THE RING OUZELTURDUS TORQUATUSPlumage black edged with greyish white; a large crescent-shaped pure white spot on the throat; bill and legs dusky.Femalewith 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 ŒNANTHÉUpper 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 downsnear 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, callingchack-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 manœuvre, 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 concealthemselves, 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 WHINCHATPRATÍNCOLA RUBÉTRAUpper 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 themaleis 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 constantmotion, 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 STONECHATPRATÍNCOLA RUBÍCOLAHead, 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 histwit-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 thetopof 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 usinto 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,wecertainly 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 REDSTARTRUTICILLA PHŒNICURAForehead 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 owneremployed 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 Flycatchers 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 REDSTARTRUTICILLA TITYSUpper 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 ROBINERÍTHACUS RUBÉCULAUpper parts brownish grey tinged with olive; forehead, lore, and breast red, the red edged with ash-grey; abdomen white.Femalelike themale, 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.Plate_05Plate_06It 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.THE NIGHTINGALEDAULIAS LUSCÍNIAUpper 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 cannotbe 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.It must not be supposed that this bird sings by night only. Every day and all day long, from his first arrival until the young are hatched (when it becomes his duty to provide for his family), perched in a hedge or on the branch of a tree, rarely at any considerable height from the ground, he pours forth his roundelay, now, however, obscured by the song of other birds. But not even by day is he shy, for he will allow any quietly disposed person to approach near enough to him to watch the movement of his bill and heaving chest. At the approach of night he becomes silent, generally discontinuing his song about an hour before the Thrush, and resuming it between ten and eleven. It is a disputed point whether the Nightingale's song should be considered joyous or melancholy. This must always remain a question of taste. My own opinion is, that the piteous wailing note which is its most characteristic nature, casts a shade of sadness as it were over the whole song, even those portions which gush with the most exuberant gladness. I think, too, though my assertion may seem a barbarous one, that if the Nightingale's song comprised the wailing notes alone, it would be universally shunned as the most painfully melancholy sound in nature. From this, however, it is redeemed by the rapid transition, just when the anguish of the bird has arrived at such a pitch as to be no longer supportable, to a passage overflowing with joy and gladness. In the first or second week of June he ceases his song altogether. His cataract of sweet sounds is exhausted, and his only remaining note is a harsh croak exactly resembling that of a frog, or the subdued note of a raven,wate-wateorcur-cur. On one occasion only I have heard him in full song so late as the fourth week in June: but this probably was a bird whose first nest had been destroyed, and whose song consequently had been retarded until the hatching of a second brood. From this time until the end of August, when he migrates eastward, he may often be observed picking up grubs, worms, and ants' eggs on the garden lawn, or under a hedge in fields, hopping from place to place with an occasional shake of the wings and raising of the tail, and conspicuous whenever he takes one of his short flights by his chestnut brown tail-coverts.The Nightingale's nest is constructed of dead leaves, principally of the oak, loosely put together and placed on the ground under a bush. Internally it is lined with grass, roots, and a few hairs. It contains four or five eggs of a uniform olive-brown.