At the time of the heaviest bird migrations in autumn, vast flocks of woodcocks pitch on the English coasts. They stay through the winter, and in spring the majority again cross the wild North Seaen routeto their northern breeding haunts. The woodcock is a "shifting" species, and just as any bird is erratic in its wanderings, so it is interesting to naturalists. The British Association is already on the track of the "woodsnipe," as are several individual observers in a more literal sense. There was a time when the nesting of the woodcock in England was of such rare occurrence as to be recorded in the natural history journals. We now know that it has bred in almost every English county, and that the number of birds which remain in our woods to breed is annually increasing. This fact proves that the woodcock's habits are being modified, and ornithologists have now to discover the reasons of its extended range.
In coming to this country, woodcocks generally travel in the night and against a head-wind. Those which are exhausted pitch upon the east coast, and here lie resting until nightfall, when they pass on. The probability is that if these birds had not experienced a rough passage they would not have touched the eastern seaboard, but would have kept well in the upper currents of the air, and first dropped down in our western woods or even those of Ireland. The migratory bodies are usually preceded by flocks of tiny goldcrests; and so invariable is this rule that the latter have come to be called "woodcock-pilots." The males precede the females by a few days; the latter bringing with them the young that have been bred that year. It is a point worthy of notice, and one upon which much confusion exists, that the birds that come to us are usually in the very best condition. Soon after their arrival they disperse themselves over the leaf-strewn woods, the same birds being known to resort to the same spots for many successive years. They seek out the warmer parts of the wood, and in such secluded situations sleep and rest during the day. At dusk they issue forth in their peculiar owl-like flight, to seek their feeding grounds. Like many birds they have well-defined routes, and daily at twilight may be seen flying along the rides and paths of the woods or skirting along certain portions of plantations. Coppice-belts they like best, especially such as contain spring-runs. It is here that the bird most easily finds food, the soft ground enabling it to probe quickly and to a considerable depth in search of earthworms. These constitute its principal diet, and the quantity that a single bird will devour is enormous. The long mobile bill of the woodcock is a study in itself. The rapidity with which the bird uses it in following a worm in the ground is marvellous. It is extremely flexible—so much so as to be bent and twisted into every shape without suffering harm—and it is as sensitive as flexible.
Every sportsman knows that woodcocks are here to-day, gone to-morrow. He often finds that where there were plenty yesterday not a single 'cock remains. Ireland, perhaps, affords the best shooting. It was here that the Earl of Clermont shot fifty brace in one day. This feat was the result of a wager; and the bag was made by two o'clock in the afternoon, with a single-barrelled flint-lock. The birds were shot in a moist wood; and it is in such spots on the mild west coast that the woodcock finds its favourite haunt. In England the birds affect coppice-woods, frequenting most those which are wet, and such as have rich deposits of dead and decaying leaves. Most of these copses are of oak and birch and hazel, and being only of a few years' growth are thick in the top. Killing 'cock, as they dash through the twigs of these and seldom rising above the bushes, is one great test of a shooter's skill. Then the birds have a habit of dropping down at a short distance, which almost invariably deludes the inexperienced gunner. When they are put up from their resting places during the day the flight is rapid; at evening it is slow. It is now that they are easiest to shoot; though in some parts of the country they are still taken in nets as they fly at dusk through the paths of the woods. Netting woodcocks was at one time the common way of taking them; for they have always been highly esteemed as food. Another method of capture was by "gins" and "springs;" and it would seem that in times past the "woodsnipe" was considered a stupid bird. None of the denizens of the woods conforms better or more closely to its environment. The browns and duns and yellows of its plumage all have their counterpart in the leaves among which it lies; and it has been pointed out that the one conspicuous ornament of the bird is covered by a special provision from the gaze of those for whose admiration it is not intended. This is the bright colouring of the tail feathers, which cannot be seen except at the will of the bird or in flight. Its protection lacks in one thing, however, and that is its large dark eye; this is full, bright, and (so to speak) obtrusive. It is not often that a special provision of this kind is injurious to its owner; but the lustre which beams from the woodcock's eye is apt to betray its presence, and even to negative the advantage of its protective colouring. This has long been known. Hudibras has it that:
"Fools are known by looking wise,As men find woodcocks by their eyes."
"Fools are known by looking wise,As men find woodcocks by their eyes."
"Fools are known by looking wise,
As men find woodcocks by their eyes."
The woodcock is an early breeder, the eggs being found by the second week in March. These are usually four in number; and the nest is placed among dry grass, leaves, and fern. The young are able to run immediately they are hatched, and are sometimes found with portions of shell adhering to their down. In a few days they are led to the vicinity of water, where they remain until they are able to fly. It is said that a small bank of moss is sometimes constructed by the old birds, upon which worms are placed. In its yielding substance they have their first lesson in boring, and obtain the kind of food which constitutes their chief diet in after life. One of the most interesting traits about the woodcock is the fact of its occasionally conveying its young through the air; which is done by only one or two other birds. This is no recent discovery. The fact was known as early as the middle of last century; though Gilbert White rightly surmised that those observers were mistaken who fancied the young were conveyed either by or in the bill. It is just as erroneous, however, to substitute the claws, as some have done, for the bill. The truth is, that when the parent bird wishes to convey her young one from a place of danger to one of safety, the tiny thing is gently pressed between the feet and against the breast, the aid of the bill being resorted to only when the burden has been hastily taken up. In this way the whole of the brood is sometimes removed from one part of a wood to another, if the birds have been much disturbed. This trait may be confirmed by any one who will look out the bird in its haunts, and is all the more interesting as it seems to be quite an acquired one. The bird is in no way adapted to transport its young through the air.
