WORKERS ALL THE YEAR ROUND.
THE HOUSE SPARROW.
(_Passer domesticus._)
This is among birds what the street-boy is in the towns--merry,
audacious, obtrusive and quarrelsome, always moving and picking up what
it can. A human habitation without Sparrows is inconceivable. In the
street it rummages in the tracks of the horses; in the markets, it sees
when the stall-keeper is dozing, and helps itself out of her basket to
anything that takes its fancy.
When the wheat ears are soft it betakes itself to the fields and fills
its stomach and also feeds its young with their milky juice; when the
corn is ripe he attacks it and knocks more grains out of the ears than
it can possibly eat. It does the same with cherries, mulberries, and all
kinds of seeds. It also breaks off young buds and the points of young
shoots.
It drags the Titmice out of their nest-holes and establishes itself
there. It presence is easy to recognise by the straws sticking out of
the hole. The only method of preventing this is to make the
entrance-hole narrower and to hang the nest-hole lower down.
It is true that when there is a great abundance of cockchafers it
consumes a great quantity of these creatures; but as soon as it finds
something it likes better, and is easily obtained, he leaves the
destructive chafers to others. The most useful service it does is in
severe snowy winters, when, in company with a large number of other
Sparrows, it scours the fields and picks up the seeds of noxious weeds;
besides this it feeds its young with insects. It should not be suffered
to increase too much, for it does on the whole considerable mischief.
The humane way of lessening its numbers, as we have before pointed out,
is to pull down the nest wherever we can.
* * * * *
A word for our English Sparrows. E. Newman, F.Z.S., says: “A
Sparrow-hawk left to himself, even by scaring the Sparrow from ripe
grain, will save the wages of at least ten boys.” And the head gardener
of a large garden which was protected with a network of black cotton
only, said: “Nobody knows what good a Sparrow does in a garden. In
fields it eats charlock, chickweed, plaintain, buttercup, knot-grass,”
etc. When the hay lies in swathes in the fields it haunts them in quest
of what are called “haychaffers”; craneflies, earwigs, blight, etc., are
part of its prey. “They have been known,” writes Curtis of Sparrows in
“Farm Insects,” “to gorge themselves with the larvæ of the May-bug till
they were unable to fly.” A French writer says: “Under one Sparrow’s
nest the rejected wing-cases of cockchafers were picked up; they
numbered over 1,400. Thus one pair had destroyed more than 700 insects
to feed one brood.” Much of the harm attributed to Sparrows is the work
of a small Weevil, which is very destructive to many kitchen-garden
plants. Mr. Joseph Nunn of Royston, a farmer, writing of the Sparrow
during 1897, says that Sparrows do not eat more corn from the stacks
than other Finches or the Buntings, and that a farmer must learn how to
protect his property the same as any other tradesman.
As to its colour, we may say that its crown is grey with chestnut
stripes, throat black--that is, the male bird. The throat of the female
is whitish, and there are whitish lines on the head and over the eyes.
Beak strong, wedge-shaped, pointed. The whole bird suggests strength. It
lays five or six eggs, which are white, thickly speckled with dark
marks. The nest is composed of straw, wood, tow, hair and feathers
carelessly put together, still it is soft and warm. This bird breeds
twice a year, sometimes three times.
THE TREE SPARROW.
(_Passer Montanus._)
The habits of this Sparrow vary from those of the house species in that
it dwells among fields and foothills where wood and thicket alternate.
It also frequents gardens, and behaves very audaciously. In hollow
places in old trees it is sure to be met with. It is a bold builder, and
will place its nest with us in Hungary under the Eagle’s eyrie, or the
Stork’s nest. It may generally be said to be a hole-nester, and a much
greater insect eater than its congener the House Sparrow.
Its manner of nesting makes it all the more dangerous to the artificial
nest-holes, and we cannot guard them against this species, either by
decreasing the size of the entrance or by placing the nest-holes lower;
it drags the Tits out and takes possession of the hole; the only thing
that can be done is to drive it away with small shot; otherwise we
should harbour Tree Sparrows instead of Tits, and, although they are not
as numerous as the House Sparrow the supply of them is more than enough.
* * * * *
The Tree Sparrow is also rarer with us in Great Britain than its
ubiquitous relative. It is quite local as to habitat. Until quite
recently it was unknown in Ireland. Large numbers arrive, however, in
autumn along the east coast, and its settlements in Scotland are chiefly
on the eastern side, up as far as Sutherland. Its nest with us will be
found at times at some distance from human dwellings; in the soft rotten
wood of trees often, but it builds also about farm-buildings, beneath
roof-tilings and in cliffs by the sea. The eggs are more glossy than
the House Sparrow’s; two and even three broods will be reared in a
season. The young are fed on caterpillars and other insects, soft
vegetable matter, etc., but in winter both young and old frequent
farmyards, and visit the ricks; also they seek grain among
horse-droppings in the streets. The illustration shows the difference in
the markings of the two species of Sparrow.
This bird is smaller than the House Sparrow, and more slender. The
colouring is, on the whole, the same in the male and female birds. From
crown to tail it is chestnut brown, passing into ash-grey, with dark
markings round the ears and on the throat. Both in colour and demeanour
it is a true Sparrow. It lays five or six, occasionally seven,
light-coloured speckled eggs.
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE HEDGE SPARROW.]
THE HEDGE SPARROW.
(_Accentor modularis._)
This is no vulgar little city arab, picking about in untidy stables, in
the refuse on the streets, and among the droppings of horses. Does not
its Latin name rather proclaim it one of the aristocrats of bird life.
Its dress may be dull-coloured, but its form and its motions are not
inelegant, despite its familiar name of “Shufflewings” and “Smokie,” in
deference to its characteristic motion and its colouring. Head and nape
are a bluish-grey, streaked with brown, back and wings are a
reddish-brown, streaked blackish; the lower wing-coverts are tipped with
clayish colour, in bar-fashion, underparts a dull white; the sides are
marked with dark streaks on a pale reddish-brown ground; the bill brown,
the base being of a lighter shade; the legs and feet are yellow brown.
Length 5.5 inches. The slate-grey on the head and throat is not seen on
the young birds, which are browner and more spotted than the adults.
