty or forty feet or upwards; they were, for the most part, placed against the trunk of the Spruce Fir; some were, however, at a considerable distance from it, upon the upper surface and towards the smaller end of the thicker branches: they resembled most nearly those of the Ring Ouzel; the outside is composed of sticks and coarse grass and weeds gathered wet, matted with a small quantity of clay, and lined with a thick bed of fine dry grass: none of them yet contained more than three eggs, although we afterwards found that five was more commonly the number than four, and that even six was very frequent; they are very similar to those of the Blackbird, and even more so to the Ring Ouzel. The Fieldfare is the most abundant bird in Norway, and is generally diffused over that part which we visited, building, as already noticed, in society; two hundred nests or more being frequently seen within a very small space.' Oddly enough two hundred was just the number of a colony of nests in Thüringen on the estate of Baron von Berlepsch, which were those of Fieldfares he had induced to come by trimming the trunks of a long row of Black Poplar trees so as to afford good sites for the nests. The present editor visited these in 1906. Some few instances are on record of the Fieldfare breeding in this country, but these are exceptional. In general they leave us in April and May, though they have been observed as late as the beginning of June.

THE BLACKBIRD
TURDUS MERULA

_Male_--plumage wholly black; bill and orbits of the eyes
orange yellow; feet black. _Female_--upper plumage sooty
brown; throat pale brown with darker spots; breast reddish
brown passing into dark ash brown; bill and legs dusky. Length
ten inches; breadth sixteen inches. Eggs greenish grey,
spotted and speckled with light red brown.

With his glossy coat and yellow beak the Blackbird is a handsomer bird than the Thrush; his food is much the same: he builds his nest in similar places; he is a great glutton when gooseberries are ripe, and his rich mellow song is highly inspiriting. But he is suspicious and wary; however hard pressed he may be by hunger, you will rarely see him hunting for food in the open field. He prefers the solitude and privacy of 'the bush'. In a furze-brake, a coppice, a wooded watercourse, or a thick hedgerow, he chooses his feeding ground, and allows no sort of partnership. Approach his haunt, and if he simply mistrusts you, he darts out flying close to the ground, pursues his course some twenty yards and dips again into the thicket, issuing most probably on the other side, and ceasing not until he has placed what he considers a safe distance between himself and his enemy. But with all his cunning he fails in prudence; it is not in his nature to steal away silently. If he only suspects that all is not right, he utters repeatedly a low cluck, which seems to say, 'This is no place for me, I must be off'. But if he is positively alarmed, his loud vociferous cry rings out like a bell, informing all whom it may concern that 'danger is at hand, and it behoves all who value their safety to fly'. Most animals understand the cry in this sense, and catch the alarm. Many a time has the deer-stalker been disappointed of a shot, who, after traversing half a mile on his hands and knees between rocks and shrubs, has just before the critical moment of action started some ill-omened Blackbird. Out bursts the frantic alarum, heard at a great distance; the intended victim catches the alarm, once snuffs the air to discover in what direction the foe lies concealed, and bounds to a place of security. A somewhat similar note, not, however, indicative of terror, real or imagined, is uttered when the bird is about to retire for the night, and this at all seasons of the year. He would merit, therefore, the title of 'Bellman of the woods'. Neither of these sounds is to be confounded with the true _song_ of the Blackbird. This is a full, melodious, joyful carol, many of the notes being remarkable for their flute-like tone--'the whistling of the Blackbird'--and varying greatly in their order of repetition; though I am inclined to believe that most birds of this kind have a favourite passage, which they repeat at intervals many times during the same performance.

PLATES TO BLACKBIRD.

1. A nest and eggs.

2. The young just emerged from the egg and an egg (June 1).

3. The day after hatching (June 2).

4. Four days later (June 4).

5. Sixth day out (June 5).

6. Ninth day out.

7. Eleventh day out.

8. Fourteenth day out.

We would draw attention to the extraordinary size of the bird
just out as compared with the egg. On the sixth day the
feather shafts with the tips of the encased feathers sticking
out of them are quite formed, although two days earlier they
were hardly more than indicated. On the ninth day feathers
nearly cover the whole of the skin--on the eleventh day they
do this completely. In No. 8 the bird was drawn after it had
flown from the nest.