There are upwards of a dozen species of British plover; birds interesting to the naturalist, dear to the heart of the shore-shooter and to the sportsman of the marshes. Some of these are summer visitants to our shores, others come in winter, while a few stay with us throughout the year. The common green plover or peewit, with its crest, its peculiarly rounded wings, its plaintive cry, is the best known; and this species breeds with us, as the abundance of its eggs shows. In autumn the old birds and their young descend from the uplands where the latter are bred, and seek out the mud-banks and ooze-flats on which to spend the winter. Plashy meadows and marshes are also favourite feeding grounds; and here the lapwing makes "game" for an army of gunners. The vast flocks of plovers that congregate in autumn are said to be growing in numbers. Hundreds of thousands of eggs are collected annually; bunches of green plover are displayed at the gameshops during the autumn; and yet there are more of these birds in England than ever there were. This may be accounted for by the closeness with which the plover conforms to its environment through every season. The plover is dainty eating, as are also its eggs. "To live like a plover"—meaning to live on the wind—is a saying of no aptitude. All the species are voracious feeders on substantials. Their chief food consists of insects and worms from ploughed land; but immediately upon the setting in of frost they betake themselves to the mosses and marshes, or even to the coast and estuaries of rivers. Here they feed liberally and at large, becoming plump and fat. On these grounds the birds often remain till the return of spring. Although many are shot, most of the birds that find their way to market are taken in nets by professional fowlers. When the flocks are heaviest, and during hard weather, from fifty to eighty plovers are sometimes secured at one raising of the net.
Flying with the lapwing may often be seen flocks or "trips" of golden plover—one of the most beautiful birds of its family, and much less common as a species than the last. Like the rare dotterel it breeds on the highest mountains, and in the nesting season has the golden markings of its back set off by the rich velvety black of its breast. This is an adornment donned only for the summer season, and is changed at the time of the autumnal migration from the elevated breeding grounds to the lowlands. At all times it has a piping, plaintive whistle, which conforms well to the wild solitudes where it is heard. The flocks of golden plover are usually smaller than those of green, and are more compact. When feeding together the two kinds are not easily discriminated. The moment they take wing, however, a difference is detected; the golden plover flying straight and quick, often in a V-shaped bunch; the green going loosely and without apparent order. All plover are restless and shifting before a change of weather, and when this is for the worse the golden plover always fly south. They are delicate birds, in fact, and little fitted to withstand the rigours of our northern climate. As a table bird it is more dainty even than the green plover, and fetches a higher price. The death-dealing punt-gun is terribly destructive to this species, from the compact mode of flying described above. As many as a hundred birds have been killed at a single shot.
The beautiful little ringed plover, or sea-lark, is another of our breeding species. It is permanently resident on our coasts, and is one of the most interesting of British shore-birds. At no time infrequent, there is a considerable accession in winter; and it is a pretty sight to watch a flock of these feeding among sand or shingle, or even upon a mud-flat. It is in such spots, too, that it lays its creamy-spotted eggs (pointed like those of all plovers), often without the slightest semblance of a nest. No shore bird is as nimble as the ringed plover. It runs with the utmost grace and ease, picking up tiny crustaceans as it goes. Although not uncommon, the ringed plover is somewhat locally distributed, which may also be said of the Kentish plover. This is a rare species, and is very seldom found in numbers far from the south-eastern counties—from the saltings of Essex and Kent. In haunt and habit it much resembles the "sea-lark."
Only one other shore bird is resident with us throughout the year; this is the oyster-catcher. Sea-pie and olive it is also called on some parts of our coasts. It is easily distinguished by its well-defined black and white markings, and every shore-shooter knows its shrill rattling whistle, its short uneasy flights, and its restless paddlings up and down the ooze. Watch the sea-pie from behind some boulder and see how admirably adapted is its bill to its wants. Flattened sideways and as hard as stone, no bivalve can resist it. It breeds among the weed and driftwood just above high-water mark, and lays three or four eggs of a cream-coloured ground, blotched and spotted with varying shades of rich dark brown.
The little ringed plover is an exceedingly rare British bird, and is like our own ringed plover in miniature.
The grey plover and the turnstone are spring and autumn visitants, having their breeding haunts in the far north, though it is probable that the first has bred a few times within the British Islands. Specimens have been seen in the London markets attired in summer plumage, and the birds themselves have been observed about the Fame Islands in June. The grey plover is fairly numerous after its advent in September, keeping in small flocks and sticking closely to the coast lines. It is larger than the green and golden plovers, is sometimes seen in company with them, and like them assumes a black breast in the breeding season. It occurs less frequently in the bags of the puntsman than the birds just named; it is rarely obtained far inland. Like its congeners it forms a delicate morsel to thegourmet. The turnstone, also known as the Hebridal sandpiper, is a handsome bird in black, white, and chestnut. In its haunts it feeds upon various sea and sand haunting creatures, which it obtains by turning over the stones with its bill. In this office the birds often assist each other. It comes in September in limited numbers, going north to its breeding haunts early in spring.
The dotterel and Norfolk plover are summer visitants. The former breeds upon the tops of the highest mountains, and rarely stays more than a few days during the times of the spring and autumn migrations. It is every year decreasing in consequence of the persistency with which it is hunted down for feathers for dressing flies. We have found it breeding upon Skiddaw, Sca Fell, and Helvellyn. The Norfolk plover, thick knee, or stone curlew, is a summer visitant, coming in small numbers, and being only locally distributed. It breeds in a few of the eastern counties.
December, with its frost and snow, its cold grey skies, and biting northern weather, always brings with it skeins of swans, geese, and wild-fowl. The heart of the fowler warms as he hears the clangour and wild cries of the birds afar up, for although he cannot see their forms, he easily determines the species. He hears the gaggle of geese, the trumpetings of wild swans, and the cry of the curlew as it hovers over the lights. Among the fowl that are driven down by stress of weather are wisps of snipe, and, although comparatively small, no game is dearer to the heart of the inland sportsman or shore-shooter. Four species of snipe are found in Britain, though one of these, the red-breasted or brown snipe, can only be looked upon as a rare straggler. The remaining three species are the common snipe, the great snipe, and the jack snipe. All snipe have a peculiar zig-zag flight, and this peculiarity renders them most difficult to kill. Bagging the first snipe constitutes an era in life of every sportsman, and is an event always remembered. Another characteristic of birds of this genus is the beauty and design of their plumage. The ground colour is streaked and pencilled in a remarkable manner with straw-coloured feathers, which enables the bird to conform in a marvellous manner to the bleached stalks of the aquatic herbage which constitutes its haunt. The arrangement is somewhat similar to that of the woodcock lying among its dead oak-leaves.
