even earlier if the weather should prove mild, they begin to repair
the old nests and build new ones. The nests are placed on the topmost
branches of the tree--elm, oak, birch, or fir; but an elm-tree is
generally made choice of. The tree to suit the rook must be tall--if
possible, the tallest tree in the place--for it is the instinct of
the bird not only to have his house far out of reach of all possible
terrestrial enemies, but so placed that a wide and uninterrupted view
of earth and sky may be obtained from it. As things now are his winged
enemies do him little hurt, but it was not always so. In the next
place, the branches must afford a suitable foundation to build on:
they must be strong, and forked, so as to hold the fabric securely
during high winds and sudden violent storms; furthermore, there must
be a clear space above or at the side, to enable the bird to approach
and leave it without striking against the surrounding boughs. It is
a well-known fact that rooks will desert a rookery when the trees
are decaying, even when, to a human eye, they appear sound. The most
probable explanation which has yet been offered of this fact is, that
a considerable amount of pliancy in the branches is necessary for the
safety of the nest; for if the branches do not yield and sway to the
force of the wind, the nest is in danger of being blown bodily out of
its place: in the decaying tree the upper branches become too stiff,
from the insufficient supply of sap.
The building and repairing time is one of great and incessant
excitement in the rookery; and it is curious to note that birds of such
a social disposition, and able to live together in concord at all other
times, are at this period extremely contentious. As a rule, when one
bird is abroad foraging for sticks, his mate remains on guard at the
nest. Among these watchers and the birds that are leaving and arriving
there is much loud cawing, which sounds like ‘language,’ in the slang
sense of the word; and it might appear that they were all at strife,
and each one fighting for himself. But it may be observed that a
majority of the birds respect each other’s rights, and never come into
collision, and that there are others, in most cases a very few, who
depart from these traditions, and are, like freebooters, always on the
watch to plunder sticks from their neighbours’ nests, instead of going
afield to gather them. The presence of these objectionable members of
the community may account for some of the curious episodes in the life
of the rookery--as, for instance, the fact that all the birds will
sometimes combine to persecute one pair, and demolish their nest again
and again as fast as it is made.
The nest, when completed, is a large structure, two feet or more in
diameter, made of sticks, and lined with dry grass. The eggs are four
to six in number, and are bluish green, spotted and blotched with
greyish purple and dull brown.
During incubation the male assiduously feeds his sitting mate, and
occasionally changes places with her; and after the young are out of
the shells both parents are engaged incessantly in collecting food for
them. From early morning until dark they may be seen flying to and from
the rookery, on each return journey carrying a cluster of worms and
grubs in the mouth.
When the young are fully fledged they are seen perching awkwardly
on the branches near the nest, occasionally making short, tentative
flights, and apparently anxious to go forth into that wide green world
spread out beneath their cradle and watch-tower. They are, happily,
ignorant of the doom that awaits them; for the time is now near when
the blood-tax must be levied on the community--the price which is paid
for protection; and, the young only being eatable, the slaughter must
fall on them. As a rule, a few of the young escape death, as, when the
shooting begins, and the old birds rise in haste to scatter in all
directions, a few of the most advanced young birds that are already
strong on the wing follow their parents to a place of safety.
After the breeding season, which is usually over at the beginning of
June, the rookery is forsaken; in some cases the birds disappear, and
do not return until the next spring; more often they pay an occasional
visit to the rookery, and some rookeries are visited almost daily
by the birds. But for the rest of the year their roosting-place is
elsewhere, often at a considerable distance. In districts where rooks
are abundant there is generally one great roosting-place, where the
communities inhabiting the country for many miles around are accustomed
to congregate at the end of each day. As the evening draws near the
birds begin to arrive from two, or three, or more directions, in
detachments or long, loose trains, flying steadily, at an equal height
above the ground. Where they settle the tree-tops are black with their
numbers; and as fresh contingents pour in the noise of the cawing grows
louder and more continuous, until it is in volume like the sound of a
surging sea. At intervals large numbers of birds rise up, to hang like
a black cloud above the trees for some minutes, but as the evening
darkens they all finally settle down for the night; still, in so vast
an assemblage there are always many waking individuals, and a noise of
subdued cawing may be heard throughout the hours of darkness. With the
returning light there is a renewal of the loud noise and excitement,
as the birds rise up and wheel about in the air before setting out on
their journey to their distant feeding-grounds.