This is a friendly bird and very easily tamed, so that it will often
bring its mate to the kitchen door for food in winter, and its song is
more melodious than many of our singers. The nest is built of moss, bits
of stick, roots, and dry grass, in all kinds of hedges, or roadside
thickets. The eggs, four to six, greenish-blue without spots and rough
in texture. Many bird-lovers refuse to call this bird by the plebian
name of Sparrow, with them it is always the Hedge Accentor.
The food of this bird mainly consists of caterpillars, eggs of insects,
wood-lice, earwigs, chrysalids, small seeds of weeds, house-refuse,
etc.
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE SKYLARK.]
THE SKYLARK.
(_Alauda arvensis._)
It can raise a tuft on its head at will. A long, slightly hooked claw is
on the back toe. The nest is placed on the ground, more rarely among
corn or meadow grass, but rather on fallow ground or clover field, among
low thick growth; it assimilates so closely with its surroundings that
it is difficult to discover. It usually contains five eggs, which, being
of a dingy, grey-green speckled with a darker colour, also somewhat
resemble the colour of the earth.
This Lark occurs most numerously in the northern regions, and as regards
its habits is one of the best known and most popular of birds. It
arrives in Hungary early in the spring, settles down, and does not allow
any other bird to approach it, pecking them away if possible. Its little
territory often occupies only a hundred paces. The different territories
are contiguous, and disputes between the neighbours are perpetually
going on. The combatants may constantly be seen, darting here and there
with lightning speed, flying near the ground, in pursuit of one another.
During the pairing and brooding-time the male bird sings unweariedly,
flinging his song into the air. He rises towards the sky, with vibrating
wings, higher and higher, dropping his ever-changing trilling
notes,--often rising to such a height that he disappears from sight and
the song dies away. Then suddenly he reappears, becomes silent, and
drops like a stone to earth.
In his poem “In Winter,” Johann Arány says of the Lark:--
“Like the poor poet,
Who in the sun’s bright rays spreads out his wing
And bears towards heaven his song: he turns and falls,
And he is silent.”
The Lark lives partly on seeds, but its chief food is gathered from the
insect world. It is almost universally considered by epicures a great
delicacy, and is snared by thousands. Fortunately it exists in great
numbers, but its snaring is to be deprecated.
* * * * *
In England larks have been very largely eaten, but happily the practice
is now most strongly opposed by thoughtful people. If the consumption of
Larks in our country went on as it was doing a few years ago the species
would soon be extinct. Yet this singer--whom poets have delighted to
honour and one--possibly because of its alert ways and its sentinel-like
attitude--which Julius Cæsar chose as an emblem for one of his famous
legions,--devours wireworms, grubs and various larvæ when these lie
hidden in the short winter pastures, and just at the stage when the
latter are most greedy of nourishment, so that the grass would suffer
incredibly but for the bird’s work. A recent authority stated that it
was to be deplored that not a tenth part of the Skylarks that formerly
frequented the Midland pastures were there now. Unfortunately this bird
is a favourite among those who are given to the caging of singing birds.
This bird is bigger and more slender than the Sparrow, and the colouring
generally of the upper parts is a warm yellowish-brown. It is
distinguished from its congener, the Woodlark, by its tail feathers. The
two outermost feathers are white, growing darker only about the shaft.
The outer web of the second feather is white. The tail feathers have
dark-brown centres and tawny edges.
THE KINGFISHER.
(_Alcedo ispida._)
The Kingfisher is the arch-enemy of the fish, and it is hardly credible
that this relatively small bird, should gulp down, as it does, fish as
long as your finger, in order to fill his stomach. It digests very
quickly, and spits out the bones, scales, and fins. It watches, from a
bough, for the little fish. Where a bush bending over the water
undisturbed by the eddy forms a calm mirror,--there does this
resplendent fish-poacher settle itself on an overhanging bough, to
watch--motionless and with incredible tenacity--the water and the living
things beneath it. If a trout or other small fish, feeling quite safe,
comes to the surface, the Kingfisher drops on it like a piece of lead;
it grasps its prey with its sharp beak, and, shaking the water from its
plumage, flies back to its perch, gulps down its delicate morsel, and
sets itself again to watch. Its colour protects the bird when diving.
The underparts are much the same colour as a fallen leaf, and this
arouses no suspicion in the fish--the back, on the other hand, shines
like the blue shimmer of the running stream, and that often protects the
bird from the circling Sparrow-hawk. If it comes to a flat shore on the
side of a small stream, which offers no overhanging perching place, it
settles on a stake or a clod of earth, and now and then hovers over the
water, and flutters like a hawk. It is an inconstant bird. It appears,
and disappears from a district, and then, perhaps after some years,
presents itself again. Its flight is rapid, and it raises its cry, as it
goes, “_teet_.”
It does harm, but is scarce in Hungary.
* * * * *
[Illustration: HARMFUL.
THE KINGFISHER.]
In Great Britain it was also becoming scarce, but of late years Bird
Protection and the ever increasing number of bird-lovers has been in
favour of this beautiful ornament of streams and meadows. It is,
however, often shot because its feathers are of value for dressing
artificial flies. Personally I could not call a bird hurtful because it
seeks the food which its Creator _intended_ it to eat, which is no more
the property of man when it is taken in its natural conditions than it
is that of the bird, and I confess I would rather see the brilliant blue
of the Kingfisher flash up a meadow stream than the angler’s figure
there with his rod.
The Kingfisher is seven and a half inches long, a short thick set bird,
with short tail and straight pointed beak, which sticks out like a lath
nail. The colouring of its plumage, which, in its flight, sparkles like
precious gems, makes it one of the marvels of nature. Crown, neck,
mantle, and rump are of an exquisite brilliant blue; a cinnamon brown
stripe passes over the eye, growing lighter as it extends over the side
of the neck. Eyes brown, throat white, underparts a brilliant rust-red,
legs red, rather short, the toes slightly joined at the root. It nests
on the banks of rivers and streams, boring in the bank, on a level just
above the surface of the water a tunnel a yard long, which it enlarges
at the end into a cauldron-shaped cavity. It does not build a nest here,
but lays its round white eggs on rejected fish-bones. The eggs number
six or seven.
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE DIPPER.]
THE DIPPER.