[3]This is the opinion of Gilbert White.Sub-FamilyACCENTORINÆTHE HEDGE SPARROWACCENTOR MODULÁRISCrown of the head ash colour, with brown streaks; sides of the neck, throat, and breast, bluish grey; bill strong and broad at base; wing-coverts and feathers on the back reddish brown, with a tawny spot in the centre; middle wing-coverts tipped with yellowish white; lower tail-coverts brown, with a whitish border; middle of abdomen white. Length five and a half inches. Eggs greenish blue, without spots.Inveterate custom has so attached the name of Hedge Sparrow to this bird, that in spite of all the efforts of ornithologists to convince the world that it is no sparrow at all (a hard-beaked, grain-eating bird), but a true warbler, it is still more frequently called by its popular name than by any of those that have been suggested. The gentle, innocent, confiding, little brown bird, which creeps like a mouse through our garden flower-beds, picks up a meagre fare in our roads and lanes, builds its nest in our thorn hedges, and though dingy itself, lays such brilliant blue eggs, has been known to us from our infancy as a 'Hedge Sparrow', and we decline any innovation: the name is a time-honoured one, and no one will mistake us. Hedge Accentor, Hedge Warbler, and Shuffle-wing, are names open to those who prefer them, but we adhere to the old-fashioned designation of Hedge Sparrow. This bird is a genuine Warbler, and one of the few belonging to the tribe who remain with us all the winter; we should suppose, indeed, that he never wandered far from the place of his birth. At all seasons his habits and food appear to be the same. All day long he is shuffling about on the ground picking up minute atoms, whether seeds or insects, who knows? Every day, nearly all the year round, he repairs at intervals to the nearest hedge, where he sings a song, soft and gentle like himself; and every evening, when the Blackbird rings his curfew bell, he fails not to respond with his drowsycheep,cheep, as he repairs to the bush he has selected for his night's rest. Very early in spring, before his brother warblers have arrived from the south, he has chosen his mate, built his snug nest, and too probably commenced a second; for unsuspicious in nature, he does not retire to solitary places for this purpose, and the leafless hedges but ill conceal his labours from the peering eyes of all-destroying ploughboys. Such are nearly all his "short and simple annals". He quarrels with no one, he achieves no distinction, throwing no one into ecstasies with his song, and stealing no one's fruit; unobtrusive and innocent, he claims no notice, and dreads no resentment; and so, through all the even tenor of his way, he is, without knowing it, the favourite of children, and of all the good and gentle.Sub-FamilySYLVIINÆTHE WHITETHROATSYLVIA CINÉREAHead ash-grey; rest of the upper parts grey, tinged with rust colour; wings dusky, the coverts edged with red; lower parts white, faintly tinged on the breast with rose colour; tail dark brown, the outer feather white at the tip and on the outer web, the next only tipped with white.Femalewithout the rose tint on the breast, but with the upper plumage more decidedly tinged with red; feet brown. Length five inches and a half; breadth eight and a half. Eggs greenish white, thickly spotted with reddish and greenish brown. Young, leaving nest, differ very little from adult birds.The Whitethroat is in England the most common of all the migratory warblers, and is generally diffused. It is essentially a hedge-bird, neither taking long flights nor resorting to lofty trees. Early in May it may be detected in a hawthorn or other thick bush, hopping from twig to twig with untiring restlessness, frequently descending to the ground, but never making any stay, and all the while incessantly babbling with a somewhat harsh but not unpleasant song, composed of numerous rapid and short notes, which have but little either of variety or compass. Occasionally it takes a short flight along the hedge, generally on the side farthest from the spectator, and proceeds to another bush a few yards on, where it either repeats the same movements, or perches on a high twig for a few seconds. From time to time it rises into the air, performing curious antics and singing all the while. Its short flight completed, it descends to the same or an adjoining twig; and so it seems to spend its days. From its habit of creeping through the lower parts of hedges, it has received the popular name of 'Nettle-creeper'. From the grey tone of its plumage, it is in some districts of France called 'Grisette', and in others, from its continuous song, 'Babillarde', names, however, which are popularly applied without distinction to this species and the next. While singing it keeps the feathers of its head erected, resembling in this respect the Blackcap and several of the other warblers. Though not naturally a nocturnal musician, it does not, like most other birds, when disturbed at night, quietly steal away to another place of shelter, but bursts into repeated snatches of song, into which there seems to be infused a spice of anger against the intruder.[4]Its food consists of insects of various kinds; but when the smaller fruits begin to ripen, it repairs with its young brood to our gardens, and makes no small havoc among raspberries, currants, and cherries. It constructs its nest among brambles and nettles, raised from two to three feet from the ground, of bents and the dry stems of herbs, mixed with cobweb, cotton from the willow, bits of wool, and horsehair. It usually lays five eggs.