Blackbirds Nest and Eggs Just Hatched.

Day after.

4th Day.

6th Day.

9th Day.

11th Day.

Blackbird, 14th day.

[_face p. 8._]]

Stonechat [F] [M]

Whinchat Black Redstart [F] [M]

Redstart [M] [F]]

The song of the Blackbird does not meet the approbation of bird-fanciers: 'It is not destitute of melody,' says Bechstein, 'but it is broken by noisy tones, and is agreeable only in the open country'. The art of teaching the Blackbird is of old date, for we find in Pepys' Diary, May 22, 1663, the following passage: 'Rendall, the house carpenter at Deptford, hath sent me a fine Blackbird, which I went to see. He tells me he was offered twenty shillings for him as he came along, he do so whistle. 23d. Waked this morning between four and five by my Blackbird, which whistled as well as ever I heard any; only it is the beginning of many tunes very well, but then leaves them and goes no further.'

The song of the Blackbird is occasionally heard during the mild days of winter, but it is not until spring sets in that it can be said to be in full, uninterrupted song. It then repairs to some thick bush or hedge, especially at the corner of a pond, and builds its nest, a bulky structure, the framework of which is composed of twigs and roots; within is a thin layer of mud lined with small fibrous roots, bents, and moss. The nest contains four or five eggs, and the young birds are fed with worms. In the breeding season Blackbirds are far more venturesome than at any other time, as they frequently select a garden in which to build their nest, with the double object, perhaps, of procuring plenty of worms for their nestlings, and of launching them when fledged where they will have great facilities for regaling themselves on summer fruits. In such localities the appearance of a cat near their nest greatly excites their wrath. From being timid they become very courageous, scolding with all their might, darting down so near as almost to dash in her face, and generally ending by compelling her to beat a retreat.

The female Blackbird differs materially from the male, its plumage being of a dingy brown hue, the breast light and spotted, the beak dark brown with yellowish edges. White and pied specimens of both sexes are occasionally met with. In a district of France not far from Paris they are very numerous, and here the title to a certain estate used to be kept up by the annual presentation of a white Blackbird to the lord of the manor. Large flocks from the Continent visit us in the autumn and winter.

THE RING OUZEL
TURDUS TORQUATUS

Plumage black edged with greyish white; a large
crescent-shaped pure white spot on the throat; bill and legs
dusky. _Female_ with the gorget smaller and tinged with red
and grey, and the rest of the plumage greyer. Length ten
inches. Eggs greenish white, spotted with reddish brown and
grey.

Ring Ouzel is hardly an appropriate name for this bird; for in reality it does not wear a ring round its neck, but a white gorget on its breast, the contrast between which and its black plumage is very striking. It frequents the mountainous parts of Scotland and hilly parts of Derbyshire, and other wild parts where moors and hills are. Though never so abundant as the Blackbird and Thrush are in the plains, it is far from uncommon. It is a migratory bird, arriving in this country in April, and returning to its southern winter quarters--Corsica and other islands of the Mediterranean--early in autumn; not so early, however, as to miss the vintage season of the south of Europe. In summer it travels as far north as Sweden and Norway, where, on the authority of Mr. Hewitson, it is often seen 'enlivening the most bleak and desolate islands with its sweet song. It shares with the Redwing the name of Nightingale, and often delighted us in our midnight visits amongst the islands.' Its habits and food while it remains with us are very similar to those of the Blackbird, and its nest, generally built among stones and bushes, near the ground, is constructed of the same materials with the nest of that bird. Towards the end of their sojourn in Britain, Ring Ouzels descend to the level countries, and are not unfrequently met with in gardens, whither they repair for the sake of feeding on fruit and berries. In form and movements the Ring Ouzel is a more elegantly shaped bird than the Blackbird.