(_Cinclus aquaticus._)
The Dipper’s habits are most interesting. The bird frequents the most
picturesque streams, perching on the dry boulders, with the water
gurgling and splashing about him. From this he dives and walks under the
water, turns over the small pebbles and returns to his stone. This led
to his being suspected of being an enemy to the fisherman. It has,
however, be proved by the inspection of the contents of the stomachs of
several Dippers that only insect remains and small shell-fish were
eaten. The fact that he will attach himself to brooks which contain no
fish at all, proves that he does not feed on these. The bird’s plumage
is simply watertight, and therefore admirably adapted to a bird which
can swim as well as dive.
The song of the Dipper is strong and cheery; and the lively ways of this
Water-ouzel, as it often called, lend a charm to our mountain streams.
With us in Hungary a thorough investigation of the life-habits of this
bird, which spread over a considerable period, and involved much
correspondence, has resulted in the complete vindication of this bird’s
character.
* * * * *
Mr. Herman’s verdict on the Dipper and the Kingfisher, are the more
valuable because he is the great authority, in his own country, in all
that relates to pisciculture. The Dipper remains with us all the year
round, especially in the Peak District in Derbyshire, and the
hill-streams of North Staffordshire. It is, however, found in the
British Islands, wherever there are rapid rivers or stony brooks and
streams. All the Highland burns and rivers have a few pairs. In Ireland,
too, it is resident in the mountainous districts, but it forsakes these
often, at the approach of winter, for the mouths of tidal rivers and the
salt flats of the seashore. In the valley of the Dove it remains about
the stream all through the winter. The birds are clever in contriving to
make so heavy a nest cling to the wall of rock or stone, where it is
placed. It cocks up its short tail very much as a Wren does, and dips
its head in a way, which has gained for it the quaint local name of
“Betty Dowker.” As it feeds much on the larvae of the May-fly and
bank-fly, and others which are destructive to the salmon spawning beds,
it must be of good service to the fisher. The young birds are able to
swim as soon as they leave the nest, and to chase the water insects,
using both legs and wings in pursuit. The wings serve as oars. The song
of the bird is begun in autumn, and it will often be heard all through
the winter, but always in early spring, and fully fledged young have
been found by the twenty-first of March.
This is a thick-set but charming bird a little over six inches in
length. Head and nape are umber-brown, tail and wing-feathers dark
brown; chin, throat, and upper breast white, passing off into
chestnut-brown, dark-grey and black on the belly; bill brownish-black,
legs and feet brown; upper parts mottled with dark grey and brown. The
beak is awl-shaped, and the sharp toes on the strong feet are long and
well divided. The nest is generally placed close to a running stream,
preferably near to, and even behind some little waterfall. It is a large
oval ball of leaves, grass, and moss, lined with dry grass and dead
leaves. The entrance is low down in the side. From four to six eggs are
laid, which are glossy white at first, but become dull as the bird sits.
Two broods are reared in a season.
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE THRUSH.]
THE THRUSH.
(_Turdus musicus._)
This bird is the same size as a Blackbird. The upper side is
olive-brown; throat and under parts whitish; breast rusty-yellow with
dark heart-shaped spots and flecks. A light eye-brow stripe runs over
the eye. The under side of the wing is rusty-yellow; beak and legs
brownish-yellow. Its nest is very remarkable. It builds by preference in
trees with dense foliage, at a medium height, and employs stalks, grass,
and small twigs well woven together, the crevices being filled with
moss. There is nothing remarkable in this, for there are many better
woven nests; but the cup of the nest is a work of art. It is wide, and
deep, having inside a strong layer finely cemented and smoothed, about
the thickness of the back of a table knife. This is composed of
pulverised atoms of decayed wood, which the Thrush mixes with its sticky
saliva, and kneads into a paste, with its beak. It lays five or six eggs
of a vitriol-green colour, with very fine spots.
The Thrush is a fine strong bird, and moves firmly and skilfully among
the branches. When on the ground it holds its head and beak well up;
always alert. When it sees its prey it springs on it at once with
lowered head, seizes it and tears it to pieces with its beak. On mossy
grounds it is very skilful in turning over tufts of moss, in order to
reach the insects which crawl about underneath. It also catches
grasshoppers, and in the late summer and autumn attacks the wild
berries.
It has many enemies. The Jay is the worst plunderer of its nest; but it
has recently been ascertained that the Squirrel also sucks the eggs.
Its song is beautiful, flooding the woods far and near, with its rich
fluty tones. It sings from the highest branches of trees, sitting
quietly meanwhile, as if itself steeped in the dreamy rapture of its own
performance.
* * * * *
The Song Thrush in Scotland is called the Mavis. This is strange as it
is the Redwing which is known in France under the name of _Mauvis_. The
song of the Blackbird is often confused with that of the Thrush; yet
that of the latter is a very distinctive one, because in the middle of a
strain of song there is the repetition of its three chief notes. You
will seem to hear it saying “Pretty dear, pretty dear,” or “Wait a bit,
wait a bit.”
We must own that the Thrush is a very active thief, although it does
feed much on insects, worms, and snails. It is absolutely necessary to
protect one’s fruit against this depredator.
Shakespeare speaks of the “throstle with his note so true,” and Clare
wrote
“And thrushes too ’gan clear their throats,
And get by heart some two ’r three notes
Of their intended summer song.”
But Browning still more finely enters into the spirit of this bird’s
song:--
“That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never can recapture
The first, fine, careless rapture!”
THE BLACKBIRD.
(_Turdus merula._)
This is a lively, cheery bird, an ornament to the thickets and clearings
of the woods. Just before the evening twilight, in company with others
of the Thrush family, it seeks the clearings and openings of the woods,
and delights the eye of the beholder, by its hopping here and there, its
darting and hunting--busily dragging worms out of the ground and
attacking all the mischievous Chafer family. Then it flies on to the
summit of a bush or an over-spreading bough, and its powerful, pure
flute-like song resounds through the wood, and makes the listener forget
all else. In autumn it eats the berries, sometimes fruit; but being very
timid it is easily driven off. It is a useful bird and a pleasure to eye
and ear.
This is the bird which is so often taken from the nest and reared. The
male bird fetches a good price in Hungary, for it learns to whistle
tunes--even from street-organs. Because it learns so easily, it
sometimes happens, that in the middle of a beautiful tune which it has
been taught, some most excruciating sound is heard, reminiscent of an
ungreased cart-wheel. In Germany the Blackbird has become a town-bird;
and people spread dried ant-eggs, chopped meat, and maggots, and make a
nest for it near their vine-covered windows. It stays there also during
the winter.