[4]This night song is rarely heard except in the months of May and June.THE LESSER WHITETHROATSYLVIA CURRÚCAHead and lore dark ash-grey; rest of the upper parts greyish ash, tinged with brown; wings brown, edged with ash-grey; tail dusky, outer feather as in the last, the two next tipped with white; lower parts pure silvery white; feet deep lead colour. Length five inches and a quarter. Eggs greenish white, spotted and speckled, especially at the larger end, with ash and brown.Gilbert White in his charming history says, "A rare, and I think a new little bird frequents my garden, which I have very great reason to think is the Pettichaps; it is common in some parts of the kingdom; and I have received formerly dead specimens from Gibraltar. This bird much resembles the Whitethroat, but has a more white, or rather silvery breast and belly; is restless and active, like the Willow-wrens, and hops from bough to bough, examining every part for food; it also runs up the stems of the crown-imperials, and, putting its head into the bells of those flowers, sips the liquor which stands in the nectarium of each petal. Sometimes it feeds on the ground like the Hedge-Sparrow, by hopping about on the grass plots and mown walks." The little bird of which the amiable naturalist gives so interesting a description, was, there is little doubt, that which is now called the Lesser Whitethroat, then a 'new bird', inasmuch as it had not been made a distinct species, and necessarily a 'rare bird', not because a few only visited Britain, but because, until his time set the example, competent observers of birds were rare. It differs externally from the preceding, in its smaller size, and the darker colour of its beak, upper plumage, and feet, and resembles it closely in its habits, though I have never observed that it indulges in the eccentric perpendicular flights, which have gained for its congener, the Greater Whitethroat, the quaint sobriquet of 'singing skyrocket.' It feeds, too, on insects, and is not found wanting when raspberries and cherries are ripe. But no matter what number of these it consumes, it ought with its companions to be welcomed by the gardener as one of his most valuable friends. For it should be borne in mind, that these birds, by consuming a portion of a crop of ripe fruit, do not at all injure the trees, but that the countless aphides and caterpillars which they devoured at an earlier period of the year, would, if they had been allowed to remain, have feasted on the leaves and young shoots, and so not only have imperilled the coming crop, but damaged the tree so materially as to impair its fertility for some time to come. Those birds, therefore, which in spring feed on insects and nourish their young on the same diet, may be considered as necessary to protect from injury the trees which are destined to supply them with support when insect food becomes scarce. Consider what would be the result if the proper food of birds were leaves, or if insects were permitted to devour the foliage unchecked! our woods would be leafless, our gardens would become deserts.THE GARDEN WARBLERSYLVIA HORTENSISUpper parts greyish brown, slightly tinged with olive; orbits white; below the ear a patch of ash-grey; throat dull white; breast and flanks grey, tinged with rust colour; rest of the under parts dull white. Length five inches and three-quarters; breadth eight and a half. Eggs greenish white, speckled with two shades of greenish brown.Though tolerably well dispersed throughout England, this bird is by no means so abundant as the Blackcap, which it resembles in size and habits, but it arrives later, coming early in May. It is very local. Its song is little if at all inferior to that of the bird just named, and it is far from improbable that some of the sweet strains for which the Blackcap gets credit, particularly late in the summer, may be produced by the Garden Warbler; I have heard its song so late as the fifth of October. By some authors it is called the Greater Pettychaps, by others theFauvette, which latter name is by some French ornithologists applied to the group containing this bird and several allied species. Its nest and eggs are so like those of the Blackcap as to be discriminated with difficulty.THE BLACKCAPSYLVIA ATRICAPILLATop and back of the head black, in thefemalechocolate colour; upper parts, wings, and tail ash-grey, slightly tinged with olive; neck light grey passing into greyish white; bill and feet black. Length five inches and a half; breadth eight and a half. Eggs pale greenish white, variously mottled with several shades of brown; sometimes pinkish, mottled with light purple, and speckled with dark purple.Whatever difference of opinion there may be as to the character of the Nightingale's song—whether it partakes more of joyousness or of melancholy—the gladsomeness of the Blackcap's warble is beyond all dispute. Conceding to the Nightingale the first place among the warblers which visit England, we do not hesitate to claim the second for the Blackcap. Its song is inferior in power and compass to that of the bird of night, but there is about it a delicious eloquence which makes it irresistibly charming. White of Selborne describes it as "full, sweet, deep, loud and wild"; high but not unmerited praise. If there are no vocal efforts to astonish, there