Chapter 3

Lapwings.

Throughout, this delightful performance is accompanied by a wild and joyous song, which seems to be attuned to the somewhat bleak surroundings. It thrills one even to remember it in later days: and it defies one to express it in human fashion. It has been as nearly rendered as any version I have ever seen—and I have seen many—by Mr. Brock. It is not a whistle, nor is it like any sound that can be faithfully rendered by the human voice, yet it seems to say “whey-willuchooee-willuch-willuch-cooee.” It suffers a break, remarks Mr. Farren, commenting on this theme, during the flutter of the wings at the end of the fall, but is picked up at once with a triumphant “coo-whee, coo-ee,” as the bird dashes off at the end of the somersault.

The lapwing is very intolerant of any trespass on his breeding territory on the part of his neighbours. As soon as the intruder is sighted, the owner of the territory charges. And the two then mount up into the air, often to a great height, each striving to get above the other for a downward swoop. As the one “stoops” at the other, the lower bird dodges, and so rapidly are the wings moved that they are often brought smartly together over the back, producing a clapping noise.

Even the black, forbidding raven has his amorous moods. And at such times he will even outdo the more lively, though irascible lapwing in the art of aerial somersaults; if somersaults they can be called. For in the middle of an ordinary spell of flying he will suddenly fold up his wings and bring them close up to the body, at the same time turning completely round, as though he were turned on a spit; the body being held horizontal as the turn is made. For a moment or two there he is suspended, as it were, between earth and sky, with his back towards earth, and his breast towards the heavens. Lest he should forget the manner of the trick, it would seem, he will practice it at times, during the stern work of chasing intruders from his territory; for he will brook no competitors on his ground.

The woodpigeon, during the courtship season, makes frequent sallies into the air for the purpose, apparently, of giving vent to his exuberant feelings. During such flights he will dart up from the tree-tops and sail round, high above, in great circles, rising and falling as he goes, with out-spread wings, every now and then bringing them over his back with a resounding snap. During such displays the white bar across the wing is most conspicuous, serving at once to identify the performer.

Among our native birds, the only other species which habitually, and especially during the courting season, produce characteristic sounds during flight, by bringing the wings smartlytogether over the back, is the night-jar. But there are certain small passerine birds, known as mannikins, inhabiting the forests of South America, which have the shafts of the quill-feathers of the fore-arm enormously thickened. By means of these transformed and translated “castenets,” at will, the bird can produce a sound which has been likened to the crack of a whip.

So far this discourse has been concerned solely with “courtship” flights, or flights associated with peculiar sounds, dependent on rapid movements of the wing in mid-air for their production. And with the mention of these instances this Chapter might, quite legitimately, be brought to an end. But it must not. And this, because there are a number of birds which put their wings, during Courtship season, to very different purposes. Spectacular flights and evolutions in mid-air do not appeal to them. They use their wings instead as lures, as a means of adding intensity to strange poses and pirouettings; whereby they desire to give expression to the amorous feelings which possess them, in the hope—if for the moment, we may accord to them human standards of intention—of arousing kindred emotions in their mates.

Darwin was the first to draw attention to these curious displays. Which, on the evidence then available, seemed always to be made, and only to be made, by birds having wings conspicuously coloured. It seemed as though the possessors of suchwings were conscious of their beauty, and so displayed them that nothing of their glory should be missed.

The sun-bittern affords a case in point. This bird, a native of Brazil, is soberly, but very beautifully coloured when at rest; its plumage presenting an indescribable mixture of black, grey, brown, bay, and white; blended in the form of spots, bars, and mottlings. But during times of sexual excitement it will spread out its wings in the form of a great fan, encircling the long, slender, neck. And in this position they present a very conspicuous appearance, taking the form of beautifully graded bands of black, white, and bright grey, forming patterns which vanish the moment the primaries fall into their place behind the quills of the fore-arm. But when thus spread the bird seems to find the greatest delight in displaying their chaste splendour before his mate. He seems to spread his wings just because he is conscious of their beauty when thus opened out.

But we need not travel so far as Brazil to find examples of displays of this kind. Among the birds of our own Islands we can find many close parallels. The chaffinch and the goldfinch, when seeking to arouse the sympathy of their mates make much play with their wings, not only in short “nuptial flights,” designed, apparently, to display the conspicuous and brilliant colouring of the plumage as a whole, but when perched on some convenient spray. At such times the wing is more or less completely spread out, as ifto reveal, to the fullest possible advantage, the bright bars and splashes of colour which this extension alone can bring into being.