And what about the East? Why are children ever brought up in such a way
that they seize a stone directly they see a Blackbird?
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE BLACKBIRD.]
In February our English Blackbird will be thinking of mating. We are all
familiar with the usual nesting-site which is chosen--evergreen, thick
bushes, and hedgerows--but it has been known to build successfully and
to lay its eggs, in the heart of what is known as the thousand-headed
cabbage. The young of the early broods sometimes help the parents to
feed the young of the second brood of the season.
The Blackbird is commoner in the South than the Thrush, and is as a rule
more popular with the country people than the latter bird. Gardeners
look upon it as a terrible thief, but the good it does in feeding on
moths, beetles, other insects and larvæ, caterpillars, cockchafer grubs,
quite counterbalances the harm it does in taking fruit. A well-known
Zoologist says, “Short-sighted agriculturists kill the Blackbirds that,
at the rate of sixty an hour, destroy their worst foes, or working as
they do from early dawn to dusk six hundred in the course of a single
day, which, given ten Blackbirds, raises the total of vermin put out of
the way to six thousand per diem, against which a few dozens of
strawberries should count as the dust in the balance. But the
horticulturist sees the Blackbirds pick a raspberry now and again, and
he does not see the same bird kill a dozen or two of grubs or snails for
each morsel of fruit he may help himself to.” Another, a Fruit-grower,
says that during one hard winter when some of his fruit trees were
killed, and in some places the Thrush tribe were all but annihilated,
snails were a scourge in the following summer, and gooseberry bushes
were stripped by caterpillars innumerable. This is the testimony of the
late Joseph Witherspoon, a well-known fruit grower. He goes on to say,
“When gardens are surrounded by woods, it is only by a liberal use of
nets that any reasonable portion of fruit can be saved, as swarms of
Blackbirds and Thrushes will eat every fruit as it ripens. I provide
nesting-places, and thus have my birds so near my caterpillars, and so
far from house morsels that they eat the pest greedily; but fruit crops
being thereby secured, we must next draw on our ingenuity to prevent the
birds taking more than their fair tithe.”
In winter Blackbirds feed principally on snails, the shells of which
they break by raising them in the bill and dashing them against a hard
stone, just as Thrushes do. But for these birds, we should be quite
unable to save our gardens from the wholesale ravages of those enemies
to plant life.
The Blackbird, of course, belongs to the Thrush family, and its
relatives the Fieldfare, the Redwing, and the Mistle Thrush all have the
same habits of feeding. They all devour snails, slugs, worms, and
insects, and in the autumn take wild berries. The Fieldfares are only
with us in winter, and they seek their food over the fields and pasture
lands in mild weather, and eat the berries when frost comes, and snow
covers the ground. The Redwing is a delicate bird, and often comes to
grief in our country during a hard winter. The Mistle Thrush is with us
all the year, and its food consists, not of mistletoe as used to be
supposed, but of the berries of the yew, holly, mountain ash, hawthorn,
etc., worms, snails, and insects, and, it must be confessed, of a little
fruit occasionally.
The male bird is pure black, the eyes bordered with a fine golden
yellow. The beak is also of this colour. Legs blackish. The female is
dark-brown, chin whitish, breast a shabby brown with dark spots, beak
and legs brown. The male does not attain his brilliant blackness until
his third year. It builds its nest in bushes and thick foliage, where it
is well hidden. It is composed chiefly of moss, fine twigs, and tufts of
hair; and is strong and durable. The clutch consists of four to six eggs
of pale green, speckled with pale rust-red and violet.
[Illustration: An evening lyric.]
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE GOLDEN ORIOLE.]
THE ORIOLE.
(_Oriolus galbula._)
This bird is noisy in the spring and the early summer, its voice, which
is full and deep like the note of the reed-pipe, fills the edge of the
woods and the great gardens. “Next to the call of the Cuckoo, the
flute-like note of the Oriole most enlivens the early summer woods and
so contributes to the perfect harmony of a sunny spring-tide day;
‘_deelee-adid-leen_,’ or ‘_ditleo, deega, ditleeo_’ it sounds, always
clear and joyous out of the bushy treetops.” In Hungary, it endeavours
to lure away boys from too close proximity to the nest, by the cry,
“_kell-cy dió, fiu?_” which means “Boys do you want some nuts?”
Except at the fruit season, the Oriole is a very useful bird, and there
is no kind of caterpillar that it will not pick up. In seasons when
there are a great many cockchafers, it carries on a perfect war of
extermination on these unhappy creatures. It is unfortunately true,
however, that when the summer fruit is ripe--it departs for warmer
regions before autumn--it troubles itself little about chafers, but
turns its attention to cherries, apricots, morellas, and early pears.
Still the good it does in destroying insects, is much greater than the
harm it does otherwise, and therefore we will be indulgent to it.
Besides, its lovely colour is a delight to the eye.
* * * * *
This Oriole comes annually to Cornwall and the Scilly Isles, but can
only be called a visitor to our country, although nests have been found
occasionally in some counties, especially in Kent. It is not
unfrequently noticed in the Southern and Eastern counties of England.
Unfortunately collectors cannot resist adding this beautifully plumaged
bird to their lists. I have watched it myself in Southern Germany and
Hungary. It is not at all shy, and one of the most beautiful things in
bird-life I have ever seen was a number of Orioles flitting from tree to
tree in an orchard situated amongst vineyards on the hilly banks of the
Danube in Baranya. The black on the wing-coverts and tail-feathers is in
striking contrast with the golden-yellow of the greater part of the
plumage. The male has a very flute-like call, hence its French name of
Loriot. The female is a devoted mother. Where these birds have been
protected on private estates in our country they have reared broods
successfully; it would surely add to the beauty of our rural landscapes,
if they were encouraged and protected.
The Oriole is rather larger than the Thrush. The male is a beautiful
golden-yellow; wings and tail black except the end of the tail which is
yellow. A black stripe passes across the eyes from the base of the beak;
the beak is a reddish flesh colour, the eye blood-red. In the female and
the young, all the parts which in the male are golden-yellow are
greenish, the underparts a greyish-white with darker stripes. The nest
is quite a work of art. It is always placed in the base of a fork of a
branch, and is fastened to the bough with fine root fibre and bast; it
is lined with any fine soft material, even cob-webs are sometimes found
in it. The clutch usually consists of five eggs, which are white with a
few very prominent dark specks. It also nests in gardens.