are no piteous wailings to distress, and though the bird retires to rest at a reasonable hour, it continues its song until a late period of the season, long after that of the Nightingale has degenerated to a croak. It has been compared to that of the Redbreast, but it is more mellow and flute-like; to that of the Thrush, but it is softer and of more compass; to that of the Lark, but it is more varied. A practised ear will confound it with neither of these, though,strange to say, many persons who have lived all their lives in the country and who take much interest in its pleasant sights and sounds, habitually confound it with the song of one or other of these birds, not knowing to whom they are indebted for one of the principal charms of their gardens. The Blackcap, like several other of the migratory warblers, returns again and again to its old haunts. For six successive years it has been known to build its nest in a bramble which hung down from a rock in a public garden; and for even a longer period my own garden has been annually visited by a pair who, from unfailingly resorting to the same bushes, must, I have little doubt, be the same pair, though I cannot say that I have found or even searched for their nest. On its first arrival in April, the Blackcap is in the habit of what bird-fanciers call 'recording'—that is, practising over its song in a low tone. During this season of rehearsal it does not care to be seen, but hides away in a thick bush. It is nevertheless by no means shy of being heard, as it will allow the listener to approach within a few yards of its hiding-place without stopping its song, and if disturbed will remove to a very little distance and recommence. After a few days it acquires its full powers of voice.Its song is now remarkable among the full choir for sweetness, loudness, and long continuance. Its food at this time consists of aphides, caterpillars, and other small insects which infest roses and fruit-trees; it rarely captures flies on the wing or descends to feed on the ground. In June it begins to sing shorter strains, but with no diminished power. It may then be observed flying from branch to branch of an apple-tree, resting for a few seconds only in the same spot, and busily occupied in collecting grubs or aphides, then indulging in a short strain. In July, when the raspberries ripen, the Blackcap becomes chary of its song, and introduces its young brood to the choicest and juiciest fruit; in their attentions to which both old and young birds are exceedingly pertinacious, holding scarecrows in extreme contempt, and heeding clapping of hands or the discharge of a gun as little. The young of the first year resemble the adult female in having a chocolate-coloured crown. The song of the Blackcap may be heard occasionally late in the summer; in September or October both old and young take their departure, and the Redbreast is left without a rival to assert his superiority as a warbler, until the return of spring. The nest is usually placed in a hedge or low bush, a few feet from the ground, and is constructed of bents, and lined with fibrous roots and hair. The male bird assists the female in performing the office of incubation, and is said to relieve the monotony of his occupation by singing, thus often betraying a well-concealed nest.THE DARTFORD WARBLERSYLVIA UNDATAUpper parts blackish brown; under, purplish red; middle of the abdomen white; tail long, dark brown, the outer feather tipped with white; wings very short; quills ash-grey on the inner web, dark brown on the outer; feet yellowish; bill yellowish white, with a black tip. Length five inches and a half. Eggs greenish white, speckled all over, and especially at the larger end, with brown and ash-grey.This species received its name from having been first shot on Bexley Heath, near Dartford in 1773. It has since been observed on furzy commons in several of the southern and western counties, but is local and nowhere abundant. In its habits it resembles the Stone and Furze Chats, perching on the upper sprays of the furze and whitehorn, but never still for a minute, throwing itself into various attitudes, erecting its crest and tail at intervals, frequently rising into the air with most fantastic movements, catching insects on the wing, and either returning to the same twig, or making a short flight to some other convenient bush. The syllables 'cha cha cha' are several times repeated when the bird is irritated. Its note is commonlyPitchou, hence its French name. It keeps quite aloof from human habitations, and is so timid that on the approach of an observer, it creeps into a bush, and remains concealed until the danger is past. The nest of goose grass and soft bits of furze, wool and moss is placed in the fork of a furze-bush selected for its thickness and difficulty of access. It is somewhat wandering, but may be called a resident in the South, gradually extending northwards. Many specimens have been observed in mid-winter, and Rennie states that he has seen one as early as the end of February hovering over furze and singing like a Whitethroat.