Since these gaily coloured vestments seemed always to be associated with striking, stilted, attitudes, sometimes bordering on the grotesque, and always to be paraded in the presence of the female, Darwin drew the inference that they were the outcome of female choice persistently exercised during long generations. That is to say he held that, far back in the history of the race, these performers were soberly clad, as their mates commonly are. Then certain of the males of these now resplendent species began to develop patches of colour, small at first, but gradually increasing, generation by generation, in area and intensity. This progressive splendour, he believed, was due to the “selective” action of the females, which, from the very first, chose from among their suitors those who stood out among their fellows by reason of their brighter plumage. Thus the duller coloured males died without offspring. On this assumption each succeeding generation would be, in some slight degree, brighter than the last, until the process of transformation ended in the glorified creatures we so admire to-day.

It would be foreign to the purpose of this book to pursue this theme at length. Let it suffice to say that while the “Sexual Selection” theory still holds good, it has, so to speak, changed its complexion. And this largely owing to the accumulation ofnew facts. For the most important of these we are indebted to the singularly exact and laborious observations analysed, clarified, and interpreted with remarkable insight and sagacity of Mr. H. Eliot Howard, one of the keenest Ornithologists of our time. He has set forth his case, and interpreted his facts with masterly skill, and there seems no escape from his conclusions. Briefly, he has shown that birds of quite sober coloration like the warblers, which formed the basis of his investigations, engage in displays quite as remarkable, and of precisely the same character as in birds of gaily coloured plumage. From this it is clear that this wing-play is not prompted by a more or less conscious desire to display conspicuously coloured patches of colour, for of colour there is none save that of the general hue of varying shades of brown, as in the case of the grasshopper warbler, for example. Nor is the display, apart from colour, to be regarded as a performance slowly perfected through long generations through the selection of females, coy and hard to please. We must regard these “Nuptial flights” and wing-displays, as the outward and visible signs of a state of ecstatic amorousness on the part of the males which, by their persistence and frequent recurrence, at last arouse sympathetic response in the females. They play the part of an aphrodisiac. Without them there would be no mating. In my “Courtship of Animals” those who will may pursue this subject further.

Herons

Before closing this Chapter mention must be made of the most remarkable wing-display to be found among birds, and of the equally remarkable uses to which they are put. The possessor of these wonderful appendages, for they are wonderful, is the argus pheasant of the Malay Peninsula and Borneo. Though efficient for short flights in jungles, all that is ever required of them, they would be quite useless in open country where an extended journey had to be made, or escape attempted from some vigorous enemy. And this because the secondary wing-quills—the quills attached to the fore-arm—are of enormous length, making, as we have remarked, sustained flight impossible. They have, indeed, come dangerously near losing their normal functions altogether. And this because they have passed over into the category of specialised “secondary sexual characters.” But for the fact that this bird lives in an environment where food is abundant all the year round, and can be obtained without any undue exertion, and that there are no serious enemies to be evaded, it would long since have become extinct. For this exuberant growth of quill-feathers must be borne all the year round, though they are not required to function in their later role, save during the period of courtship.

Their great length is not their only striking feature, or even their chief feature. This, indeed, is represented by their extraordinary coloration. For each feather bears along itsouter web a series of “ocelli,” so coloured as to look like a series of dull gold balls lying within a deep cup. Outside the ocelli run numerous pale yellow longitudinal stripes on a nearly black background. The inner web is of a delicate greyish brown hue, shading into white and relieved by innumerable black spots, while the tips of the quills have white spots bordered with black. The primaries, too, are most exquisitely coloured, though in the matter of size they are not very exceptional. These, indeed, are the only true flight feathers.

The full beauty and significance of the coloration of these feathers can only be appreciated during periods of display. Then the two wings, in some indescribable manner, are opened out so as to form a huge circular screen, concealing the whole of the rest of the body. The effect produced from the human standpoint is one of great beauty, after the first burst of astonishment has spent itself. His mate is less easily moved. Perchance “familiarity breeds contempt.” At any rate it is only after persistent and frequent attempts to charm her to his will that success rewards him.

Those who have the good fortune to be able to make frequent visits to the Zoological Gardens in London may, with great good fortune, and at rare intervals, have an opportunity of witnessing such a display, and of studying in detail these wonderful wings. They are wonderful, not merely becauseof the manner of their display, or of their colouring, but also because in them we see ornament pushed to its furthest limit since, as wings, they have become well nigh useless, and therefore almost dangerous to the well-being of their possessors.

Sunbittern Displaying.

CHAPTER VI.

How to tell Birds on the Wing.