THE WHEATEAR (STONE-SMATCH)[2]
SAXÍCOLA OENANTHÉ

Upper parts, in autumn reddish brown, in spring bluish grey;
wings and wing-coverts, centre and extremity of the tail, legs
and feet, bill and area which comprises the nostrils, eyes and
ears, black; base and lower portion of the side of the tail
pure white; the chin, forehead, stripe over the eyes, and
under parts are also white, and in autumn the tail-feathers
are also tipped with white. _Female_--upper parts ash-brown,
tinged with yellow; stripe over the eyes dingy; all the
colours less bright. Length six and a half inches; breadth
twelve inches. Eggs pale bluish green.

During a considerable portion of its stay with us, open downs near the sea are the favourite resort of this lively bird, to which it repairs from its transmarine winter quarters towards the second week of March. Here it may be seen for several weeks flitting from rock to rock, and occasionally soaring to the height of about twenty yards into the air, warbling from time to time its pleasant song, now aloft, and now restlessly perched on a rock, or bank, or low stone wall, calling _chack-chack_--and making itself all the more welcome that few others among our summer visitants have as yet recovered their voices. We need not suppose that Wheatears prolong their stay on the coast in order to rest after their voyage. More probably they make marine insects (for these are abundant even in early spring) the principal portion of their food, and are taught, by the same instinct which guided them across the sea, to remain where their wants will be fully supplied until land insects have emerged from their winter quarters. As the season advances many of them proceed inland, and repair to barren districts, whether mountainous or lowland, where they may enjoy a considerable expanse without any great admixture of trees. A wide common studded with blocks of stone, a rabbit-warren or sloping upland, is likely to be more or less thickly peopled by these shy birds. Shy we term them, because, disposed as they are to be social among themselves (especially in spring and autumn), they are with respect to other birds most exclusive. Travelling through the waste lands of England, one may sometimes go on for miles and see no winged creatures but an occasional Wheatear, which, with dipping flight, made conspicuous by the snow-white spot at the base of its tail, shoots ahead of us some thirty or forty yards, alights on a stone, and, after a few uneasy upward and downward movements of its tail, starts off again to repeat the same manuvre, until we begin to wonder what tempts it to stray away so far from home. It does not ordinarily sing during these excursions, but utters its occasional note, very different from its spring song. It builds its nest of grass, moss, and leaves, and lines it with hair or wool, selecting some very secret spot on the ground, a deserted rabbit-burrow or cavity under a rock, where, beyond the reach of any but the most cunning marauder, it lays five or six eggs. Early in August, when the young are fully fledged, the scattered colonies of Wheatears assemble for emigration on open downs near the sea. We have seen a good many of them on the sandy coast of Norfolk and of North Hales; but it is on the extensive downs of Sussex that they collect in the largest numbers, not in flocks, but in parties of six or eight; each party perhaps constituting a family. They here retain their shy habits of flying off at the approach of a human being, and are often seen to drop suddenly, where they may remain concealed from sight behind a stone, furze-bush or bank. The shepherds and others, whose vocation lies on the downs, used to take advantage of the habit of these birds to conceal themselves, and construct a multitude of simple but efficacious traps in which they capture large numbers. The method which they adopted was to cut out from the sward an oblong piece of turf about the size of a brick, which they inverted over the hole from which it was taken so as to form a cross. Beneath this are placed two running nooses of horsehair, in which the poor bird, when it takes refuge in one of the open ends of the hole for concealment, is easily snared. The birds being in fine condition at this season--having, in fact, fattened themselves previously to undertaking their long sea voyage--are highly prized as a dainty article of food. It was formerly the custom for persons who wanted a dish of Wheatears to supply themselves from the traps, placing a penny in every hole from which they took a bird; but afterwards the influx of visitors to the neighbouring watering-places so much enhanced their value, that the shepherds allowed no such interference. We once tried the experiment of releasing a bird and depositing the penny-piece in the trap, when, from a neighbouring eminence, we were assailed with such a torrent of abuse, that we declined repeating the experiment. In September, all who have escaped the sportsman and fowler wing their way to southern lands. It is thought that the autumnal flocks are partially composed of birds on their way from high latitudes, which stop to recruit their strength on the South-downs previous to final emigration.