THE RING OUZELTURDUS TORQUATUS
Plumage black edged with greyish white; a large crescent-shaped pure white spot on the throat; bill and legs dusky.Femalewith 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 ŒNANTHÉ
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 downsnear 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, callingchack-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 manœuvre, 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 concealthemselves, 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 WHINCHATPRATÍNCOLA 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 themaleis 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 constantmotion, 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 STONECHATPRATÍNCOLA 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 histwit-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 thetopof 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 usinto 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,wecertainly 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 REDSTARTRUTICILLA PHŒNICURA
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 owneremployed 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 Flycatchers 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 REDSTARTRUTICILLA 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 ROBINERÍTHACUS RUBÉCULA
Upper parts brownish grey tinged with olive; forehead, lore, and breast red, the red edged with ash-grey; abdomen white.Femalelike themale, 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.
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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.
THE NIGHTINGALEDAULIAS 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 cannotbe 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.
It must not be supposed that this bird sings by night only. Every day and all day long, from his first arrival until the young are hatched (when it becomes his duty to provide for his family), perched in a hedge or on the branch of a tree, rarely at any considerable height from the ground, he pours forth his roundelay, now, however, obscured by the song of other birds. But not even by day is he shy, for he will allow any quietly disposed person to approach near enough to him to watch the movement of his bill and heaving chest. At the approach of night he becomes silent, generally discontinuing his song about an hour before the Thrush, and resuming it between ten and eleven. It is a disputed point whether the Nightingale's song should be considered joyous or melancholy. This must always remain a question of taste. My own opinion is, that the piteous wailing note which is its most characteristic nature, casts a shade of sadness as it were over the whole song, even those portions which gush with the most exuberant gladness. I think, too, though my assertion may seem a barbarous one, that if the Nightingale's song comprised the wailing notes alone, it would be universally shunned as the most painfully melancholy sound in nature. From this, however, it is redeemed by the rapid transition, just when the anguish of the bird has arrived at such a pitch as to be no longer supportable, to a passage overflowing with joy and gladness. In the first or second week of June he ceases his song altogether. His cataract of sweet sounds is exhausted, and his only remaining note is a harsh croak exactly resembling that of a frog, or the subdued note of a raven,wate-wateorcur-cur. On one occasion only I have heard him in full song so late as the fourth week in June: but this probably was a bird whose first nest had been destroyed, and whose song consequently had been retarded until the hatching of a second brood. From this time until the end of August, when he migrates eastward, he may often be observed picking up grubs, worms, and ants' eggs on the garden lawn, or under a hedge in fields, hopping from place to place with an occasional shake of the wings and raising of the tail, and conspicuous whenever he takes one of his short flights by his chestnut brown tail-coverts.
The Nightingale's nest is constructed of dead leaves, principally of the oak, loosely put together and placed on the ground under a bush. Internally it is lined with grass, roots, and a few hairs. It contains four or five eggs of a uniform olive-brown.
[3]This is the opinion of Gilbert White.
Sub-FamilyACCENTORINÆ
THE HEDGE SPARROWACCENTOR MODULÁRIS
Crown of the head ash colour, with brown streaks; sides of the neck, throat, and breast, bluish grey; bill strong and broad at base; wing-coverts and feathers on the back reddish brown, with a tawny spot in the centre; middle wing-coverts tipped with yellowish white; lower tail-coverts brown, with a whitish border; middle of abdomen white. Length five and a half inches. Eggs greenish blue, without spots.