“I can tell a hawk from a hernshaw.”—Shakespeare.

The small perching-birds and the difficulty of distinguishing them—The wagtails—The finches—The buntings—The redstart-wheatear, Stonechat—The thrushes—The warblers—The tit-mice—The nuthatch, and tree-creeper—The spotted-flycatcher—The red-backed shrike—swallows, martins, and swifts—The night-jar—owls—Woodpeckers.

Theexperienced ornithologist apart, there are hosts of people who are interested, at least, in our native birds: who would fain call them all by name; yet who can distinguish no more than a very few of our commonest species. They are constantly hoping to find some book which will give, in a word, the “Hall-mark” of every bird they may meet in a day’s march. But that book will never be written. For some species present no outstanding features by which they may be certainly identified, when no more than a momentary examination is possible, and this at a distance. And it is often extremely difficult to set down in words, exactly, what are the reasons for deciding that some rapidly retreating form belongs to this, or that, species.

And then, too, there are difficulties due to seasonal changes of plumage—often striking—sex, and age; since immature birds often differ totally from the adults in appearance. The young robin and the starling afford instances in point.

The adult starling, as everybody knows, is “black” with a yellow beak and reddish legs. But seen close at hand his feathers gleam with a wonderful metallic sheen reflecting changing hues of violet, green, and purple. The young bird, in the early summer, is of a pale brown colour. In the autumn the plumage is changed for a “black dress,” like that of the adult, but heavily spotted with white. As the winter wears on the white spots become abraded, and disappear. The robin needs no description. But the young bird, in its first plumage, is commonly mistaken for the female, which, of course, is practically indistinguishable from the male. It is certainly unlike one’s notion of a “cock-robin,” being of a yellowish brown colour, with pale spots, a type of plumage characteristic of the young of the “thrush tribe.”

In some nearly related species, again, the males are strikingly different, the females barely distinguishable.

But nevertheless, a very considerable number of our British birds can be more or less easily distinguished during flight—sometimes by the manner of that flight, sometimes by characteristic markings, sometimes by the notes they utter; and these are briefly summarised in this Chapter.

1.Swallow.5.Pied Wagtail.9.Goldfinch.2.House Martin.6.Grey Wagtail.10.Linnet.3.Swift.7.Yellow Wagtail.11.Greenfinch.4.Sand Martin.8.Chaffinch.12.Bullfinch.

When it is realized that no less than 475 species, and sub-species, of British birds are now recognized, it will be apparent that it would be impossible to do more than briefly epitomise the commoner species, and some of these, like the robin, and the wren, need no interpreter.

The aim of this Chapter is primarily to give, as far as possible, the salient features of our commoner native birds, as seen during flight. But some species merely “flit,” from one place to another, and that so rapidly that no details of coloration can be distinguished. They can only be examined at favourable, and often fleeting moments, when at rest, and clear of foliage. Only such as are frequently encountered are included here. To attempt more would be to lead to confusion. Enough, it is hoped, will be said to help the beginner. Experience will soon lead to an ever increasing proficiency—and with this will come an ever increasing conviction that the identification of birds, during flight, is an extremely difficult task. Whoever essays it should, whenever possible, supplement his efforts by the aid of a pair of good field-glasses. These, indeed, are indispensable.

The small perching birds are, perhaps, the most difficult to name at sight, and this because their flight presents so little to distinguish one species from another. All fly with rapid wing-beats, alternating with a period during which the wings are practically closed, causing the body to travel forward on a rapidlydescending curve in the interval between the wing-beats. This gives rise to what is known as an “undulating” flight. But the large passerines, like the crows, differ conspicuously in their method of progress. With them the wing beats relatively slowly, so that its shape can be readily seen; and their course is direct—hence the familiar saying “straight as the crow flies.” Further, the inner webs of the outer primary quills are, what is called “emarginate,” that is to say, the width of the web is suddenly reduced towards the tip of the feather, so that the outstretched wing has a conspicuously fringed appearance, as may be seen at a glance at the beautiful pen-and-ink sketches on another page. The eagles and falcons have similar emarginations.

But to return for a moment to the smaller passerines. There are very few of our native species which could be distinguished in the field by their flight alone. For the most part one has to rely on this and clues afforded by characteristic markings: while a further aid is afforded by at least a slight knowledge of the haunts of birds. One would not expect to find a wheatear in a wood, or a wren in a reed-bed.