The common snipe is one of our well-known marsh birds, although drainage and better farming have not only restricted its breeding haunts, but have caused it to be less numerous. Still it probably breeds in every county in England, and our resident birds are augmented in numbers by bands of immigrants which annually winter within our shores. These mostly come from Scandinavia, and soon after their arrival may be seen dispersing themselves over the marshes in search of food. At this time they are exceedingly wary, and the alarm-note of a single bird will put every one up from the marsh. The startled cry of the snipe resembles the syllables "scape, scape," which is often a literal translation of what takes place before the gunner. The bird feeds on plashy meadows, wet moors, by tarns and stream sides, and on mosses which margin the coast. And this being so it is one of the first to be affected by severe weather. If on elevated ground when the frost sets in it immediately betakes itself to the lowlands, and when supplies fail here it soon starves, becoming thin and skeleton-like. Under ordinary circumstances the bird is a ravenous feeder, lays on a thick layer of fat, and is certainly a delicacy. Soon after the turn of the year snipe show an inclination to pair, one of them circling high in the air, and flying round and round over their future nesting site. It is now that they produce a peculiar drumming noise, caused as some say by the rapid action of the wings when making a downward swoop; while others assert that the noise is produced by the stiff tail feathers; others again that it is uttered by the bird itself. This "bleating" much resembles the booming of a large bee, and has given to the bird several expressive provincial names. To many northern shepherds the noise indicates dry weather and frost. The snipe is an early breeder, and in open seasons its beautiful eggs may be found by March or early April. These are laid in a depression among rushes or aquatic herbage, and have a ground colour of greenish olive, blotched with varying shades of brown. Incubation lasts only a fortnight, and the result of this are young which run as soon as they are hatched, and clothed in an exquisite covering of dappled down. The birds strongly object to any intrusion on their breeding haunts, though this presents a capital opportunity of hearing the peculiar sound already referred to. The male will be seen flying high in circles, and whenever he indulges the remarkable action of his wings in his curving descent the sound proceeds from him. Upon being hatched the young are immediately led to water and the protection of thick and dank herbage. Here, too, food is abundant, which for these tiny things consists of the lowest forms of aquatic life. It is interesting to watch snipe boring for food, and it is surprising what hard ground their admirably-adapted long mobile bills can penetrate. This is an exceedingly sensitive organ however, the outer membrane being underlaid by delicate nerve fibre, which infallibly tells the bird when it touches food, although far hidden from sight. The seeds which are sometimes found in birds of the snipe kind have come there not by being eaten, but attached to some glutinous food, and eaten accidentally.
The second species, the great snipe, long remained unknown as a British bird, owing to its being considered only a large variety of the bird above mentioned. Pennant was the first to elevate it to the rank of a species, and, once pointed out, its claim was admitted. The great snipe does not breed in Britain, and those killed here are mostly birds of the year, these occurring from early to late autumn. During a single season the writer shot three examples of this bird; one was flushed from turnips, the other two from a high-lying tussocky pasture—an ideal spot for hares, and for which we were on the look-out. In going away the great snipe is much slower than its common cousin, and is not given to zig-zaging to such an extent. It lies close, flies heavily, and on the wing reminds one very much of the woodcock. Unlike its congeners, it does not soon "plump," but flies straight away. "Solitary snipe" is misleading, as a pair are often found in company; whilst double snipe, woodcock snipe, and little woodcock are each expressive and descriptive. With regard to food and habit, this species has much in common with its congeners. It is usually found on high and dry situations from October to the end of the year, and seems to prefer loose soil to wet marshes, as the former give a greater variety of food. This consists of worms, insects and their larvæ, beetles, tiny land-shells and grit. When in season the birds are loaded with flesh and fat. Only a slight nest is constructed at breeding time, when four eggs are laid; these are olive-green with purplish-brown blotches. The bird is not known to breed with us, though it does in Scandinavia, and here it is sometimes known to tear up the surrounding moss with which to cover its back. This it does for the purpose of concealment, a proceeding which is sometimes practised by the woodcock. The following interesting fact is recorded by two gentlemen who have observed the bird in its breeding grounds. "The great snipe has alekor playing ground, similar to that of some of the grouse tribe, the places of meeting, orspil-pads, being frequented by several pairs of birds from dusk to early morning. The male utters a low note resemblingbip, bip, bipbip, bipbiperere, biperere, varied by a sound like the smacking of a tongue, produced by striking the mandibles smartly and in rapid succession; he then jumps upon a tussock of grass, swelling out his feathers, spreading his tail, drooping his wings in front of the female, and uttering a tremuloussbirr…. The males fight by slashing feebly with their wings, but the combat is not of long duration." As the characteristics of the great snipe become known, it will doubtless be recorded as occurring more frequently than it has been in the past. As has been suggested, it is most probable that in a big bag of snipe the rarer species may frequently have been overlooked, especially as the common snipe varies in size, perhaps more than any other bird.
The jack snipe is the smallest British species, and is only a winter visitant to this country. It breeds upon thetundrasof the far north, and arrives here late in September. Unlike its congeners, it is usually seen singly, and it procures its food in the boggiest situations. It feeds much at dusk both morning and evening, and when satisfied retires a short distance upland, where among dry grass tufts it rests during the day. Its food consists of worms and other soft-bodied creatures; under favourable conditions it lays on much fat, and is considered a delicacy at table. Upon its first coming it makes for wet meadows, plashy uplands, and sea-coast tracts, although the weather regulates the altitude at which the bird is found. If severe frost sets in it leaves the hill-tarns for lower land, and seeks the protection of grass and rushes by the margins of streams. Open weather, however, soon drives it from the valleys. The jack snipe is very local in its likes, and will return again and again to the same spot; in ordinary seasons its numbers are about equal to those of the common snipe. It lies well to the gun, often until almost trodden on, and birds have been known to have been picked up from before the nose of a dog. It is more easily killed than any of its congeners, for although it flies in a zig-zag manner it invariably rises right from the feet of the sportsman. About April the birds congregate for their journey northwards, and there is no authentic record of the species having bred in Britain. Mr. John Wolley, an English naturalist, discovered in Lapland the first known eggs of the jack snipe. And this is how he relates the interesting find: "We had not been many hours in the marsh when I saw a bird get up, and I marked it down. The nest was found. A sight of the eggs, as they lay untouched, raised my expectations to the highest pitch. I went to the spot where I had marked the bird, and put it up again, and again saw it, after a short low flight, drop suddenly into cover. Once more it rose a few feet from where it had settled. I fired, and in a minute had in my hand a true jack snipe, the undoubted parent of the nest of eggs! In the course of the day and night I found three more nests, and examined the birds of each. One allowed me to touch it with my hand before it rose, and another only got up when my foot was within six inches of it. The nest of the 17th of June, and the two of the 18th of June, were all alike in structure, made loosely of dried pieces of grass and equisetum not at all woven together, with a few old leaves of the dwarf birch, placed in a dry sedgy or grassy spot close to more open swamp."