THE ROBIN.
(_Eríthacus rubécula._)
The Robin is one of the cleverest courtiers. It alights on the ground,
alternately appears and vanishes for a few moments, then suddenly stands
still, makes a low bow, droops its wings, raises its tail, then looks up
at one with shining eyes, full of confidence, as if to say: “I trust
you.” It hunts beetles with great energy, and does not even recoil
before the slug, still less before a small earthworm, which the lordly
hedge-sparrow would not touch for all the world.
Sometimes it flies on to a high branch, keeping quite still, except that
now and then it makes a bow and raises its tail; then all at once it
flies to the ground, pounces on the awaited booty, returns to its bough
and devours its prey. Its song is beautiful, exquisite, rivalling, but
not excelling, that of the Lark. The bird sits quietly and sings, and is
in no hurry to cease. Its cry is a light piercing “_see_.”
It is a bird which may be said to become tame almost immediately when
caught. It likes to move at liberty about a room. Poor people with us
like to keep it, for it catches the flies in the room, the spiders in
the corners or even on the bed; or any other moving thing. This bonny
bird deserves every protection.
* * * * *
The ways of the “cheery little Ruddock,” as Shakespeare calls him, are
so well known that it is not necessary
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE ROBIN.]
to add much more to Mr. Herman’s graphic description. Perhaps it is not
known to all our readers, however, that a great number of Robins migrate
to our country every autumn from the Continent, whilst some of our
home-bred birds leave our shores. As a rule the red on the breast of the
former is brighter than with those bred here. There are, however, as we
know, individual birds which will attach themselves to a home where they
have been treated kindly, for a number of successive winters, entering
the open window and feeding with the children.
The Robin has three different styles of song, one the gay, joyous
outpouring which delights us on sunny days, then the autumnal dirge,
which proclaims the approach of cold stormy days, and is often uttered
just before it leaves us for warmer quarters; and again, the long
drawn-out cries, notes of distress, when some prowling cat or other
enemy approaches its nest.
Robins, as we all know, devour great quantities of worms and insects. It
is a most valuable species to the gardener and fruit grower, for, except
under the stress of thirst, it lives only on animal food.
The Robin needs little description. The whole of the upper side,
including the back of the head and crown, is olive brown, the
under-parts dingy white; throat, breast, and brow a beautiful rose-red
with us,--in some districts more chestnut-red,--whence the bird is
called the Redbreast. There are plainly discernable oblique stripes of a
lighter shade on the wings. Eyes dark brown and large; legs dark and
strong; beak finely pointed; plumage fine, soft, and loose. The nest is
always placed low down, in the thickest bushes, in hollow trees, holes,
and crevices. It is well and delicately built; the outer covering
consists of dry leaves, the inner of thickly woven moss, rootlets, hair,
and feathers. It is difficult to find. The eggs usually number five,
occasionally seven; they are of a yellowish olive-brown speckled with
rust colour, the speckling being closer in a ring round the thicker end.
Two or even three broods are produced in the year.
“The Robin and the Wren
Are God Almighty’s cock and hen.
Him that harries their nest,
Never shall his soul have rest.”
Grahame sang--
“Dearer the redbreast’s note,
That mourns the fading year in Scotia’s vales,
Than Philomel’s where spring is ever new;
More dear the redbreast’s sober suit,
So like the withered leaflet, than the glare
Of gaudy wings that make the Iris dim.”
THE WREN.
(_Troglodytes párvulus._)
The Wren is certainly the most lively of little birds. With its
confiding nature, especially in winter, it approaches close to men, and
with lightning speed dashes into the openings and gaps in the wood
stack. It is visible only for a moment at a time, and, with its little
upright tail, its nodding and see-sawing, its appearing and
disappearing, its popping in and out, it disposes even the most morose
persons to cheerfulness. It slips through the prickliest bunch of
blackthorn like the nimblest mouse, and has scarcely vanished on one
side, before it appears on the other, shoots about like an arrow and is
quickly lost in the neighbouring hedge. It does not fly far. If it finds
itself in difficulties in the open, it slips into a mouse-hole. It feeds
on the tiniest, and most hidden insects. It finds the smallest spiders,
caterpillars, chrysalises, and grubs, which it wants, with skill and
inexhaustible energy. It is found both in summer and winter with us.
This little bird has also its song, which is louder than might be
expected, suggesting somewhat that of the Canary. A listener to whom it
is not known, is astonished if he happens to discover the tiny vocalist.
It sings always in an open place. Its cry is “_Zrr’s Zezerr_.”
A Lancashire naturalist writes of “the irrepressible vitality of the
Wrens which prompts them to fling a song in the face of winter whenever
they get a chance.” A chiding, chattering song it is; flung out also in
advance of the intruding footsteps that disturb the
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE WREN.]
privacy of the hedge-row at the foot of which the bold, pert little
creatures are seeking their food. In old nests in the thatch and holes
in the walls, they find warmth and shelter during the winter, a little
batch of them together. They are supposed to build special nests,
“cocks’ nests,” they are called. A Staffordshire acquaintance tells how,
being curious as to the number sleeping in one of these which he had
previously noted in a grotto in his grounds, he and gardener surprised
them one night by the light of a lanthorn, and no fewer than six Wrens
fluttered out of the nest.
Another friend who was fishing near Brambridge, in Hampshire, tells me
that he knows one such nest under the thatch of an under-keeper’s
cottage, and he has seen five or six enter this in the early twilight of
a winter evening. On two different occasions, when a dogcart sent to the
keeper’s cottage at which he puts up, was waiting for him to drive to
his day’s fishing, a Wren settled on the back of the standing horse,
near the cottage door, and remained there for a few minutes, as though
enjoying the warmth coming through the creature’s coat.
In Ireland every Wren that can be seen is hunted down and killed on St.
Stephen’s Day; and a Surrey man tells me that up to twenty-five years
ago he has witnessed the same persecution in the home counties.
Tradition says that it is due in Ireland to the fact of a party of Wrens
hopping over a drum’s head, and thereby disturbing a sentinel, when a
party of Irish were on the point of surprising their enemies.