The wagtails are among the easiest of the “undulating” fliers to distinguish, if only because of the great length of the tail. The pied-wagtail, with its black and white plumage—or black, grey, and white in the winter—can be identified at a glance. And so too, may the yellow, and the grey wagtails.The last named has the longest tail of all, and is further marked by his beautiful grey back and bright sulphur abdomen and under tail coverts. All have white feathers in the tail. The pipits and skylark, like the wagtails, have very long inner secondaries, but they can never be confused on this account. They can never be mistaken for wagtails, but on the other hand, the several species can be distinguished, when on the wing, only by long practice.

The chaffinch, greenfinch, and goldfinch are with us all the year round, keeping each to his favourite haunts. Most people know them well. But one meets even people living in the heart of the country, who cannot call them by name! The cock chaffinch can be distinguished at once by its white “shoulders,” and white bars across the wing, apart from the bright hues of the body, so well shown in the adjoining Plate. The hen has similar wing-marks, but lacks the bright colours of her lord. His cousin, the brambling—who comes to us in the winter—is just as easily identified by his orange-coloured shoulder patch—in place of white—and white rump, which is most conspicuous during flight. The greenfinch is marked, when in flight, by the yellow rump and bright yellow patches at the base of the tail feathers. Who could mistake the goldfinch for any one else but himself? He looks like a butterfly as he flutters about on the tops of tall thistles. The crimson and black bands on his head, the gloriousblaze of gold on his black wings, which are further marked with white spots, as also is his tail, make him the most gorgeous of our native finches. The bullfinch, again, is easy to distinguish; though from his habit of haunting thickets and dense hedgerows, he is seldom seen. In flight you may know him by his white rump, rosy breast, and black head. But his mate is more soberly clad: though her black head and white rump, will suffice to make sure of her when, by good fortune, she is encountered.

One of the commonest of what we may call “road-side” birds, is the yellow-hammer; which can be recognized at once by the bright yellow colour of its head. As soon as it takes to flight the white feathers in the tail, and the chestnut rump will make assurance doubly sure. But in some parts of England one meets with another, and similar species—the cirl bunting. In this species, however, the male has a black throat and ear-coverts, and an olive-grey chest-band; while the female, lacking these distinctive marks, may be recognized by a brown, instead of a chestnut rump. When in the neighbourhood of swampy places and reed-beds, a look-out must be kept for the reed-bunting. A small bird with a black head and throat, and white collar, this is the male. The female will display a brown head, buff throat and eye-brow, and white outer tail feathers. In the winter time, near the sea, one may frequently come across the snow-bunting, which, on the wing, will at once attract attention by the large areas of white displayed in the wing and tail.

Chaffinch and Young

The redstart, one of our summer visitors, is a bird which can never be mistaken. A sight of the russet-red tail alone suffices. But the cock has the further glory of a mantle of grey, a black head and russet under parts. He is fond of country rich in old timber, or hill-sides, where stone walls attract him. His kinsman, the wheatear, returns to us in the early spring; to give an added charm to our bare hill-sides, and warrens, sea-cliffs, sand-dunes, and waste places. If you see a small bird flying low over the ground, with a white rump, and black wings, you may know that the wheatear is before you. That delightful, restless little bird, the stonechat, is a near relation of the wheatear. He too, is fond of waste places, and heaths; more especially such as will provide him with plenty of furze bushes, or ling, on the topmost twigs of which he loves to perch, flitting his tail and uttering his fussy little notes “hweet-chat, hweet-chat.” On the wing you may tell him by his conspicuous white wing-patch, and the broad blaze of white on his neck, set off by a jet-black head. The female and young lack the bright chestnut on the breast. The stone-chat’s cousin, the whinchat, may be found in similar situations, but he is of a more roving disposition, and may be found also in lowland pasture and water-meadows. More slender in form, he is further to be distinguished by the dark streaks down his back,white-eye stripe, and greater amount of white at the base of the tail. Further, there is no white neck patch.