At one time snipe were commonly taken in "pantles" made of twisted horsehair. These were set about three inches from the ground, and snipe and teal were mostly taken in them. In preparing the snares the fowler trampled a strip of oozy ground, until, in the darkness, it had the appearance of a narrow plash of water. The birds were taken as they went to feed in ground presumably containing food of which they were fond.
If trout streams and salmon rivers are ever more interesting than when the "March-brown" and the May-fly are on, surely it must be when the fish are heading up stream for the spawning grounds. Then the salmon leave the teeming seas and the trout their rich river reaches for the tributary streams. At this time the fish glide through the deep water with as much eagerness as they rushed down the same river as silvery samlets or tiny trout. Maybe they stay for a short time at some well-remembered pool, but the first frosts remind them that they must seek the upper waters. A brown spate rolling down is a potent reminder, and they know that by its aid the rocks and weirs will be more easily passed. If the accustomed waterways are of solid foam the fish get up easily, but the soft spray gives them little hold. Let us watch them try to surmount the first obstacle; and here, by the White Water rocks it is a silvery sight to see the salmon "run." There is a deafening roar from the waterfall, and the almost impalpable spray constitutes a constant maze of translucent vapour. Ever and anon a big fish throws its steel-blue form many feet above the water, endeavouring to clear the obstacle. Many times it is beaten back, but at last it gains a ledge, and by a concentrated effort manages to throw itself into the still deep water beyond. Instead of leaping, the female fish try to run through the foam and on from stone to stone until a last leap takes them over. Where no passes exist many fish are picked up dead, the majority of these prove to be males, and this preponderance is also noticeable upon the breeding grounds. The spawning redds are selected where the tributaries are clear and pure—where there is bright gravel and an entire absence of sediment. Here the fish settle down to their domestic duties, and their movements seem to be regulated by a dulling stupor. This facilitates observation, but it also assists the poacher in his silent trade. Once settled, the female fish scoops out a hollow in the sheltering gravel, and is closely attended by her lord. Whilst spawning is proceeding, observe with what care he attends her, and in what evolutions he indulges. He rises and falls, now passing over, now under her, and settling first upon this side, then upon that. Observe, too, how he drives off the young unfertile fish which are ever lying in wait to devour the spawn. The eggs are deposited at intervals in the sand, and when the milt has been fertilised the whole is covered over, there to remain until spring. The salmon deposits nearly a thousand eggs for every pound of its live weight, and from the quantity of spawn in some salmon rivers it would seem that nothing which man could do—save pollution—would have any appreciable influence upon the increase of the species. The fecundity of trout is even greater than that of salmon, while a tiny smelt of only two ounces contains upwards of thirty-five thousand eggs, and even these are as nothing compared with the rate of increase of several marine and "coarse" fish. An individual cod has yielded more than six million; a turbot fourteen million; and a twenty-eight pound conger eel fifteen million eggs.
The eggs of salmon are nearly as large as the seed of a garden pea, and those of good trout only slightly less. The ova is of a delicate salmon colour and the cell-walls are semi-transparent—so much so that the embryo shows plainly through. Although delicate in appearance they are elastic and capable of sustaining great pressure, and an egg thrown upon a flat surface will rebound like an india-rubber ball. The economy of the extreme prolificness of the sporting fishes of Britain can best be understood when we come to consider the host of enemies which beset both salmon and trout in the very first stages of their existence. Nature is prolific in her waste, and a whole army of nature's poachers have to be satisfied. So true is this that the yearly yield of the largest salmon-producing river in the kingdom is computed at about the produce ofone female fishof from fifteen pounds to twenty pounds in weight; the produce of all the rest being lost or wasted. Sometimes a single ill-timed spate will destroy millions of eggs by tearing them from the gravel and laying them bare to a whole host of enemies.[2]These enemies are in the air, on the land, in the water, and nothing short of an enumeration of them can convey any idea of their numbers and wholesale methods of destruction. In addition to the yearling salmon and trout which for ever haunt the skirts of the spawning grounds, there are always a number of mature unfertile fish which for a part of the year live entirely upon the spawn. An instance of this is recorded by a river watcher on the Thames, who states that while procuring trout ova in a stream at High Wycombe, he observed a pair of trout spawning on a shallow ford, and another just below them devouring the ova as fast as it was deposited by the spawner. The keeper netted the thief, and in its stomach was found upwards of two ounces of solid ova, or about three hundred eggs. Eels particularly root up the gravel beds, and the small river lamprey has also been seen busily engaged in the like pursuit. These have a method in going about their depredations that is quite interesting. Small parties of them work together, and by means of their suckers they remove the stones, immediately boring down after the hidden spawn. If a stone be too large for one to lift another will come to its aid, even four or five having been seen to unite their forces. It is a good-sized stone which can resist their efforts, and the mischief they do is considerable. Even water beetles and their larvæ must, on account of their numbers and voracity, come within the reckoning, and among the most destructive of these are water-shrimps and the larvæ of the dragon-fly. Have we not been told that while the loved May-fly is "on," all hours, meats, decencies, and respectabilities must yield to his caprice, so that the pink-spotted trout, rushing from every hover, may be lifted gently from its native stream to gasp away its life among the lush summer grass? But if the gauzy-winged fly is one of the loved likes of the trout, the former has its day, for none of the larvæ of water beetles is so destructive to spawn and fry as this. Pike and coarse fish are equally partial to the same repast, and even salmon and trout devour the young of their own kind. Waterfowl are among the trout-stream poachers, and the swan is a perfect gourmand. My swan and her crew (five cygnets) would dispose of two million five hundred thousand eggs in that time. Some of the best trout streams in the country have been depopulated of fish by these birds, and the Thames as a fishing river is now greatly suffering from the number of swans allowed upon it.