Raven.
Corvus corax.
[Illustration: FIG. 57.--RAVEN. ¹⁄₁₂ natural size.]
Black with purple reflections; tail black; iris with two circles, the
inner grey, the outer ash-brown. Length, twenty-five inches.
* * * * *
The raven has the reputation, true or false, of being one of the
longest-lived birds; certainly it is one of the hardiest, and capable
of adapting itself to the greatest extremes of temperature. Its range
in the northern hemisphere extends from the regions of ‘thick-ribbed
ice’ to the damp, hot woods and burning coasts of Southern Mexico and
Central America. The tropical jaguar may help it to a meal at one
extremity of its range, the polar bear at the other. Compared to such
diversities of climate and of other conditions, those of the British
Islands are as nothing. From the Isle of Wight and the southern
coast to the northern extremity of Scotland, and beyond, to ‘utmost
Kilda’s lonely isle,’ the raven has lived in what, to a bird of his
grit, must have been a very pleasant garden with a mild and equable
temperature throughout the year. Formerly he was a fairly common bird
in all parts of our island, and it is probable that some protection
was accorded to him by owners of large estates, in spite of his evil
reputation, on account of some such sentiment as now exists with
regard to the rook. A pair of ravens in a woodland district, Seebohm
says, ‘was often considered the pride and pest of the parish.’ But
the sentiment, if it existed, was not strong enough, and the constant
persecution of the bird by its two principal enemies, the gamekeeper
and the shepherd, joined by a third during the present century in the
‘collector,’ has gradually driven it from all, or well-nigh all, its
ancient inland haunts, and it now exists in its last strongholds, the
rugged iron-bound sea-coast on the northern coasts of Scotland and the
neighbouring islands. A few--a very few--pairs are still to be met with
on some of the cliffs on the south and south-west coasts of England,
and on the Welsh coast; but even in the rudest and most solitary
localities inhabited by it the bird can keep its hold on life only by
means of a wariness and sagacity exceeding that of most other wild and
persecuted species.
Like most of the members of its family, the raven is omnivorous,
feeding indiscriminately on grubs, worms, insects, grain, fruit,
carrion, and animal food of all kinds. Being so much bigger and more
powerful than other crows, with a larger appetite to satisfy, he is
more rapacious in his habits, and bolder in attacking animals of
large size. He will readily attack a small lamb left by its dam, and
pick out its eyes; but, as a rule, his attacks on lambs and sheep are
confined to the very young and to the sickly or dying. He also attacks
hares, rabbits, and birds of various kinds, when he finds them ailing
or wounded by shot. He is fond of eggs, as well as of nestlings, and
plunders the nests of the sea-birds that inhabit the cliffs in his
neighbourhood. But the greatest part of his food consists of dead
animal matter cast up by the sea, and carrion of all kinds: a dead
sheep will afford him pasture for some days, and keep him out of
mischief--for he can be hawk or vulture as occasion offers.
In appearance the raven is a larger rook or carrion crow; he is a
fine bird, and his large size, the uniform blackness of his plumage,
and his deep, harsh, and human-like, croaking voice, strongly impress
the imagination. But the effect produced on the mind by the raven
is, doubtless, in part due to the bird’s reputation, to its ancient
historical fame, its large place in our older literature, and to the
various sombre superstitions connected with it. When feeding on a
carcase his appearance is not engaging: there is a lack of dignity in
his sidling or ‘loping’ motions, and savage haste in tearing at the
flesh, with a startled look round after each morsel. When disturbed
from his repast the slow, cumbrous, flapping flight as he rises
strongly reminds you of the vulture. He makes a nobler figure when
soaring high in the air, or along the face of some huge beetling cliff
that fronts the sea; for then his flight has power and ease as he falls
and rises, playing, like a giant chough or jackdaw, with his mate.
The raven pairs for life, and uses the same nest year after year. A
pair or two may still breed in a tree somewhere in Scotland or in the
north of England, but, in almost all cases, the bird now makes his nest
on a ledge of rock on some cliff on the sea-coast. It is a rude, bulky
structure, formed of sticks and heather, and lined with grass and wool.
The eggs are four to six in number, bluish green in ground-colour, more
or less thickly spotted and marked with dark olive-brown.