Most people know the common thrush and the blackbird when they see them, and many country-folk, indeed, recognize no more. Yet there are five species in all, which may be called “common.” They are to be distinguished, not so much by their flight, as by their general coloration. Neither the common thrush, nor the blackbird need be described here: they cannot easily be confounded with any other bird. But for the moment it might be possible, it is true, to mistake the mistle thrush for the more common song-thrush. It is, however, an unmistakably larger bird, and when on the wing appears greyer, and if seen at close quarters, shows white tips to the outermost tail-feathers, and a white underwing. On the ground, of course, there can be no mistaking it, on account of its much more spotted breast; the spots, too, being much larger, and fan-shaped. During the autumn and winter there are two other thrushes which should be looked for. These are the fieldfare and the red-wing. The first-named, it is to be noted, will be found in small flocks, and if examined on the ground through field-glasses will be seen to have a slate-grey neck and rump, and chestnut-brown wings and tail; while the breast is streaked instead of spotted. In flight the underwing is white, as in the mistle-thrush, from which it can easily be distinguished by its smaller size, and the absence ofwhite on its tail. The red-wing, like the fieldfare, is gregarious. This is an important point to bear in mind; since it might otherwise be confused, by the novice, with the song-thrush, the two being about the same size. But seen at rest, close quarters, there can be no mistake; the red-wing having a conspicuous cream-coloured eye-stripe, and chestnut-red flank-feathers. The underwing is similarly coloured. Finally there is the ring-ousel, which, haunts the moorlands and rocky ravines. But it may be recognized at once by its conspicuous white gorget, contrasted with its otherwise black plumage.

Of the forty species of British warblers there is not one which the most expert of our Ornithologists would venture to identify by the character of the flight alone. Most of these species, of course, are rare and accidental visitors; many need an expert to distinguish them, since they represent but Continental Races of our own summer visitors. About ten species can be called common, or fairly common, in suitable localities, and the novice must not expect to recognize even these with anything like certainty. They have no characteristic flight, and they rarely do more than “flit” from one place to another. In the pages of this book, then, they can rightly have no place. But some may, perhaps, be glad of a few notes concerning one or two of the commoner species. The black-cap, for example, may be readily distinguished by its grey plumage contrasting with ablack cap—reddish brown—in the female. It has also a peculiarly delightful song, which some prefer to that of the nightingale. This, the most celebrated of all our warblers—though for some inscrutable reason some ornithologists appear to regard it as a near ally of the redstarts and robin!—frequents woods with thick undergrowth and tangled hedgerows, and hence, is seldom seen, but may be recognised by the uniform russet-brown coloration of its upper parts, shading into pale chestnut on the tail, and the ash-grey of the under parts, shading into white on the throat and abdomen. The whitethroat may be recognized by the fine white ring round the eye, grey head, brown upper parts, and buffish pink breast, set off by the conspicuous white throat, from which the bird derives its name. It is perhaps the only British warbler which can really be distinguished during flight, and this only because the outermost pair of tail feathers are almost wholly white. It may be looked for in hedges and thickets, as well as on gorse-covered commons. Its near relation, the lesser-whitethroat, differs in its smaller size, whiter under parts, and the absence of the rufous edges to the secondaries, which are one of the distinguishing features of the common whitethroat. The garden-warbler is much more frequently heard than seen, its song, a continuous, sweet, and mellow warble, rivalling that of the black-cap, though softer and less varied. Haunting shrubberies and gardens, it is yet the mere ghost of a bird, its uniform brownupper parts, and brownish-buff under-parts, coupled with its shy, retiring disposition make it exceedingly difficult to see. Three other tantalizing little members of this numerous tribe are the chiff-chaff, willow-warbler, and wood-warbler. Tantalizing because so frequently seen during the summer months, so much alike, and yet, somehow, different. The novice has no name for them; the expert can only tell them by a combination of characters, and their contrasts. He is guided rather by their notes and habits, than by their appearance, so closely do they resemble one another! The chiff-chaff, as its name suggests, is to be identified by its song—Chiff-chaff, chiff-chaff, chiff, chiff-chaff-chiff—uttered from the top of a high tree. The singer is too small to be seen, so that he who would discover what manner of bird is the songster, must watch in the direction of the sound, till the singer elects to descend. The willow-warbler is a rather larger bird with a tinge of yellow in his plumage. Also it is less restricted to woods and coppices, and has a sweet, indescribable warble. The wood-warbler is the largest of this trio—from the tip of his beak to the tip of his tail he may measure as much as five inches—and is also the most brightly coloured. Above he is greenish, with an eye-brow of sulphur-yellow, and a sulphur-yellow breast and throat. Since he is rarely to be found, save in woods of beech and oak, he will, on this account, the more easily be distinguished from his cousin, the chiff-chaff and the willow-warbler.This fact again, can be taken into account when the identity of one or other of these two is in question.

1.Sea Gull.6.Redshank.2.Hooded Crow.7.Nightjar.3.Gannet.8.Barn Owl.4.Golden Eagle.9.Rook.5.Snipe.10.Cuckoo.