[3]Both wild and domestic ducks are destructive to spawn and almost live on the "redds" during the breeding season. We have more than once shot moorhens in autumn with spawn dripping from their bills, and the birds themselves gorged with it. The coot has been charged with the same crime, though as yet guilt has only been brought home to it with regard to coarse fish; and to the silvery bleak it is said to be particularly partial. The grebe or dabchick must be looked upon as an arrant little poacher not only of eggs and fry but of fish in every stage of growth. It is said that a pair of dabchicks will do more harm on a river than a pair of otters, which, however, is perhaps not so terrible as it sounds. Fourteen little grebes fishing about a mile of trout stream, as we have known, is overstepping the balance of nature, and would certainly injure the river; and Mr. Bartlett has stated that a pair of these birds which he kept in confinement cost the Zoological Society a considerable sum in providing small fish for them. Frank Buckland had a grebe sent to him which had been choked by a bullhead, and the same fate has not unfrequently befallen kingfishers and other aquatic feeders. The vegetarian water-voles may be written down innocent with regard to spawn, or at the worst "not proven." Our British voles are miniature beavers that haunt the water sides and lead a fairy-like existence among the osier-beds and lily-pads. They know but little of winter, and therefore of the spawning season, and their delectable lives are lived on through ever-recurring summers. Until lately naturalists knew but little of the life-history of the voles, and the country folk called them "water-rats" and "field-mice," and knew little beyond except that they tunnelled their meadow-banks. As the little creatures pass from one bank to another they swim fearlessly towards the observer, and when within a few yards of the side suddenly disappear and enter their holes from beneath. Much abuse has been heaped upon the vole for its alleged propensity for destroying ova, but as yet nothing has been proved against it. We have watched scores of these little creatures feeding on the succulent leaves of water-plants, but have never detected them searching the "redds" or taking trout fry. It has been asserted that voles feed upon flesh when opportunity offers, but perhaps we cannot better vindicate their general character in this respect than by relating an incident which has occurred annually for some years past. In a quiet pool known to us, a couple of moorhens have annually hatched and reared one or more broods under the shadow of an old thorn-tree, the nest being interwoven with one of the lower boughs which floats on the surface of the water. Under the roots a pair of voles have annually brought forth several young families; and yet perfect amity seems to exist between the birds and the rodents. We have seen the eggs lying for hours uncovered and unprotected, and at other times the young birds, not more than a few hours old, swimming about in the water when the voles were constantly feeding, crossing and recrossing from bank to bank. If voles were addicted to killing birds the downy young of the moorhen would have afforded tender morsels, and have been easily obtained in a small confined pool ere they were able to take wing.
When the eggs of salmon and trout have been submitted to the action of clear running water for a few months they begin to hatch. Prior to this the young fish may be seen inside packed away in a most beautiful manner. The embryo increases in bulk until on some warm April day the tiny fish bursts its shell and finds itself in a wide world of waters. Individual eggs may be seen to hatch, and the process is most interesting. First the shell splits at the part corresponding to the back. Then a tiny head with golden eyes appears, and after two or three convulsive waves of his little tail the now useless shells fall from off him. He seems to enjoy the watery element in which he finds himself, for away he swims as fast as his tiny fins and wriggling tail will carry him, round and round in a circle, until presently he sinks down again to the sheltering gravel, for the first time breathing freely by his delicate gills. Every young salmon and trout has a tiny umbilical sac attached, and upon the contents of which it must feed until it has learnt to look out for itself, a period of from six to eight weeks. Frank Buckland has stated that no other animal increases so rapidly at so little cost, and becomes such a valuable article of food as the salmon. At three days old it is nearly two grains in weight; at sixteen months it has increased to two ounces, or four hundred and eighty times its first weight; at twenty months old, after the smolt has been a few months in the sea, it becomes a grilse of eight and a half pounds, having increased sixty-eight times in three or four months; at two and three-quarter years old it becomes a salmon of twelve pounds to fifteen pounds; after which its increased rate of growth has not been satisfactorily ascertained, but by the time it becomes thirty pounds it has increased one hundred and fifteen thousand two hundred times the weight it was at first.
The only parts of a young salmon or trout which is fully developed immediately it leaves the egg are its eyes. These are golden with a silver sheen, and beautifully bright—the great aids in steering clear of an almost innumerable set of enemies which this new stage of existence brings. And it is really difficult to say whether these game fishes have more enemies when in the egg or after they are hatched. Of some of the former we have already spoken, and now let us look to the latter.
The heron is a great trout-stream poacher, and destroys quantities of immature fish. This has long been known, but the fact received striking confirmation from an incident which occurred at the rearing-ponds at Stormontfield. Here a heron was shot as it left off fishing, when it immediately disgorgedfifty fry. In the trout stream the heron stands looking more like a lump of drift-stuff caught in the bushes than an animate object. Gaunt, consumptive, and sentinel-like, the bird watches with crest depressed, standing upon one leg. At other times it wades cautiously with lowered head and outstretched neck, each step being taken by a foot drawn gently out of the water, and as quietly replaced in advance. Occasionally the wader steps into a deep hole, but this causes not the slightest flurry. The walk is changed into a sort of swimming, and paddling deep in the water until the feet again touch firm ground. Woe to the trout or samlet that comes within range of the heron's terrible pike, for it is at once impaled and gulped down. This impalement is given with great force, and a wounded heron has been known to drive its strong bill right through a stout stick. If a fish is missed a sharp look-out is kept for its line of escape, and a stealthy step made towards it. Should the distance be beyond range of the bird's vision, a few flaps of the wings are tried in the eagerness of pursuit. Nothing from the size of fry to mature fish comes amiss to the heron, and the young whilst still in the nest consume great quantities. Their swallow is insatiable, though sometimes they gaff an individual which is difficult to dispose of. Shooting late one evening in summer we were standing by a stream the banks of which were riddled with the holes of water-voles. It was almost dark, when a large bird flapped slowly over the fields and alighted by the bank. It took its stand, and as we lay low its sketchy form was sharply outlined against the sky. It was a heron; and for an hour among the dank weeds and wet grass we watched it feed. After a prolonged struggle with some object in the water it rose. Just as it did so we fired, and running up to the winged bird were in time to see a live vole which it had disgorged. As an example of "the biter bit," it is related that a heron was seen one evening going to a piece of water to feed; the spot was visited the next morning, when it was discovered that the bird had stuck its beak through the head of an eel, piercing both eyes; the eel thus held had coiled itself so tightly round the neck of the heron as to stop the bird's respiration, and both were dead. Upon another occasion a heron is said to have swallowed a stoat, but in this case also the prey was promptly disgorged. An authoritative statement has been made to the effect that the heron's services in the destruction of pike, coarse fish, rats, and water-beetles may fairly be set off against its depredations in trout-streams. But to this we must dissent; and if a trout stream and a heronry are to flourish in the same neighbourhood, the former must be covered in with netting, especially during the spawning season.