The raven is the earliest bird to breed in this country: the
nest-building begins in January, and the eggs are laid in February or
March.
* * * * *
Besides the eight species described, a ninth member of the corvine
family has been included among British birds; this is the nutcracker
(_Nucifraga caryocatactes_), a very irregular straggler to our shores
from northern Europe.
Skylark.
Alauda arvensis.
Upper parts varied with three shades of brown, the darkest of which
lies along the shaft of each feather; a faint whitish streak over the
eye; throat white; under parts yellowish white tinged with brown; the
throat and sides of neck with dark brown lanceolate spots, which form a
gorget just above the breast. Length, seven inches and a quarter.
* * * * *
[Illustration: FIG. 58.--SKYLARK. ⅓ natural size.]
The skylark is so universally diffused in these islands, and so
abundant, well known, and favourite a species, that anything beyond
a brief and prosaic account of its habits would appear superfluous.
His image, better than any pen can portray it, already exists in every
mind. A distinguished ornithologist, writing of the sparrow, declines
to describe its language, and asks his reader to open his window and
hear it for himself. In like manner, I may ask my reader to listen to
the lark’s song, which exists registered in his own brain. For he must
have heard it times without number, this being a music which, like
the rain and sunshine, falls on all of us. If someone, too curious,
should desire me not to concern myself with the images and registered
sensations of others’ brains, but to record here my own impressions and
feelings, I could but refer him to Shelley’s ‘Ode to a Skylark,’ which
describes the bird at his best--the bird, and the feeling produced
on the listener. Some ornithologist (I blush to say it) has pointed
out that the poet’s description is unscientific and of no value;
nevertheless, it embodies what we all feel at times, although we may
be without inspiration, and have only dull prose for expression. It is
true there are those who are not moved by nature’s sights and sounds,
even in her ‘special moments,’ who regard a skylark merely as something
to eat with a delicate flavour. It is well, if we desire to think the
best that we can of our fellows, to look on such persons as exceptions,
like those, perhaps fabled, monsters of antiquity who feasted on
nightingales’ tongues and other strange meats.
The skylark inhabits open places, and is to be met with on pastures,
commons, downs, and mountain slopes; but he prefers arable land, and
is most abundant in cultivated districts. In winter his song may
be occasionally heard in mild weather; in February it becomes more
frequent, and increases until the end of March, when it may be said
that his music is at full flood; and at this high point it continues
for several months, during which time successive broods are reared. A
more inexhaustible singer than the lark does not exist; and when we
consider how abundant and widely diffused the bird is, the number of
months during which he is vocal, and the character of the song--a rapid
torrent of continuous sound--it is almost possible to believe that the
melody from this one species actually equals in amount that from all
the other song-birds together.
The nest, made in April, is a slight hollow in the ground in a
cornfield, or among the grass of a meadow, or any open place, and is
composed of dry grass and moss, lined with fine grass and horsehair.
The eggs are four or five in number, greyish white, spotted and clouded
with greenish brown. Two or three broods are reared.
In September the skylarks begin to assemble in flocks and shift their
ground. At this season they migrate in large numbers; but many remain
throughout the year, except in the more northern districts. Large
flocks of migrants from the Continent also appear during the winter
months.
In winter the lark feeds chiefly on seeds; in summer he is an insect as
well as a seed eater.
Woodlark.
Alauda arborea.
Upper parts reddish brown, the centre of each feather dark brown; a
distinct yellowish white streak above the eye, extending to the back
part of the head; under parts yellowish white streaked with dark brown.
Tail very short. Length, six and a half inches.
* * * * *
In appearance the woodlark is a lesser skylark, with a shorter tail
in proportion to the body, and no apparent difference in colour,
except that the spots on the breast and the pale streak over the eye
are more conspicuous. It ranks with the six or eight finest British
songsters, but is the least known of all. The tree-pipit, sometimes
called woodlark, is a much better known songster. When the woodlark
is seen and heard he is taken by most people for the skylark. The
mistake is easily made, the song having the same character, and is a
continuous stream of jubilant sound, delivered in the same manner; for
the woodlark, too, soars, ‘and soaring, sings.’ He differs from the
skylark in his manner of rising: that bird goes up and up, not quite
vertically, but inclining now to this side, now to that, with intervals
of suspension, but still as if drawn heavenwards by an invisible cord
or magnet; the woodlark ascends in circles, and finally does not
attain to so great a height. He also sings on his perch on a tree, and
rises from the tree to sing aloft, and in this habit he is like the
tree-pipit. Although the woodlark’s song resembles that of the larger
bird in character, there is more sameness in the flow of sounds, and
it is not so powerful; on the other hand, the sounds are sweeter in
quality. Of the two, he is the more constant singer, and may be heard
in mild weather throughout the autumn and winter months. His usual call
is a melodious double note.