The warblers are essentially birds of the country-side—they cannot abide the busy haunts of men, who seem unable to settle anywhere without setting up hideous tramways and ugly buildings. Kindly Nature is crowded out. The garden, hedgerow, and shady woods are the chosen haunts of the warblers, though some prefer the reed-grown stream, or the thickets round quiet pools. The reed and the sedge-warbler will be found here, but by no means easily so, for after the manner of their tribe they love seclusion. To find the reed-warbler you must go to reed-beds, or to osier-beds, and there watch for a little bird, chestnut-brown above, and white below. But for his constantly babbling chatter—“churra, churra, churra”—you would never, probably, find him. Guided, however, by his song, you may succeed in finding him nimbly climbing up and down the reed stems. Very like him is the rarer marsh-warbler: but, for your guidance, note that the marsh warbler has a really melodious song, and is even more likely to be found in swampy thickets of meadow-sweet than the reed-beds. The sedge-warbler, though showing a decided preference for streams fringed by osier-beds and thickets, is more of a wanderer than the other two, since tangled hedgerows, and thickets, at a distance from the water will often suffice him. You may know him by the fact that he is of a dark brown colourabove, streaked with a paler shade of brown, while the under parts are white, tinged on the breast and flanks with creamy buff.

Ornithologists rarely concern themselves with anything but the superficial characters of birds. Not even the structure of the feathers interests them, but only their coloration. Hence it is that they have come, quite commonly, to regard the gold-crest, or “gold-crested wren,” as it is sometimes called, as one of the tit-mouse group! There is not even the remotest justification for this view. It is an indubitable warbler. A glance at the coloured Plate will render any description of its appearance unnecessary. From autumn to spring you may find it in most parts of England and Scotland—save the extreme north—hunting in hedgerows and woods for food. During the breeding season it favours coniferous woods. Along the south and east of England, one may also meet with a closely similar species—the fire-crest. But while in the gold-crest the crown is of a bright lemon-yellow, in the fire-crest it is of a bright red-orange hue, while the side of the head is marked by a white stripe bordered with black.

The gold-crest is our smallest British bird. The ranks of our resident “gold-crests,” in the autumn, are swollen by immigrants from northern Europe, who seek shelter with us because unable to withstand the rigours of the more northern winter. In the matter of size the gold, and fire-crested wrens agree, measuring but a trifle more than three and a half inchesfrom the tip of the beak to the tip of the tail! By the way, the shape of the beak should be carefully noted. It is that of a typical warbler.

It may be urged that this description of the warblers might well have been omitted from these pages, since, in regard to “Flight,” nothing whatever can be said, save that they “fly.” There would indeed, be some justification for such criticism, but it is to be remembered that this volume is written, not for the expert, but for the novice, who, because he needs a few concrete examples of the hopelessness of expecting to identify every bird he may encounter by its flight, and of the methods he must occasionally adopt, when seeking to name a bird which will not come out into the open. His course of training, and discovery, will be much shortened by the realization that birds by no means always reveal their presence by taking long flights.

What is true of the warblers, in this regard, is true also of our numerous species of tit-mice. We do not distinguish between them in the field by their flight, but by their coloration.

But since these are such confiding little birds, coming to our very windows during the winter months, for food, a few notes concerning them may be acceptable. The commonest of all is the little blue-tit, or “tom-tit,” as it is so often called. Its beautiful cobalt-blue crown, blue back, wings, and tail, white face, and yellow breast, are familiar to us all. Its larger relative, thegreat tit-mouse—the largest British tit-mouse—bears a close general resemblance to the smaller species, but is readily distinguished, not only by its greater size, but by the broad band of black running down the abdomen. Its flight, as of all the tit-mice, is weak, and as it were, uncertain, confined to short passages from tree to tree. The coal tit-mouse and the marsh tit-mouse are seldom recognized as distinct species, by the novice. They are very soberly coloured little birds, the coal-tit being of an olive-grey, tinged with olive-buff, while the sides of the body are buff: the head and throat are black, relieved by a broad patch of white on each side and down the nape of the neck. The marsh-tit is, to all intents and purposes, of the same coloration, but differs conspicuously in lacking the white patches. The tiny longtailed-titmouse cannot possibly be mistaken for any other bird. Its delicate hues of pink and grey, and extremely long tail, make comparisons with any other species unnecessary.

Where, during the winter, small birds are tempted to come to a tray of nuts and seeds, placed outside the window, that charming little bird the nuthatch—a near relation of the tit-mice—will commonly be among the guests. It cannot be mistaken for any other British bird, its form and coloration being, alike, distinctive. Its upper parts are of a delicate blue-grey, its under parts buff, passing into chestnut on the flanks. The throat is white, while there is a black line from the beak to the eye, and beyond, spreadingas it goes. A relatively large beak, and strikingly short tail, are features as conspicuous as is the coloration. Its flight is slow and undulating.