Another bird which is an enemy to both salmon and trout in their fry stage is the black-headed gull. This bird with its laughing cry hovers over the stream and never lets slip an opportunity of snapping up a brown trout or silvery samlet that has left its place of refuge. The late Francis Francis was fully aware of this fact, and he set down both gulls and terns as most notorious offenders. A couple of hundred gulls will devour at least a thousand smolts per day; and the birds may be seen at Loch Lomond travelling to and from Gull Island and the burns all day, each with a trout or parr in its beak. This must have a considerable effect on the future supply of grilse in the Tweed.
As to what part the pretty white-breasted dipper plays in the economy of salmon rivers and trout streams naturalists are by no means agreed. Frank Buckland said that one might as well shoot a swallow skimming over a turnip-field as a dipper over the spawning beds. And this view of the dipper's economy we believe to be the right and just one. Last autumn we had occasion to walk over many miles of trout streams. In these, fish of every size were upon the gravel beds which constitute the spawning "redds." Almost at every turn the white chemisette of the brook bird glinted from some grey stone and went piping before us up stream. As many of these were seen actually rummaging among the pebbles, some few were shot for examination. Although the post-mortems were carefully conducted, no trace in any single instance of the presence of ova of either trout or salmon could be found, but only larvæ of water-haunting insects, roughly representing the four great families of trout-flies. In opposition to the above, however, it must be admitted that individual dippers have been seen with tiny fish in their bills, and even to feed their young ones upon them. Birds in confinement have also been fed upon minnows, but thispenchantmight be an acquired one. It may be asserted, then, that the ouzel has been known to eat fish, but that fish forms no chief portion of his food; and finally, that it would be quite incorrect to describe it as a fish-eating bird, and therefore as an enemy to salmon and trout. The birds will not long stay where the water is slow or logged; they must have the white foam, the torrent, the pebbly reaches, and the shallows. In fact, they could not obtain their food under conditions other than these. The mountain burns abound with various aquatic insects and their larvæ, and in limestone districts in innumerable fresh-water molluscs. As already shown, not only is the ouzel innocent of destroying eggs of salmon and trout, but it is indirectly beneficial to a fishery. It is well known that among the chief enemies to spawn are the larvæ known as caddisworms, that of the dragon-fly, May-fly and stone-fly, and also of the various water-beetles. Now all these have been found in the stomach of the dipper, and therefore it must confer a decided benefit on the salmon and trout streams which it haunts.
Of all our British birds none is so beautiful or so secluded in its habits as the kingfisher; and its presence is peculiarly in keeping with the rapid, rocky trout streams which it loves to haunt. Although glowing with metallic lustres, and beautiful in its adaptation and every movement, the kingfisher builds but a careless nest, a loose structure of dry fish bones—the hard indigestible parts of its food which, in common with birds of prey, it has the power of ejecting in pellets by the mouth. Again, let us look out the bird in its haunts. We follow the course of the hazel-fringed stream over a mile of its pebbly reaches; now a dipper flits from a green mossy stone, and a pair of sandpipers start with tremulous wings and skirt the shingle-strewn banks. Among the flags the water-voles gnaw the sweet saccharine aquatic plants, and the water-hens run and hide under the friendly roots of an overhanging thorn. The May-fly is upon the stream, the silvery fresh run fish are all animation, and even the great black trout in the "willow dub" condescends to take a fat blue-bottle that is spinning round and round the pool. Dragon-flies dart hither and thither, bronze fly and bee are upon the wing, and the carpet of grass and flowers is alive with innumerable insects, all busily engaged in fertilising their floral friends, or revelling in nectar, and gilded with golden pollen. The lime-trees are "a murmurous haunt of summer wings," and the breath of summer is on our cheek. Over there is an overhanging, leafless bough and upon it has just alighted a kingfisher. At first its form is motionless, then it assumes more animation, and anon is all eye and ear. Then it falls, hangs for a moment in the air like a kestrel, and returns to its perch. Again it darts with unerring aim and secures something. This is tossed, beaten and broken with a formidable beak, and swallowed head foremost. This process is again and again repeated, and we find that the prey is small fish. From watching an hour we are entranced with the beauty of the fluttering, quivering thing as the sun glints from its green and gold vibrations in mid-air. We gain some estimation, too, of the vast amount of immature fish which a pair of kingfishers and their young must destroy in a single season.[4]Later in summer the young brood may be seen with open quivering wings, constantly calling as the parent birds fly up and down stream. Their food consists almost entirely of fish throughout the year, though during the rigour and frosts of winter they betake themselves to the estuaries of tidal rivers, where their food of molluscs and shore-haunting creatures are daily replenished by the tides. Kingfishers are among the most persistent of trout-stream poachers, and as many as eighty of these beautiful birds have been killed in a season on a famous nursery in the midlands. As in the case of the heron, nothing will save the fry from these marauders but covering in the rearing ponds with the finest wire net. However one may wish to protect the kingfisher, there is no denying the fact of itspenchantfor fish, especially the fry of salmon and trout; the bad habit is bred in him.
The fact of salmon and trout devouring the spawn of their own kind has been already referred to, and unfortunately the practice is continued after the eggs are hatched. The big fish sometimes so terrify the tiny trout and samlets that the latter throw themselves clear out of the water and lay gasping on the pebbles, while the would-be devourer beats about the shallows disappointed at losing his prey. An old "kelt" salmon has been seen to devour fifty of his own progeny for breakfast; and the pike is a greater water-wolf still. This fish has been known to increase at the enormous rate of from eight to ten pounds a year when favourably placed for feeding. So voracious a creature is the pike, and furnished with such digestion, that it will destroy a half-pound trout a day for twelve months—a terrible drain upon any stream. Then it has an all-capacious maw for silvery smolts as they are making their way down to the sea, and of these at certain seasons it devours myriads. Of course pike keep coarse fish under, which are indirectly injurious to trout, and in this way confer a benefit upon the angler. There is another way in which he is beneficial, and that is as a scavenger. A diseased salmon or trout never lives more than a few minutes in his presence, for he gulps down fish, fungus, and all. In this connection there is one fact which ought not to be overlooked. Of late years disease has played terrible havoc in some of the best rivers in the country. In one of these, known to the writer, scarcely a fish is caught which does not show scars left by the disease—want of tail, partial loss of fins, and white patches where the fungus has previously grown. That numbers of the fish attacked do survive there can be no question; and that the disease may be prevented at the cost of a few fish we have but little doubt. This may be considered a bold assertion; but in these days of artificial rearing, re-stocking, and preservation, anglers and angling associations are apt either to forget or to ignore the balance of nature. Now, nature rarely overlooks an insult. Destroy her appointed instruments and beware of her revenge. That the salmon and trout may live a whole host of stream-haunting creatures are condemned, and that often upon the most insufficient evidence.