[2] Stone-smatch in Yorkshire--from the Saxon, Steinschmätzer
in German.

THE WHINCHAT
PRATÍNCOLA RUBÉTRA

Upper plumage dusky brown, edged with reddish yellow; over the
eye a broad white streak; throat and sides of the neck white;
neck and breast bright yellowish red; a large white spot on
the wings and base of the tail; extremity of the latter and
the whole of the two central feathers dusky brown; abdomen and
flanks yellowish white. _Female_--yellowish white wherever the
_male_ is pure white; the white spot on the wings smaller; the
red parts dingy. Length five inches; breadth nine inches. Eggs
bluish green, often minutely speckled with light brownish red.

A great deal that we have said of the Stonechat, will apply equally to the Whinchat, as the two birds much resemble each other in character, size, and habits. There is this difference, however, between them, that a considerable number of Stonechats remain in Britain during the winter, whereas the Whinchats, almost to a bird, leave our shores in the autumn. The latter is by no means so common, and is rarely seen except in wild places where the shrub is abundant from which it derives its name of Whinchat, or Furzechat. For a small bird to have black legs is, it seems, considered in France an indication of peculiar delicacy of flesh. Both of these birds, therefore, notwithstanding their diminutive size, are much sought after for the table. Both are of restless habits, delighting to perch on the summit of a furze-bush, where they keep the tail in constant motion, occasionally spring into the air after an insect, and then dart off with a dipping flight to another post of advantage. They repeat the call of ü-_tick_! and their short and simple song, both while at rest and on the wing; but they are not musical, and 'their flesh is generally more esteemed than their song.' The Whinchat may be distinguished at a considerable distance by the white streak over the eye. Both nest and eggs of the two species are very similar.

THE STONECHAT
PRATÍNCOLA RUBÍCOLA

Head, throat, bill and legs, black; sides of the neck near the
wing, tertial wing-coverts and rump, white; breast bright
chestnut-red, shaded into yellowish white towards the tail;
feathers of the back, wings and tail, black, with reddish
brown edges. _Female_--feathers of the head and upper parts
dusky brown, edged with yellowish red; throat black, with
small whitish and reddish spots; less white in the wings and
tail; the red of the breast dull. Length five and a quarter
inches; breadth eight and a half inches. Eggs pale blue, the
larger end often faintly speckled with reddish brown.

We can scarcely pass through a furze-brake during the spring and summer months, without having the presence of the Stonechat almost forced on our notice. I am acquainted with no small bird whose habits are more marked, or more easily observed. Not even does the Skylark build its nest more invariably on the ground, and 'soaring sings, and singing soars', than does the Stonechat build its nest in a furze-bush, and perch on the topmost twigs of shrubs. In the breeding season, too, it seems not to wander far from its home: we know therefore where a pair are to be found at any time; and they allow us to approach so close to them, that we can readily distinguish them by the tints of their plumage.

The nest of the pair may be within a few yards of the spot on which we are standing; but the exact locality no one knows, nor is likely to know but itself. The male is a beautiful creature, with a black head, red breast, and several patches of pure white on its wings, the female much more sober in her attire. Their purpose is evidently to distract our attention from their nest. One is clinging to the top of a Juniper, where he fidgets about uttering his _twit-click-click_, which you can easily imitate by whistling once sharply and knocking two stones together twice in rapid succession. The other is perched on the top spine of a furze-bush--they are aspiring birds and must settle on the _top_ of whatever they alight on, be it only a dock. Now one dips down and is lost for a few seconds, to appear again, however, directly on the summit of another bush; now they are on our right hand, now on our left; now before us, and then behind. Are they describing a circle round their nest for a centre, or are they trying to trick us into the belief that they are better worth caring for than their young ones, and may be caught if we will only be silly enough to chase them? I do not know; but whatever their thoughts may be, _we_ certainly are in them, and as certainly they are not delighted at our presence. We walk on, and suddenly they are gone; but presently we encounter another pair of the same birds, who if we loiter about will treat us in exactly the same way, but, if we pass on steadily, will take little notice of us.