Another little bird which, during the winter, associates with the tit-mice, is the tree-creeper. It is never seen on the wing, save when it is flitting from one tree to another, and then its course is obliquely downwards—from the upper branches of one tree to the base of another. This it proceeds to ascend immediately on alighting, by jerky leaps. Its coloration is soberness itself—mottled brown above and silvery white below. The tail, it is to be noted, is formed of stiff, pointed feathers, like those of the woodpecker, and, as in that bird, is used in climbing.

There is scarcely a garden—save in such as are within the area of a big town—which, during the summer, is not haunted by a little grey and white bird, with a most characteristic flight—a sudden sally into the air to seize some insect, sometimes even white butterflies, and an instant return to the same perch. This is the spotted flycatcher. In Wales, Devonshire, Cumberland, and Westmorland, one may be fairly sure of meeting with the pied-flycatcher. He is, so to speak, a black and white edition of his relative, the spotted flycatcher—but the black areas in the female are represented by brown. There are, however, notable differences in the method of hunting, in the two species; for the pied-flycatcher rarely returns to the same perch after his upward flight into the air, and he often feeds on the ground.

Gold Crested Wrens

In the straggling hedgerows of the wooded districts of south and central England, and in Wales, one may often come across the red-backed shrike; a very handsome bird, with pointed wings, long tail, and low swooping flights. His red back will alone distinguish him. No other British bird wears such a mantle. And this is set off by a grey crown and nape, and black patches on the sides of the head. The topmost twig of a bush, or hedge, where he can sight his prey from afar, are his favourite perches. On the east coast of England, during the autumn, one may sometimes see the great-grey shrike, distinguished readily by his large size, fan-shaped tail, and grey coloration, relieved by black ear-coverts, black wings and tail, “blazed” with white, and white under-parts. His flight is undulating and irregular, while just before alighting he gives a peculiar upward sweep.

Strangely enough, not only country boys and girls, but their fathers and mothers, not only confuse swallows and martins with one another, but these with the swift! Yet they are readily distinguishable. All, it is true, have long, pointed wings, and forked tails: but their coloration is very different. The swallow has the most deeply forked tail of them all, and his steel-blue back, red throat, and rufous buff-and-cream under parts are unmistakable identification marks. The martin may be distinguishedat once by the conspicuous white rump patch, and pure white under-parts. These are the signs by which they may be recognized when on the wing—and they are more often seen thus than at rest. The sand-martin is a much smaller bird, has a less markedly forked tail, and is of a uniform pale brown above, and white below, but with a brown band across the chest. The swift is not even related to the swallow-tribe. On the wing—and very few people ever see him otherwise—he is very different. The wing-beat is extremely rapid and intermittent. While in its shape the wing differs in its extreme length and narrowness. The flight is extremely swift—hence the name of the bird. Not its least impressive feature is its wonderful flexibility. Who has not watched, with delight, a troop of these birds sweeping down the village street, now skimming the ground, now sweeping upward and away, round the church tower, accompanied by wild, exultant screams, as though they were bubbling over with vitality. When high up they look like so many animated bows and arrows—the arrows being, perhaps, somewhat short and thick. The swift, it is worth remembering, is a near kinsman of the humming-bird, which also has a long narrow wing. Both alike agree in this peculiarity—an upper arm bone of excessive shortness, and a hand of excessive length. No other birds approach them in this. The only other bird which has wings quite so ribbon-like, when extended, is the albatross—one of our rarest British birds. Buthere the proportions of the wing are reversed, for the upper arm bone is of great length, while the hand is relatively short.

There is something inexpressibly soothing about the twilight of a summer’s evening. Most birds are abed. The swift can be heard high up, the “woolly bats, with beady eyes” are silently flitting all round one, turning and twisting as no bird ever turns. But for the chorus of the swifts, like black furies, and heard only at intervals, and faintly, all is silence, relieved, perchance, by the drowsy hum of a blundering dor-beetle. Then, suddenly, if one be near some gorse, or bracken covered common, the stillness is broken by a strange “churring,” like a bubbling whistle, rising and falling in volume. This may be followed by a loud "clap". And yet the source of these strange notes cannot be located, nor can any living thing be seen to which they could be attributed. But keep careful watch. Presently there may emerge from the gathering gloom a long-winged, long-tailed bird, travelling at speed, with a twisting flight, and deliberate wing-beats, alternating with long glide on motionless pinions. As it passes one may notice white spots on wings and tail. This is the night-jar: a bird of ill omen among the aged inhabitants of the country-side, for they will assure you that it is guilty of sucking the milk of cows and goats. Hence, it is commonly known as the “goatsucker.” Poor bird, it is quite innocent of such misdeeds, for though it hasan enormous mouth, armed on either side with long bristles, it feeds only on moths and beetles.