Shakespeare writes of “the Wren with little quill,” in Bottom’s song of
birds; and again, in “Cymbeline,” Imogen says, “if there be yet left in
Heaven as small a drop of pity as a Wren’s eye.” The comparisons drawn
by old-fashioned country folk are often very quaint. I remember an old
lady who, if she were asked to take more of some dish at table, often
said, “Just a bit the size of a bee’s knee,” to the great edification of
us youngsters. The song of the Wren is always the same: a few separate
notes, a trill, a rattle and a trill, while its call-note has been
likened to the clicking of a watch while it is being wound up. There is
no more winsome picture of bird-life than this tiny creature dotting
about, with little tail erect and fan-like, in quest of its insect food
among the dry bramble leaves, so vivacious in its movements that no
camera could ever do it justice.
The Wren is almost the smallest of European birds. There is not much to
be said about the colouring of its feathers, which are the brown of the
tree trunks, with beautiful thick oblique stripes of a darker shade. The
colour is lighter over the eyes, on throat and breast. The tail feathers
are especially fine, and thickly striped. The beak is slightly
depressed, fine and sharp as a needle; the brown legs relatively strong.
The nest is placed under the cover of felled boughs, between roots, in
secluded corners of abandoned huts, which it can slip into. The nest is
comparatively large, with a spacious entrance, and consists of a
foundation of leaves and fine twigs, within which is a layer of moss,
and again within that a mass of smooth, finely broken feathers. The
clutch is six, sometimes, but rarely, eight small white eggs, with fine
blood-red speckles.
[Illustration:
1. Wren’s Egg. 2. Great Bustard’s Egg.
Comparative sizes.]
[Illustration: DOUBTFUL.
THE HAWFINCH.]
THE HAWFINCH.
(_Coccothraustes vulgaris._)
This is not a true migrant, for it is only in severe winters that it
seeks a warmer climate. In autumn it comes from the hills, down into the
plain, to the neighbourhood of human habitations, where it leads a
restless life. It is timid, and easily startled; while flying it utters
its shrill cry “_seu, seu, seu_.” The striking bulk of its beak
indicates the strength it has to use in obtaining its food; and it is
so, for the kernels of the hardest cherry stones are its favourite
dainty.
It flies in small flocks, and when these light on a cherry tree, they
are quite quiet, not a sound is heard, except the cracking of the hard
shells by the strong bills, which are specially formed for the work. The
cherry stone lies in the lower mandible, the upper one being ribbed and
so perfectly adapted for cracking the stone. This bird breaks with ease
a fruit stone, which a full-grown man can only crush with the heavy
pressure of his boot heel. Towards spring, when there are no more fruit
stones to be found, it attacks and destroys the young leaf buds.
This bird is not very commonly found in Hungary.
* * * * *
The number of Hawfinches has been steadily increasing in England of late
years. This is probably due to Bird Protection, which is so much more
enforced than it used to be. The young are fed chiefly on caterpillars,
but unfortunately they soon take to eating peas, which brings them into
bad repute with gardeners, and numbers of young birds are shot and
buried in gardens where peas are grown. It is pleasant, on the other
hand, to watch them amongst the wild plums and sloes and crab-trees in
one of our old hedgerows, but is not an easy matter as they are so
suspicious. In districts where many peas are grown for the market, these
birds are a perfect plague. In Germany this bird is called Kernbeisser
(kernel biter) because of the ease with which it cracks cherry stones
with its powerful bill. With us it eats the seeds of the horn-beam and
other trees, beechmast, haws, etc.
Only one brood is raised in a season, but if the first nest is meddled
with, another one is made.
In “Within an Hour of London Town” the writer interviews a gardener on
the subject of Hawfinches. We give it here as it stands.
“What do I want with the gun? Hawfinches; they hawfinches in my peas!”
he grunts.
As he leaves the tool-house I quietly follow, and place myself with him
behind a low faggot-stack which stands in a line with the peas.
“Jest hear ’em! ain’t it cruel!” he whispers. “I hope the whole roost of
’em may git in a lump so that I ken blow ’em to rags an’ tatters. If you
didn’t know what it was you’d think some old cow was grindin’ up them
peas. Ain’t they scrunchin’ of ’em! All right now, I ken see you, you
grindin’ varmints! Now for it!” Bang!
Three birds fall--young ones in their first plumage, which has a strong
likeness to that of a greenfinch.
After picking the birds up, we examine the pea-rows. There is no doubt
as to the mischief the birds have done. The old fellow’s own expression,
“grinding up,” is the best to convey any idea of the destruction that
has taken place. Where the birds have been, nothing remains but the
stringy portion of the pods of his precious “Marrer fats.”
There is enormous power in the bill of the Hawfinch, when the size of
the bird is considered. The pea-pod is simply run through the bill, and
the contents are squeezed out in a state of green pulp and swallowed.
“Varmints I call ’em, an’ nothin’ else,” is the remark my old friend
makes, as he goes towards the tool-house and takes from a shelf a hen
Hawfinch and two young ones, the former probably the mother of some of
the birds that are about, if not, indeed, of the whole brood, her
plumage showing that she has been sitting.
“People wants me to git ’em full-feathered old birds for stuffin’, but
bless ye, ye might as well try to ketch weasels asleep. A cock Hawfinch
is about one o’ the most artful customers as I knows on. The only time
to get a clip at ’em is in winter, under the plum and damson trees. They
gits there after the stones, any amount o’ stones lays jest under the
ground, an’ they picks ’em out an’ cracks them easy. I gits plenty o’
young ones when peas are about--the old ones lets ’em come, but they
take precious good care they don’t come off the tops o’ the trees
themselves afore they knows there ain’t nobody about. Some says they’re
scarce birds. I knows they ain’t--leastways not when my peas are ready
to gather.”
The Hawfinch is seven inches in length and has a thick head, short tail,
and very strong bill. Crown and cheeks cinnamon brown, neck greyish,
mantle chestnut. There is a black patch on the throat, the base of the
bill, and the eye, and a white patch on the wing. The tail is white in
the middle and darker at the sides, the underparts are greyish with a
tinge of violet. The middle wing feathers are serrated in wavy curves,
and look as if clipt with scissors, the bill is exceptionally strong,
very thick at the base, and sharp at the point. It lays four to six eggs
of a pale green colour slightly speckled. The nest is well-built and is
placed in fruit trees, and in open spaces in the woods, at a height of
from six feet upwards.
The moral of the story of the gardener and the Hawfinch is that the
gardener must protect his peas.