The creature against which the angler "breathes hot roarings out" is the otter. But how few fish does the otter really destroy! The evidence to be gathered by those who live along its streams all goes to show that eels and freshwater crayfish form the staple of its food. In search of these, it wanders miles in a night and will not partake of soft-bodied fish so long as they can be found. The economy of the otter ought not to be overlooked in connection with sport and our fish supply. Probably its increasing rarity has as much to do with the disease alluded to as had the extermination of the nobler birds of prey with the grouse disease. A falcon always takes the easiest chance at its prey; and an otter captures the slowest fish. In each case they kill off the weakest, the most diseased, and thereby secure the survival of the fittest. Most of the newspaper paragraphs anent the doings of otters are mere legendary stories without any foundation in fact. The otter is not a "fish-slicer." Salmon found upon the rocks with the flesh bitten from the shoulders are oftener than not there by agents other thanLutra. A great deal of unnatural history has been written concerning the "water-dog," mostly by those who have never had opportunity of studying the otter in its haunts. That it occasionally destroys fish we will not deny; but this liking has become such a stereotyped fact (?) in natural history that it is glibly repeated, parrot-like, and has continued so long, that most have come to accept it. Ask the otter-hunter, the old angler of the rocky northern streams, the field naturalist who has many a night stretched his length along a slab of rock to observe the otter at home—and each has the same answer. Abundance of otters and plenty of trout exist side by side; and where the fastnesses of the former are impregnable, there disease is foreign to the stream. Many otters, many trout; this is a bit of nature's economy there is no gainsaying. Here is an actual incident. There is a certain reach on a well-known trout stream which is so overgrown with wood and coppice as to render it unfishable. This reach swarms with handsome well-fed trout; and yet far back among the rocky shelves of the river a brood of otters are brought forth annually, have been in fact time out of mind. And yet another incident. Of forty-five dead otters killed in hunting, in two only were there remains of fish food, and this consisted of eels—deadly enemies either to trout stream or salmon river. These forty-five otters, for the most part, were killed before six in the morning, and consequently when their stomachs were most likely to contain traces of what had been taken in their night's fishing.
One of the most curious enemies of our freshwater fishes is a small floating water-weed, the bladderwort. Along its branchlets are a number of small green vesicles or bladders, which, being furnished with minute jaws, seize upon tiny fish, which are assimilated into its substance. This is a subtle poacher, the true character of which has only lately been detected. The bladderwort is a fairly common plant, and no very special interest attached to it ere its fish-eating propensities were discovered. Its tiny vesicles were known to contain air, and the only use of these so far as was known was to keep the plant afloat—a belief, be it remarked, all the more reasonable because many aquatic plants actually have such air receptacles for that very purpose. The tiny bladders attached to the leaves and leaf-stalks are each furnished with a door, the whole acting on the eel-trap principle, entrance being easy but exit impossible. There is nothing very formidable about the delicate green jaws of the vegetable trap, only that any tiny water creature that ventures in to look round out of mere curiosity never by any chance emerges alive. The first time that the bladder-wort was actually caught at its fish-poaching proclivities, so to speak, was by Professor Moseley, of Oxford. He and a friend had, in a large glass bowl, a plant of this species and also a number of young roach just hatched. The murderous plant held several of the tiny fish in its jaws; and upon an experiment being tried in a separate vessel, it was found that a single plant had captured no less than a dozen fish in the space of six hours. One of these was caught by the head, another by the tail, a third by the yolk-sac, and in another instance two bladders had seized the same fish, one holding on at each extremity. In spite of all this tiny ferocity it must be admitted that this little plant poacher is more interesting than dangerous, and so long as it confines its attention to coarse fish neither the salmon-fisher nor trout-angler will concern himself much about its aquatic depredations.
There is one wholesale method of destruction which particularly affects salmon, which cannot be passed over. This is done by almost innumerable nets, and is usually practised at the mouths of rivers and generally without the slightest regard to the economy of the fish supply. And it has been found that as salmon and the means of transit increase, so does the number of destructive nets. Theoretically, legislation is levelled against this wanton destruction, but practically the law is a dead letter. At every tide, in certain seasons, hundreds of thousands of salmon-fry and smolts are sacrificed; and in a certain firth it is recorded how a fisherman in his nets walked, in many places, knee deep in dead smolts, and that the ground for a considerable distance was silvered with their scales. Under these circumstances the samlets sometimes accumulate to such an extent that they have to be carted on to the nearest land and used as manure. This waste of valuable fish food is so great that it can hardly be reckoned, and in future years must tell greatly upon the British yield of salmon. Mill-wheels[5]and hatches, too, are often great sources of destruction.
Another enemy to salmon and trout is the great black cormorant—a poacher that studies their migratory and local movements, and acts accordingly. It is the habit of this bird to visit small rivers which flow into the sea, especially during the late winter and early spring months. At these seasons the smolts are preparing to come down, and the kelts of salmon and sea trout are assembling in the large pools prior to their return to salt water. A brace of cormorants which were shot at their fishing were found to contain twenty-six and fourteen salmon smolts respectively, and a trustworthy water bailiff asserts that he once watched a couple of cormorants hunt and kill a kelt salmon, and that after dragging it ashore they commenced tearing it up, when they were driven off. It was once thought that both the cormorant and heron only ate that which they could swallow whole, but this is now known not to be strictly correct.