If you are fortunate, your vigil in the gloaming may be rewarded by a sight of yet other night-birds. Out of some hollow tree, or swooping round the barn, may come a ghostly form, borne on absolutely silent wings: but with a reeling, bouyant flight, which is unmistakable—this is the barn owl. If you are very fortunate, you may hear its blood-curdling screech. Once heard you will never forget it! His cousin, the tawny owl, it is whose musical, if doleful “hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-o” has so commonly been misrepresented by poets—and others—as “to-whit-tu-woo.” Its flight is slower and its wings rounder than in the barn owl, and furthermore, it lacks the glistening satin-white under-parts of that bird. But its coloration and general appearance are well-shown in the coloured illustration.

The other species of owls we may reckon as fairly common residents with us. They are the long and the short-eared owls. But they are very rarely to be seen on the wing in daylight. Each has the habit, when excited, of bringing the wings together smartly over the back, so as to produce a sound likened by some to the word “bock.”

Few birds have figured so largely in our literature, perhaps, as the cuckoo. Though heard by all, he is seen by few: and this because so many people fail to recognize the charming wastrelwhen they see him. In general appearance he recalls the sparrow-hawk. I have known even game-keepers confuse the two. But the cuckoo is much paler on the back, and the bars of the breast are finer. On the wing he is much slower than the sparrow-hawk; his wings are shorter, and his tail is tipped with white. Immature birds may be recognized by their clove-brown coloration, and a large white patch at the nape of the neck.

One of the most brilliantly coloured of all our native birds is the kingfisher. Small streams and quiet pools are its favourite haunts. A glance will suffice to identify it at close quarters, but even if one catches sight of its fleeting form at too great a distance to see its wonderful coloration, it can be distinguished by its extremely rapid and direct flight, and curiously shuttle-shaped form: an appearance due to the shortness of its tail, as may be seen by a reference to the excellent coloured Plate.

The identification of birds in flight will be rendered easier for the novice if he makes a practice of “expecting” to find particular birds in particular places. That is to say, the haunts of birds are governed by their stomachs—they must not stray far from the source of their food. In a wood, then, you may “expect” to find woodpeckers—though you will often be disappointed, for they are by no means always to be seen. But the task of identification will be easier if one has a mental picture ready of the birds appropriate to the place.

The green woodpecker, our largest native species, often betrays itself by its remarkable cry, reminiscent of a laugh—“ha, ha, ha,” and “pleu, pleu, pleu.” Keep quite still, and presently, as likely as not, it will suddenly make its appearance with a rapid, undulating flight. As it alights on some neighbouring tree-trunk, its identity will be finally established by its green back and wings, yellow rump, and crimson crown. It ascends the tree by jerky leaps. Where ant-hills abound it may often be seen on the ground, moving about with awkward hops, exploring the hills for ants. The greater and lesser spotted woodpecker may also sometimes be seen here, especially if there is much old timber about. In spring its presence is often made known by a peculiar drumming sound—never forgotten when once heard—made by excessively rapid blows with its beak on the trunk, or branch of a tree. On the wing it may be recognized by its “dipping” flight, and strikingly piebald appearance. At close quarters the strongly contrasted black and white plumage is relieved by crimson undertail-coverts, and a crimson crown. The lesser-spotted woodpecker is a much smaller bird—about the size of a sparrow, or chaffinch—and is barred with black and white; there is a patch of crimson on the head of the male. It has a habit of keeping more to the upper branches of the tree than the other species: but, like its greater cousin, it “drums” on the tree during the spring, but less loudly. Its spring cry, “pee-pee-pee,” is like that of the wryneck. This is a near relation of the woodpeckers, but very different in coloration, being beautifully mottled and vermiculated with grey and brown. But for its spring cry, just alluded to, it would escape notice altogether, so closely does it match the bough it is perched upon. Unlike the woodpeckers its tail-feathers are not developed to form stiff, pointed spines. This is accounted for by the fact that, though it ascends tree-trunks readily, it does not hammer at the bark with its beak, and so does not need stiff tail-feathers to afford leverage. Its flight is slow and hesitating. It is commonest, it may be remarked, on the south-east of England.

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