THE CHAFFINCH.
(_Fringilla coelebs._)
The Chaffinch is a useful bird, and is also an ornament to the woods and
gardens, not only by its lovely plumage, its friendliness, and its
movements, but especially by its clear voice which rings like a silver
bell. Its call-note is “_fink-fink_,” and it has a short, cheery little
song. Through the whole laying and brooding season it is busy with the
destructive grubs and insects, especially the little caterpillars and
tiny beetles which destroy the buds on the trees. When the seeds are
ripe it lives entirely on them, but almost exclusively on those which it
is able to pick up from the ground. It is true that when a considerable
number of these birds visit a vegetable garden they do a great deal of
harm, but this is outweighed by the good they do.
In very severe winters, it comes either in flocks or small parties with
other starving companions--Yellow-Hammers, Siskins, Crested Larks, and
Sparrows--into the villages, and even towns, and picks over the heaps of
street refuse and gutter sweepings.
It is still common with us in Hungary.
* * * * *
This Chaffinch is one of our common British species in winter, although
in some seasons their numbers are unaccountably smaller than in others.
It was called cœlebs, or bachelor, because of a partial separation of
the sexes which takes place during the winter. Large flocks arrive from
the Continent at that season on our East coast, whilst others come from
the North of our islands to spread themselves inland. Unfortunately the
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE CHAFFINCH.]
Chaffinch is the favourite bird in the shops of the Seven Dials in
London, and before the Bird Protection Acts came into force, many a
country lane has been cleared of Chaffinches to the great disgust of
many of the residents in the neighbourhood.
In Germany this is called the Buchfink--Beechfinch--because of its
fondness for beech woods. In the Thurigen Forest they have come to our
table like Sparrows for crumbs. It frequents our suburban gardens.
The Chaffinch is a delightful bird in garden and wood. The full-grown
male has a broad white stripe and a smaller yellow stripe on the wings;
the two outer feathers of the tail are large, with white wedge-shaped
spots, which give the bird in flight a very variegated appearance. Crown
and neck are bluish-grey; brow black; cheeks and under parts
brownish-red; wings and tail black, except the white spots. The female
and young are more plainly coloured; otherwise, like the male. Its nest
is built among the high tree-tops, sometimes quite in the open, and is
made of tufts of hair, moss, root-fibres, wool, and hair, very skilfully
constructed. It lays five or six eggs with dark dots and fine markings,
but occasionally of a uniform colour.
[Illustration: Chaffinches at the stream.]
[Illustration: MAINLY USEFUL.
THE BULLFINCH.]
THE BULLFINCH.
(_Pyrrhula europœa._)
The Bullfinch lives in summer in the mountains, and descends in late
autumn to the plains, where it meets its far bigger relatives who come
to us for the winter from the Far North, and joins company with them in
wood and grove and garden, even in the immediate neighbourhood of
dwellings. When the sunshine glistens on frost and snow, and these
splendidly coloured birds settle on a dry bough, the scene presents a
lovely winter landscape the impression of which is heightened by its
melancholy subdued cry, “_deeu_,” or “_beut, beut_.” In captivity it
learns to sing tunes. It is easily caught, for it is incautious.
In winter it visits plants, choosing the young wild vines, buds, seeds
of all kinds, berries including those of the alder, and the wayfaring
tree; it does not attack weeds. In very severe winters, when starving,
it will also do mischief among the buds of the fruit-trees.
It is frequently seen in winter.
* * * * *
The Bullfinch has been causing much dissension in and near an East
Anglian district where I have lately been staying. A net had been placed
over the gooseberry bushes to protect the blossom, and much indignation
was caused early one morning by the sight of three lusty Bullfinches
within the meshes, and a quantity of promising blossom on the ground.
“There would be no gooseberries whatever, this season; it was positively
unbearable; sentiment was utterly misplaced.” The three birds were
caught by the hand within the net, two were put in a cage in the
stable, and one was exposed in a small cage on the top of the garden
wall to attract others to the like fate. The gardeners were inexorable.
Madame was irritated by the sight of the rifled twigs. “And all last
Sunday was spent, by the wife and me,” said the gardener, “shying stones
at the rascals among the trees in our own garden.” The next day a
market-gardener shot no less than six Bullfinches on his grounds.
As a rule, my friends on this estate, are extremely good to birds, and
they attract them by placing breeding boxes, and supplying food in
winter; but these sturdy rascals find no quarter. I pleaded hard for
them, but, I fear, without result. The gooseberry blossom was certainly
nearly all destroyed, but it was in a quest for the destructive larvæ of
the winter moths, which make their appearance in the early spring and
eat the not yet expanded buds. A fruit grower has stated that he allowed
the Bullfinches to eat as much as they pleased; the crop of fruit has
usually been as good as if the birds had not done any disbudding, and
when, by a rare chance, the trees had borne no fruit at all, he knew it
was because the trees required clearing, and the next year the crop
would be all the finer. In some cases the tree appears to be entirely
disbudded, and still fruit has appeared.
It is only for a short period that the Bullfinches visit the fruit
trees. During the rest of the year they eat the seeds of harmful
weeds--dock, thistle, groundsel, plantain; and one authority states that
a single Bullfinch has been known to devour 238 seeds of the common
spear-thistle in twenty minutes! A writer in the Journal of the Royal
Agricultural Society say that he has seen “a small party of these birds
eagerly devouring the seeds of the large sow-thistle.” A little fruit
more or less in a season, in one’s own domain, is a small matter in
comparison with the vast amount of noxious weeds destroyed on our
fields.
* * * * *
The Bullfinch is an ornament in a garden. Crown, wings, and tail are
shining black, and the same colour surrounds the bill; mantle a
beautiful ashen-grey, rump and under tail cover snow white, breast and
under-parts a fine red. In the female the under-part is ashen-grey. Bill
short but very thick, at the end curved and hooked. The clutch is
composed of five green eggs with purple and grey speckles. It nests in
the fir woods of the mountains, at a height of about six yards; the nest
is made of thin twigs and is lined with hair.
* * * * *
The Goldfinch (_Carduélis élegans_) is so well known in Great Britain
that it requires little description. Unhappily for the “Proud Tailor,”
as he is called in the Midlands, he has always been a favourite
cage-bird, and on the South Downs Goldfinches have been captured in
thousands at the times of migration, to be miserably caged in dozens for
the bird dealers.