We have little more to say of the Stonechat. It is not often heard to sing; the reason probably being that, when listeners are in the way, it is too anxious about its nest to be musical. Its food is principally insects, which it often catches on the wing. In winter (for they do not all leave us at this season) it feeds on worms, etc. Its nest is remarkable more from its size and position (usually in the centre of a furze-bush), than for neatness of structure. It lays five eggs. Its name Rubícola denotes a dweller among brambles, and is by no means inappropriate, as it rarely perches on any bush exceeding a bramble in size. Its names Stonechat, Stoneclink or Stonechatter, are evidently to be traced to the similarity between its note of alarm and the striking together of two pebbles.

THE REDSTART
RUTICILLA PHOENICURA

Forehead white; throat black; head and upper part of the back
bluish grey; breast, tail-coverts and tail (except the two
central feathers, which are brown), bright rust-red; second
primary equal to the sixth. _Female_--upper parts grey, tinged
with red; larger wing-coverts edged with yellowish red; throat
and abdomen whitish; breast, flanks, and under tail-coverts,
pale red. Length, five inches and a quarter. Eggs uniform
blue.

Although of no great size this summer visitor is pretty sure to attract attention by its peculiar colouring; its red tail and white crown being sufficient to distinguish it from every other British bird. It is familiar, too, in its habits, commonly resorting to gardens, and searching for its favourite food, worms and insects, on the lawn, and in orchards. It is local rather than rare, for while there are some places to which it regularly resorts every year, there are others in which it is never seen. Redstarts arrive in this country about the end of April, and soon set about the work of building their nest. This they generally place in a hole in a wall or hollow of a tree, but sometimes by the mossy stump or amongst the exposed roots of a tree. Occasionally they select a quaint domicile, a garden pot, for example, left bottom upwards, or a sea-kale bed. A still stranger instance is that of a pair of Redstarts, who, themselves or their descendants, were for twenty years located in the box of a wooden pump. On one occasion, the pump being out of order, the owner employed workmen to repair it. This proceeding offended the birds, who deserted it for three years, and then, forgetting or forgiving the intrusion, returned to their unquiet home. Another pair constructed their nest for ten successive years in the interior of an earthenware fountain placed in the middle of a garden. But though not averse to the haunts of men, the Redstart shows much anxiety when its nest is approached, flitting about restlessly and uttering a plaintive cry. I happened once to be walking in a friend's garden, and heard what I supposed to be the chirping of two birds proceed from a large apple-tree close by. As the notes were not familiar to me, I went round the tree several times in order to discover whence they proceeded. One of the notes was like the noise which may be made by striking two pebbles together, the other a querulous chirp, and they seemed to come from different parts of the tree. The author of the music, however, allowed me several times to come very near him, and I satisfied myself that both sounds proceeded from the same bird, a male Redstart, whose nest, I afterwards heard, was built in an adjoining shed. This singular power of ventriloquizing, or making its note apparently proceed from a distant place, is possessed also by the Nightingale, as any one may assure himself who will quietly creep up to within a few yards of one of these birds when singing. The song of the Redstart is short but pleasing, and it is emitted both while the bird is at rest and on the wing, principally in the morning, and only during two months of the year. Its food consists of small worms and insects, which last it is very expert at catching on the wing; and in summer, it regales itself on the soft fruits. Its nest is composed of fibrous roots and moss, and is lined with hair, wool and feathers. It lays about six eggs, which closely resemble those of the Hedge-sparrow, only that they are smaller. In autumn, the Redstarts retire southwards. On the African shores of the Mediterranean they are very abundant, and are caught by the Arabs in traps of the simplest construction. On the continent of Europe, notably in Italy, in spite of their diminutive size, they are highly prized for food. The number of Redstarts (both kinds), Redbreasts Fly-catchers and Nightingales taken in traps is inconceivable. These birds being of about the same size, and equally excellent in delicacy of flesh, are sold together in all the market towns and are sent to the great cities. Thousands of dozens are thus annually despatched; but this number is as nothing compared with that consumed on the spot. In France Bird Protection has done much to stop this cruel traffic. In the schools there the boys and girls are now being taught to know and to care for the wild life about them more than in our English Council Schools.