Inveterate custom has so attached the name of Hedge Sparrow to this bird, that in spite of all the efforts of ornithologists to convince the world that it is no sparrow at all (a hard-beaked, grain-eating bird), but a true warbler, it is still more frequently called by its popular name than by any of those that have been suggested. The gentle, innocent, confiding, little brown bird, which creeps like a mouse through our garden flower-beds, picks up a meagre fare in our roads and lanes, builds its nest in our thorn hedges, and though dingy itself, lays such brilliant blue eggs, has been known to us from our infancy as a 'Hedge Sparrow', and we decline any innovation: the name is a time-honoured one, and no one will mistake us. Hedge Accentor, Hedge Warbler, and Shuffle-wing, are names open to those who prefer them, but we adhere to the old-fashioned designation of Hedge Sparrow. This bird is a genuine Warbler, and one of the few belonging to the tribe who remain with us all the winter; we should suppose, indeed, that he never wandered far from the place of his birth. At all seasons his habits and food appear to be the same. All day long he is shuffling about on the ground picking up minute atoms, whether seeds or insects, who knows? Every day, nearly all the year round, he repairs at intervals to the nearest hedge, where he sings a song, soft and gentle like himself; and every evening, when the Blackbird rings his curfew bell, he fails not to respond with his drowsycheep,cheep, as he repairs to the bush he has selected for his night's rest. Very early in spring, before his brother warblers have arrived from the south, he has chosen his mate, built his snug nest, and too probably commenced a second; for unsuspicious in nature, he does not retire to solitary places for this purpose, and the leafless hedges but ill conceal his labours from the peering eyes of all-destroying ploughboys. Such are nearly all his "short and simple annals". He quarrels with no one, he achieves no distinction, throwing no one into ecstasies with his song, and stealing no one's fruit; unobtrusive and innocent, he claims no notice, and dreads no resentment; and so, through all the even tenor of his way, he is, without knowing it, the favourite of children, and of all the good and gentle.
Sub-FamilySYLVIINÆ
THE WHITETHROATSYLVIA CINÉREA
Head ash-grey; rest of the upper parts grey, tinged with rust colour; wings dusky, the coverts edged with red; lower parts white, faintly tinged on the breast with rose colour; tail dark brown, the outer feather white at the tip and on the outer web, the next only tipped with white.Femalewithout the rose tint on the breast, but with the upper plumage more decidedly tinged with red; feet brown. Length five inches and a half; breadth eight and a half. Eggs greenish white, thickly spotted with reddish and greenish brown. Young, leaving nest, differ very little from adult birds.
The Whitethroat is in England the most common of all the migratory warblers, and is generally diffused. It is essentially a hedge-bird, neither taking long flights nor resorting to lofty trees. Early in May it may be detected in a hawthorn or other thick bush, hopping from twig to twig with untiring restlessness, frequently descending to the ground, but never making any stay, and all the while incessantly babbling with a somewhat harsh but not unpleasant song, composed of numerous rapid and short notes, which have but little either of variety or compass. Occasionally it takes a short flight along the hedge, generally on the side farthest from the spectator, and proceeds to another bush a few yards on, where it either repeats the same movements, or perches on a high twig for a few seconds. From time to time it rises into the air, performing curious antics and singing all the while. Its short flight completed, it descends to the same or an adjoining twig; and so it seems to spend its days. From its habit of creeping through the lower parts of hedges, it has received the popular name of 'Nettle-creeper'. From the grey tone of its plumage, it is in some districts of France called 'Grisette', and in others, from its continuous song, 'Babillarde', names, however, which are popularly applied without distinction to this species and the next. While singing it keeps the feathers of its head erected, resembling in this respect the Blackcap and several of the other warblers. Though not naturally a nocturnal musician, it does not, like most other birds, when disturbed at night, quietly steal away to another place of shelter, but bursts into repeated snatches of song, into which there seems to be infused a spice of anger against the intruder.[4]Its food consists of insects of various kinds; but when the smaller fruits begin to ripen, it repairs with its young brood to our gardens, and makes no small havoc among raspberries, currants, and cherries. It constructs its nest among brambles and nettles, raised from two to three feet from the ground, of bents and the dry stems of herbs, mixed with cobweb, cotton from the willow, bits of wool, and horsehair. It usually lays five eggs.
[4]This night song is rarely heard except in the months of May and June.
THE LESSER WHITETHROATSYLVIA CURRÚCA
Head and lore dark ash-grey; rest of the upper parts greyish ash, tinged with brown; wings brown, edged with ash-grey; tail dusky, outer feather as in the last, the two next tipped with white; lower parts pure silvery white; feet deep lead colour. Length five inches and a quarter. Eggs greenish white, spotted and speckled, especially at the larger end, with ash and brown.