And now, finally, we come to the man poacher. Fish poaching is practised none the less for the high preservation and stricter watching which is so characteristic of the times. In outlying country towns with salmon and trout streams in the vicinity it is carried on to an almost incredible extent. There are many men who live by it, and women to whom it constitutes a thriving trade. These know neither times nor seasons, and, like the heron and the kingfisher, poach the whole year round. They provide the chief business of the county police-court, and the great source of profit to the local fish and game dealer. The wary poacher never starts for his fishing grounds without having first secured his customer; and it is surprising with what lax code of morals the provincial public will deal when the silent night worker is one to the bargain. Of course the public always gets cheap fish and fresh fish—so fresh, indeed, that the life has not yet gone out of it. It is a perfectly easy matter to poach fish, and the difficulty lies in conveying them into the towns and villages. The poacher never knows but that he may meet some county constable along the unfrequented country roads, and consequently never carries his game upon him. This he secretes in stacks and ricks and disused farm buildings until such times as it may be safely sent for. Country carriers, early morning milk carts, and women are all employed in getting fish into town. In this the women are most successful. Sometimes they may be seen labouring under a heavy load carried in a sack, with faggots and rotten sticks protruding from the mouth; or again with a large basket innocently covered with crisp green cresses which effectually hide the bright silvery fish beneath.
The methods of the fish poacher are many. The chances of success, too, are greatly in his favour, for he works silently and always in the night. He walks abroad during the day and makes mental notes of men and fish. He knows the beats of the watchers, and has the waterside, as it were, by heart. He can work as well in the dark as in the light, and this is essential to his silent trade. During summer and when the water becomes low the fish congregate in deep "dubs." This they do for protection, and if overhung with trees there is always here abundance of food. If a poacher intends to net a "dub" he carefully examines every inch of its bottom beforehand. If it has been thorned, he carefully removes these small thorned bushes with stones attached, and thrown in by the watchers to entangle the poachers' nets and so allow the fish to escape. At night the poacher comes, unrolls his long net on the pebbles, and then commences operations at the bottom of the river reach. The net is dragged by a man at each side, a third wading after to lift it over the stakes, and so preventing the fish from escaping. When the end of the pool is reached the trout are simply drawn out upon the pebbles. This is repeated through the night until half-a-dozen pools are netted, and maybe depopulated of their fish. Netting of this description is a wholesale method of destruction, always supposing that the poachers are allowed their own time. It requires to be done slowly, however, and if alarmed they can do nothing but abandon their net and run. This is necessarily large, and when thoroughly wet is most cumbersome and exceedingly heavy. The capturing of a net stops the depredations of the poachers for a while, as these being large take long to make. For narrow streams pretty much the same method as that indicated above is used, only the net is smaller, and to it are attached two poles. The method of working this is similar to that of the last.
A species of poaching which the older hands rarely go in for is that of poisoning. Chloride of lime is the agent most in use, as it does not injure the edible parts. This is thrown into the river where fish are known to be, and its deadly influence is soon seen. The fish become poisoned and weakened, and soon float belly uppermost. This at once renders them conspicuous, and as they are on the surface of the stream, they are simply lifted out of the water in a landing-net. This is a wholesale and cowardly method, as it frequently poisons the fish for miles down stream; it not only kills the larger fish, but destroys great quantities of immature ones which are wholly unfit for food. Trout which come by their death in this way have the usually pink parts of a dull white, with the eyes and gill-covers of the same colour and covered with a thin white film. This substance, too, is much used in mills on the banks of trout streams, and probably more fish are destroyed by this kind of pollution in a month than the most inveterate poacher will kill in a year.
Throughout summer fish are in season, but the really serious poaching is practised during close time. When spawning, the senses of both salmon and trout seem to become dulled, and they are not at all difficult to approach in the water. The fish seek the higher reaches to spawn, and stay for a considerable time on the pebble beds. The salmon offer fair marks, and the poacher obtains them by spearing. A pronged instrument is driven into the fleshy shoulders of the fish, and it is hauled out on to the bank. In this way sometimes more fish are obtained in a single night than can be carried away; and when the gang is chased by the watchers the fish have generally to be left behind, as they are difficult things to carry. The flesh of spawning fish is loose and watery, and is most insipid and tasteless. It is, however, sold to the poorest class of people at a few pence per pound. In one outlying village during last close season poached salmon was so common that the cottagers fed their poultry upon it through the whole winter. It is said that several fish were taken each over twenty pounds in weight. Another way of securing salmon and trout from the spawning "redds" is by means of "click-hooks." These are simply large salmon-hooks bound together shaft to shaft and attached to a long cord; a bit of lead balances them and adds weight. These are used in deep rivers, where spearing by wading is impracticable. When a fish is seen the hooks are simply thrown beyond it, and then gently dragged until they come immediately beneath; a sharp "click" usually sends them into the soft under-parts of the fish, which is then drawn out. That natural poacher, the pike, is frequently ridded from trout streams in this fashion. Of course, poaching with click-hooks requires to be done in the light, or by the aid of an artificial one. Lights attract salmon and trout just as they attract birds, and tar brands are frequently used by poachers. Shooting is sometimes resorted to, but for this class of poaching the habits and beats of the water bailiffs require to be accurately known. The method has the advantage of being quick, and a gun in skilful hands and at a short distance may be used without injuring the fleshy parts of the body. That deadly bait, salmon roe, is now rarely used, the method of preparing it having evidently gone out with the old-fashioned poachers, who used it with such deadly effect.
The capture of either poachers or their nets is often difficult to accomplish. The former wind their sinuous way, snake-like, through the wet meadows in approaching the rivers, and their nets are rarely kept at home. These they secrete about farm buildings, in dry ditches, or among the bushes in close proximity to their poaching grounds. Were they kept at home the obtaining of a search warrant by the police or local angling association would always render their custody a critical one. They are sometimes kept in the poachers' houses, though only for a short period when about to be used. At this time the police have found them secreted in the chimney, between the bed and the mattress, or even wound about the portly persons of the poachers' wives. The women are not always simply aiders and abettors, but in poaching, sometimes play a more important rôle. They have frequently been taken red-handed by the watchers. The vocation of these latter is a hard one. They work at night, and require to be most on the alert during rough and wet weather—in the winter, when the fish are spawning. Sometimes they must remain still for hours in freezing clothes; and even in summer they not unfrequently lie all night in dank and wet herbage. They see the night side of nature, and many of them are fairly good naturalists. If a lapwing gets up and screams in the darkness they know how to interpret the sound, as also a hare rushing wildly past. It must be confessed, however, that at all points the fish poacher is cleverer and of readier wit than the river watcher.