THE BLACK REDSTART
RUTICILLA TITYS

Upper plumage bluish grey; bill, cheeks, throat, and breast,
black, passing into bluish beneath; tail as in the last;
greater wing-coverts edged with pure white; second primary
equal to the seventh. _Female_--upper plumage duller; lower
bright ash, passing into white; wings dusky, edged with grey;
red of the tail less bright. Length, five inches and three
quarters. Eggs pure shining white.

A much less frequent visitor to this country than the preceding, but by no means ranking among our rarest birds, specimens occurring in the winter of every year in some part of England or another, especially in Devon and Cornwall. Its habits are much the same as those of its congener; but it generally chooses a loftier situation for its nest, which is placed in the walls of buildings, at an elevation varying from a few feet to eighty or ninety. Its plumage differs in being much darker in the fore part of the body, while the tail is of a brighter red. The eggs are white. It generally arrives in England about the first week in November, and remains with us all the winter. Its nest has never been found in this country.

THE REDBREAST, OR ROBIN
ERÍTHACUS RUBÉCULA

Upper parts brownish grey tinged with olive; forehead, lore,
and breast red, the red edged with ash-grey; abdomen white.
_Female_ like the _male_, except that the upper parts are
ash-brown, the red less bright, and the grey surrounding it
less conspicuous. Length, five inches and three quarters. Eggs
yellowish white, spotted with light reddish brown.

The Redbreast is everywhere invested with a kind of sanctity beyond all other birds. Its wonted habit of making its appearance, no one knows whence, to greet the resting traveller in places the most lonely--its evident predilection for the society of the out-of-door labourer, whatever his occupation--the constancy with which it affects human habitations--and the readiness with which, without coaxing, or taming, or training, it throws itself on human hospitality--engender an idea that there must be some mysterious connexion between the two--that if there were no men, there would be no Redbreasts. Trust on one side engenders confidence on the other, and mutual attachment is the natural result. There is something, too, beyond the power of explanation in the fact that the Robin is the only bird which frequents from choice the homes of men.

The habits of the Redbreast are so well known, that to describe them would be simply to write down what every one has seen or may see.

It generally builds its nest in a hole, near the bottom of a hedge or under the stump of a tree, in an ivy-clad wall, or amidst the creepers trained round the veranda of a cottage. I have seen it also placed in a niche in a wall intended for the reception of a vase, in a bee-hive stored away on the rafters of an outhouse, and under a wisp of straw accidentally left on the ground in a garden. It is usually composed of dry leaves, roots, bents, and moss, lined with hair and wool, and contains five or six eggs. The young birds are of a brown tint, and have the feathers tipped with yellow, which gives them a spotted appearance. Until they acquire the red breast, they are very unlike the parents, and might be mistaken for young Thrushes, except that they are much smaller. They may be often observed in gardens for many days after they have left the nest, keeping together, perching in the bushes, and clamorous for food, which the old birds bring to them from time to time. It is said, that only one brood is reared in a year, but this I am inclined to doubt, having observed in the same locality families of young birds early in the spring, and late in the summer of the same year. Towards the end of August, the young birds acquire the distinctive plumage of their species, and are solitary in their habits until the succeeding spring. The call-notes of the Redbreast are numerous, and vary beyond the power of description in written words; the song is loud, and it is needless to say, pleasing, and possesses the charm of being continued when all our other feathered songsters are mute. The red of the breast often has a brighter tint, it is occasionally almost a carmine red. The late Lord Lilford told the editor such were often birds that had been bred on the Continent. Numbers of young birds come across the sea to us each autumn.