Gilbert White in his charming history says, "A rare, and I think a new little bird frequents my garden, which I have very great reason to think is the Pettichaps; it is common in some parts of the kingdom; and I have received formerly dead specimens from Gibraltar. This bird much resembles the Whitethroat, but has a more white, or rather silvery breast and belly; is restless and active, like the Willow-wrens, and hops from bough to bough, examining every part for food; it also runs up the stems of the crown-imperials, and, putting its head into the bells of those flowers, sips the liquor which stands in the nectarium of each petal. Sometimes it feeds on the ground like the Hedge-Sparrow, by hopping about on the grass plots and mown walks." The little bird of which the amiable naturalist gives so interesting a description, was, there is little doubt, that which is now called the Lesser Whitethroat, then a 'new bird', inasmuch as it had not been made a distinct species, and necessarily a 'rare bird', not because a few only visited Britain, but because, until his time set the example, competent observers of birds were rare. It differs externally from the preceding, in its smaller size, and the darker colour of its beak, upper plumage, and feet, and resembles it closely in its habits, though I have never observed that it indulges in the eccentric perpendicular flights, which have gained for its congener, the Greater Whitethroat, the quaint sobriquet of 'singing skyrocket.' It feeds, too, on insects, and is not found wanting when raspberries and cherries are ripe. But no matter what number of these it consumes, it ought with its companions to be welcomed by the gardener as one of his most valuable friends. For it should be borne in mind, that these birds, by consuming a portion of a crop of ripe fruit, do not at all injure the trees, but that the countless aphides and caterpillars which they devoured at an earlier period of the year, would, if they had been allowed to remain, have feasted on the leaves and young shoots, and so not only have imperilled the coming crop, but damaged the tree so materially as to impair its fertility for some time to come. Those birds, therefore, which in spring feed on insects and nourish their young on the same diet, may be considered as necessary to protect from injury the trees which are destined to supply them with support when insect food becomes scarce. Consider what would be the result if the proper food of birds were leaves, or if insects were permitted to devour the foliage unchecked! our woods would be leafless, our gardens would become deserts.
THE GARDEN WARBLERSYLVIA HORTENSIS
Upper parts greyish brown, slightly tinged with olive; orbits white; below the ear a patch of ash-grey; throat dull white; breast and flanks grey, tinged with rust colour; rest of the under parts dull white. Length five inches and three-quarters; breadth eight and a half. Eggs greenish white, speckled with two shades of greenish brown.
Though tolerably well dispersed throughout England, this bird is by no means so abundant as the Blackcap, which it resembles in size and habits, but it arrives later, coming early in May. It is very local. Its song is little if at all inferior to that of the bird just named, and it is far from improbable that some of the sweet strains for which the Blackcap gets credit, particularly late in the summer, may be produced by the Garden Warbler; I have heard its song so late as the fifth of October. By some authors it is called the Greater Pettychaps, by others theFauvette, which latter name is by some French ornithologists applied to the group containing this bird and several allied species. Its nest and eggs are so like those of the Blackcap as to be discriminated with difficulty.
THE BLACKCAPSYLVIA ATRICAPILLA
Top and back of the head black, in thefemalechocolate colour; upper parts, wings, and tail ash-grey, slightly tinged with olive; neck light grey passing into greyish white; bill and feet black. Length five inches and a half; breadth eight and a half. Eggs pale greenish white, variously mottled with several shades of brown; sometimes pinkish, mottled with light purple, and speckled with dark purple.