The woodlark is very local in its distribution; it is nowhere common,
and its range in this country is a somewhat limited one. In the north
of England it is very rare, and in Scotland it has only once been
observed breeding. In Ireland it breeds in some localities. It inhabits
wooded parks and the borders of woods and commons, and grass-lands in
the vicinity of trees and hedgerows; for although it feeds, roosts,
and nests on the ground, it must, like the tree-pipit, have trees to
perch on; and, like that bird, it has a favourite perch, where it may
be confidently looked for at any hour of the day during the spring and
summer months.
The nest is placed in a slight hollow in the ground, under a bush, or
sheltered by grass and herbage, and is formed of dry grass and moss,
and lined with finer grass and hair. The eggs are four or five in
number, buffish or faint greenish white in ground-colour, freckled and
spotted with reddish brown, with purple-grey under-markings. Three, and
even four, broods are said to be reared in the season.
In autumn and winter the woodlarks unite in families or small flocks,
and at this season they have a partial or internal migration, the birds
that breed in the northern counties moving south. In the southern and
south-western counties they remain stationary, and it is observed that
during a spell of mild weather in winter these small flocks break up,
but re-form at the return of cold.
Besides the two indigenous larks, we have as rare stragglers the
following four species: the crested lark (_Alauda cristata_), an
inhabitant of Europe and Asia; the short-toed lark (_Calendrella
brachydactyla_), from southern Europe; the white-winged lark
(_Melanocorypha sibirica_), a Siberian species, obtained once in
England; and the shore-lark (_Otocorys alpestris_), an irregular
winter visitor from North Europe, Asia, and America.
Swift.
Cypselus apus.
Sooty brown; chin greyish white; tarsi feathered; bill, feet, and claws
shining black. Length, seven and a half inches.
* * * * *
The swift arrives in this country about the end of April or early
in May, and from that time onwards, throughout the spring and
summer months, day after day, from morning until evening, he may be
seen overhead, in twos, threes, and half-dozens, pursuing his mad,
everlasting race through the air. Even as late as ten o’clock in the
evening, or later, when his form can no longer be followed by the
straining sight, his shrill, exulting cry may be heard at intervals,
now far off, and now close at hand, showing that the daylight hours of
these northern latitudes are not long enough to exhaust his wonderful
energy. It has even been supposed by some naturalists that, when not
incubating, he spends the entire night on the wing. This is hard to
believe; but if we consider his rate of speed, and the number of hours
he visibly spends on the wing, it would be within the mark to say that
the swift, in a sense, ‘puts a girdle round the earth’ two or three
times a month. Year after year the swifts return to the same localities
to breed, and there are few towns, villages, hamlets, or even isolated
mansions and farmhouses in the British Islands where this bird is
not a summer guest. The bunch of swifts to be seen rushing round the
tower of every village church are undoubtedly the same birds, or their
descendants, that have occupied the place from time immemorial; and it
is probable that the annual increase is just sufficient to make good
the losses by death each year. It is hard to believe that a life so
strenuous can last very long, and impossible to believe that birds so
free of the air are subject to many fatal accidents. A spell of intense
frost is very fatal to them in spring, but the cold is their only enemy
in this country.
The black swift, or ‘develing,’ or ‘screecher,’ as he is sometimes
named, with his exceedingly long, stiff, scythe-shaped wings, still
‘urging his wild career’ through the air, is a figure familiar to
everyone. And his voice, too, is a familiar sound to every ear. It is
usually described as a harsh scream. Wild and shrill and piercing it
certainly is, but it varies greatly with the bird’s emotions, and is at
times a beautiful silvery sound, which many would hear with delight if
uttered by the song-thrush or nightingale.