Wheatear [F] [M]

Nightingale

Hedge-sparrow Robin

[_p. 16._]]

Whitethroat [M] [M] Garden Warbler [F]

Lesser Whitethroat [M]

Blackcap [M]]

THE NIGHTINGALE
DAULIAS LUSCÍNIA

Upper plumage russet brown; tail bright rust-red; under
plumage buffish white; flanks pale ash colour. Length six and
a quarter inches; breadth nine and a half inches. Eggs uniform
olive-brown.

The southern, eastern, and some of the midland counties of England, enjoy a privilege which is denied to the northern and western--an annual visit, namely, from the Nightingale. It is easy enough to understand why a southern bird should bound its travels northwards by a certain parallel, but why it should keep aloof from Devon and Cornwall, the climate of which approaches more closely to that of its favourite continental haunts than many of the districts to which it unfailingly resorts, is not so clear. Several reasons have been assigned--one, that cowslips do not grow in these counties; this may be dismissed at once as purely fanciful; another is, that the soil is too rocky; this is not founded on fact, for both Devon and Cornwall abound in localities which would be to Nightingales a perfect Paradise, if they would only come; a third is, that the proper food is not to be found there: but this reason cannot be admitted until it is proved that the portions of the island to which the Nightingale does resort abound in some kind of insect food which is not to be found in the extreme southern counties, and that the Nightingale, instead of being, as it is supposed, a general insect-eater, confines itself to that one; and this is a view of the question which no one has ventured to take. My own theory--and I only throw it out for consideration--is that the Nightingale is not found in these two counties on account of their peculiar geographical position. The continental Nightingales are observed to take their departure in autumn, either eastward through Hungary, Dalmatia, Greece, and the islands of the Archipelago; or southwards across the Straits of Gibraltar, but none by the broad part of the Mediterranean. Hence we may infer that the bird dislikes a long sea voyage, and that when in spring it migrates northward and westward, it crosses the English Channel at the narrowest parts only,[3] spreads itself over the nearest counties in the direction of its migration, but is instinctively prevented from turning so far back again to the south as the south-west peninsula of England. From Scotland it would be naturally excluded by its northern position, and from Ireland by the Welsh mountains and the broad sea.

For the dwellers in these unfavoured districts alone is my description of the Nightingale intended; for, where it abounds, its habits are too well known to need any description. Twenty-four hours of genial May weather spent in the country with a good use of the eyes and ears, will reveal more of the life and habits of the bird than is contained in all the ornithological treatises that have been written on the subject, and they are not a few.

No great amount of caution is necessary in approaching the Nightingale while singing at night. One may walk unrestrainedly across the fields, talking in an ordinary tone of voice, and not even find it necessary to suppress conversation when close to a singing bird. Either he is too intent on his occupation to detect the presence of strangers, or he is aware of the security in which he is wrapped by the shades of night, or he is actually proud of having listeners. In the neighbourhood of my present residence in Hertfordshire, Nightingales are numerous. They arrive about the seventeenth of April, and for the first few days assemble year after year in the bushes and hedges of a certain hillside, the position of which it would be unsafe to indicate particularly, and taking their station two or three hundred yards apart from each other, set up a rivalry of song which is surpassingly beautiful. At this season, one may hear five or six chanting at once; every break in the song of the nearest being filled up by the pipings or wailings of the more distant ones. The male birds arrive several days before the female, and employ the interval, it is fancifully said, in contending for the prize in a musical contest. This period is anxiously watched for by bird-catchers, who have learnt by experience that birds entrapped before they have paired will bear confinement in a cage, but that those captured after the arrival of their mates pine to death. The Nightingale being a fearless bird and of an inquisitive nature is easily snared; hence, in the neighbourhood of cities, the earliest and therefore strongest birds fall ready victims to the fowler's art.