Whatever difference of opinion there may be as to the character of the Nightingale's song—whether it partakes more of joyousness or of melancholy—the gladsomeness of the Blackcap's warble is beyond all dispute. Conceding to the Nightingale the first place among the warblers which visit England, we do not hesitate to claim the second for the Blackcap. Its song is inferior in power and compass to that of the bird of night, but there is about it a delicious eloquence which makes it irresistibly charming. White of Selborne describes it as "full, sweet, deep, loud and wild"; high but not unmerited praise. If there are no vocal efforts to astonish, there are no piteous wailings to distress, and though the bird retires to rest at a reasonable hour, it continues its song until a late period of the season, long after that of the Nightingale has degenerated to a croak. It has been compared to that of the Redbreast, but it is more mellow and flute-like; to that of the Thrush, but it is softer and of more compass; to that of the Lark, but it is more varied. A practised ear will confound it with neither of these, though,strange to say, many persons who have lived all their lives in the country and who take much interest in its pleasant sights and sounds, habitually confound it with the song of one or other of these birds, not knowing to whom they are indebted for one of the principal charms of their gardens. The Blackcap, like several other of the migratory warblers, returns again and again to its old haunts. For six successive years it has been known to build its nest in a bramble which hung down from a rock in a public garden; and for even a longer period my own garden has been annually visited by a pair who, from unfailingly resorting to the same bushes, must, I have little doubt, be the same pair, though I cannot say that I have found or even searched for their nest. On its first arrival in April, the Blackcap is in the habit of what bird-fanciers call 'recording'—that is, practising over its song in a low tone. During this season of rehearsal it does not care to be seen, but hides away in a thick bush. It is nevertheless by no means shy of being heard, as it will allow the listener to approach within a few yards of its hiding-place without stopping its song, and if disturbed will remove to a very little distance and recommence. After a few days it acquires its full powers of voice.
Its song is now remarkable among the full choir for sweetness, loudness, and long continuance. Its food at this time consists of aphides, caterpillars, and other small insects which infest roses and fruit-trees; it rarely captures flies on the wing or descends to feed on the ground. In June it begins to sing shorter strains, but with no diminished power. It may then be observed flying from branch to branch of an apple-tree, resting for a few seconds only in the same spot, and busily occupied in collecting grubs or aphides, then indulging in a short strain. In July, when the raspberries ripen, the Blackcap becomes chary of its song, and introduces its young brood to the choicest and juiciest fruit; in their attentions to which both old and young birds are exceedingly pertinacious, holding scarecrows in extreme contempt, and heeding clapping of hands or the discharge of a gun as little. The young of the first year resemble the adult female in having a chocolate-coloured crown. The song of the Blackcap may be heard occasionally late in the summer; in September or October both old and young take their departure, and the Redbreast is left without a rival to assert his superiority as a warbler, until the return of spring. The nest is usually placed in a hedge or low bush, a few feet from the ground, and is constructed of bents, and lined with fibrous roots and hair. The male bird assists the female in performing the office of incubation, and is said to relieve the monotony of his occupation by singing, thus often betraying a well-concealed nest.
THE DARTFORD WARBLERSYLVIA UNDATA
Upper parts blackish brown; under, purplish red; middle of the abdomen white; tail long, dark brown, the outer feather tipped with white; wings very short; quills ash-grey on the inner web, dark brown on the outer; feet yellowish; bill yellowish white, with a black tip. Length five inches and a half. Eggs greenish white, speckled all over, and especially at the larger end, with brown and ash-grey.
This species received its name from having been first shot on Bexley Heath, near Dartford in 1773. It has since been observed on furzy commons in several of the southern and western counties, but is local and nowhere abundant. In its habits it resembles the Stone and Furze Chats, perching on the upper sprays of the furze and whitehorn, but never still for a minute, throwing itself into various attitudes, erecting its crest and tail at intervals, frequently rising into the air with most fantastic movements, catching insects on the wing, and either returning to the same twig, or making a short flight to some other convenient bush. The syllables 'cha cha cha' are several times repeated when the bird is irritated. Its note is commonlyPitchou, hence its French name. It keeps quite aloof from human habitations, and is so timid that on the approach of an observer, it creeps into a bush, and remains concealed until the danger is past. The nest of goose grass and soft bits of furze, wool and moss is placed in the fork of a furze-bush selected for its thickness and difficulty of access. It is somewhat wandering, but may be called a resident in the South, gradually extending northwards. Many specimens have been observed in mid-winter, and Rennie states that he has seen one as early as the end of February hovering over furze and singing like a Whitethroat.