The swift breeds in holes in church-towers and in houses, its favourite
site being under the eaves of a thatched cottage; it also nests in
crevices in the sides of chalk-pits and sea-cliffs, and sometimes in
hollow trees. A slight nest of straw and feathers, made to adhere
together with the bird’s saliva, is built, and two eggs are laid;
they are oval in form, white in colour, and have rough shells. One
brood only is reared in the season, and the birds depart at the end of
August, but stragglers may be met with as late as October.
* * * * *
The white-bellied swift (_Cypselus melba_) is known in England
as a rare straggler from Central and Southern Europe. A still rarer
straggler from Eastern Siberia, where it breeds, is the needle-tailed
swift (_Acanthyllis caudacuta_); of this species not more than two
or three specimens have been obtained in this country.
Nightjar.
Caprimulgus europæus.
Ash-grey spotted and barred with black, brown, and chestnut; first
three primaries with a large white patch on the inner web, the two
outer tail-feathers on each side tipped with white. Length, ten and a
quarter inches.
* * * * *
[Illustration: FIG. 59.--NIGHTJAR. ⅕ natural size.]
The nightjar, or goatsucker, is the representative of a type widely
distributed on the earth; we have only one species, just as we have but
one swift, one kingfisher, one wryneck, and one cuckoo. And, having but
one, and this being so singular a bird, unlike all other species known
to us, in structure, colouring, language, and habits, he excites a
great deal of interest, and is very well known, although a night-bird,
nowhere abundant, and a sojourner with us for only about four months
and a half out of the twelve. He arrives in this country about the
middle of May, and inhabits commons, moors, and stony places, and is
also to be met with in woods. He is found in all suitable localities
throughout Great Britain, but is more local in Ireland. Year after
year he returns to the same spot to breed, faithful as the swift to
its church-tower and the wryneck to its hollow tree, although the
unforgotten spot may be on level waste land with a uniform surface.
During the daylight hours he sits on the ground among bracken or
heather, or by the side of a furze-bush, or in some open place where
there is no shelter; but so long as he remains motionless it is all
but impossible to detect him, so closely does he resemble the earth in
colour. And here we see the advantage of his peculiar colouring--the
various soft shades of buff and brown and grey, which at a short
distance harmonise with the surroundings, and render him invisible.
When perching on a tree he makes himself invisible in another way:
his habit is to perch, not crossways on a branch, but lengthways. He
rises from the ground when almost trodden on, and goes away with a
silent flight, darting this way and that in an eccentric course, and
looking more like a great grey mottled and marbled moth than a bird.
After going a short distance he drops to earth just as suddenly as he
rose. After sunset he may be seen on the borders of woods, by the side
of hedges, and in meadows near the water, pursuing his insect prey,
dashing rapidly along, with quick turns and doublings, as of a lapwing
at play. At this hour his curious reeling, spinning, or whirring
song may be heard, a little like the song of the grasshopper warbler
in character; but the warbler’s song is a whisper by comparison. ‘The
sound,’ Yarrell truly says, ‘can be easily imitated by vibrating the
tongue against the roof of the mouth; but the imitation, excellent as
it may be close to the performer, is greatly inferior in power, being
almost inaudible to anyone twenty yards off, while the original can be
heard in calm weather for half a mile or more.’ Of the other curious
vocal performance of the nightjar the same author says: ‘On the wing,
while toying with his mate, or executing his rapid evolutions round
the trees, ... the cock occasionally produces another sound, which, by
some excellent observers, has been called a squeak, but to the writer
is exactly like that which can be made by swinging a whipthong in the
air.’ Most of the names the bird is called by have reference to its
summer song--spinner, wheelbird, night-churn, and churn-owl.
The nightjar deposits its two eggs on the bare ground; their colour
is white or cream, blotched, mottled, clouded, and veined with brown,
blackish brown, and grey. One brood is reared in the season. The return
migration is in September.
* * * * *
A single specimen of the red-necked nightjar (_Caprimulgus
ruficollis_), an inhabitant of South-western Europe, has been
obtained in this country; and (in 1883) one specimen of the Egyptian
nightjar (_Caprimulgus ægyptius_), was shot in Nottinghamshire.
Spotted Woodpecker.
(Great Spotted Woodpecker.)
Dendrocopus major.
Crown and upper parts black; a crimson patch on the back of the head;
a white spot on each side of the neck; scapulars, lesser wing-coverts,
and under parts white; belly and under tail-coverts crimson.
_Female_: without crimson on the head. Length, nine and a half
inches.
* * * * *