They are birds which found their food on the waste lands where large
thistles used to grow, and with the improvement of these waste lands the
thistles have gone, and the Goldfinches with them. Increased Bird
Protection is, however, causing more Goldfinches to breed amongst us,
which is a good thing for agriculture, this bird’s food consisting, as
it does, of the seeds of the thistle, knap-weed, groundsel, dock, and
other plants. The Goldfinch is considered to be one of the most useful
of all our birds, feeding, as it does, on the seeds of noxious plants of
which there is a succession all the year round. It ought to be
encouraged in orchards, where it feeds its young on small caterpillars,
and destroys great numbers of other insects for them.
Its relative, the Greenfinch (_Ligurinus chlóris_), a common and
well-known species everywhere, is not quite so valuable a bird to the
agriculturist as the above species. It is well known that it steals much
swede and turnip seed, still it devours quantities of the seeds of such
weeds as dandelion, corn marigold, charlock, wild vetch, etc., and the
parents capture immense quantities of moths, flies, caterpillars, and
other pests for their young.
[Illustration: A Feast of Thistle Seed.]
THE YELLOW HAMMER.
(_Emberiza citrinella._)
This is a pretty, cheerful, friendly bird, that lives in gardens,
thickets, or the outer part of the woods. Its chief distinguishing
characteristic is that it loves to associate with other kinds of birds,
especially the Fieldfares, with which it is most intimate. During the
brooding time and before the seeds are ripe it lives chiefly on grubs
and insects, being particularly fond of the smooth caterpillars, which
the other birds do not much relish. It also likes seeds, and rather the
floury than the oily ones. In winter it flies about the fields with
other birds, and destroys the seed of the runners, and the weeds that
shoot up through the snow--and is thus doubly of use to the farmer.
In a severe winter it comes with other feathered visitors into the
inhabited districts. At the weekly market it appears with Finches,
Crested Larks, and Sparrows, and picks up the oats and other grain which
are lying about, showing little timidity in doing so. It has a dipping
flight. It enlivens the country-side in spring and summer with its song.
It is very numerous with us in Hungary.
* * * * *
This bird is resident and common in most parts of Great Britain. From
morning till evening it sings the same song all through the spring and
summer; it has been transcribed as “Little bit of bread and no
che-eese.” The form and hardness of its bill, proclaims the bird to be a
grain eater, and of course it will pick up a great deal of corn, where
it is to be found, yet both
[Illustration: USEFUL.
YELLOW HAMMER OR BUNTING.]
old and young birds live upon insects largely, as well as the seeds of
baneful weeds, and it has been estimated with us that the good it does
far outweighs any harm which the farmer suffers through it.
The Yellow Bunting, well known under its universal name of Yellow
Hammer, says “A Son of the Marshes,” “is a very handsome bird and a very
common one. The plumage is splashed with rich yellows, warm red-browns
and darker streaks; this is his nesting suit. In winter the colouring is
not quite so gay. Where farms or farm-buildings show, you will be sure
to find Yellow Hammers round about them. Stand just inside the stable,
after the horses have left it in the morning for their work in the
fields, and look at the birds gathered round the open door, all busily
picking up the grains of oats that have fallen from the nose-bags. A
fine mid-April morning suits the bird to perfection, for he droops his
wings, spreads his tail out, and glides here and there pecking up as he
goes, in the most dainty manner. Then, for a time, he visits the trees.
The lowering of the wings, until they almost touch the ground, and the
spreading out of the tail, is a peculiar trait seen more or less in the
whole of the Bunting family.
Trees and fields are necessary to the well-being of the Yellow-Hammer,
which may be considered one of the farmer’s friends; for at certain
seasons he, as well as others of his family, live in the fields, only
leaving them to rest, or roost in the trees that surround them. Innocent
as the creature is in all its ways and means of living, superstition has
linked its name with evil. I have been assured, in the most solemn
manner, that the badger, the toad, and the Yellow Hammer are all in
league with the Prince of Darkness.”
The Cirl Bunting, often called the French Yellow Hammer, which is
distinguished from the commoner bird by the dark throat gorget, is more
numerous at times than it is supposed to be. In fact it is becoming
fairly common as a resident species.
The Yellow Hammer is the size of a Sparrow but longer and more elegant.
Throat, underparts, and crown of the full-grown male, golden-yellow;
mantle rust-red merging into green. The bill is peculiar, the lower half
is compressed, and the upper half is so formed that it is adapted for
shelling seeds. Its well built nest is placed low down among the bushes.
It lays five eggs which have dark markings on a light ground.
[Illustration]
THE TURTLE DOVE.
(_Turtur communis._)
The Turtle Dove has a pretty, dainty walk, an uncommonly rapid flight,
and is altogether a beautiful pleasant cleanly bird. The pairs are
devoted to each other. Their cooing, “_turr, turr_,” is pleasing,
gentle, and rich. It is a harmonious sound which makes a soothing
impression on the mind. It is no wonder that, from its whole nature, the
Turtle Dove has been chosen as the symbol of faithful love. Popular
sentiment is shown in the widespread belief, that if his mate is taken
from him, the male bird dies of grief--or that in sorrow for his loss he
never again sits on a green bough. The Turtle Dove loves the border of a
wood, or the trees, and rows of poplars that skirt a corn-field. It
likes to be near clear water to which the birds come in flocks to drink.
Its food consists almost entirely of seeds, chiefly those of weeds. That
is why this bird is so useful to the farmer. It does, indeed, sometimes
take toll of the grains, in the corn-field, when they have not been
properly covered by the harrow. Then, indeed, the Doves so fill their
crops, that bare places do not fail to appear on the ground. But this
bad behaviour lasts only for a short time; besides it is not very bad,
for they eat chiefly the superfluous grains. It is quite different with
regard to the seeds of weeds, which they destroy the whole summer
through in great quantities. A student of bird-lore once opened the crop
of a Dove in midsummer, and found in it 1942 seeds, of which all but one
were the seeds of the poisonous willow-leaved wolfs-milk--the one
exception being also the seed of a noxious
[Illustration: USEFUL.
THE TURTLE DOVE.]
weed. There can be no doubt that this bird does more good than harm--and
we will, therefore, encourage and protect it.
It is still common in Hungary.
* * * * *
It is common in some parts of England, but is very local in its
visitations and is only a summer visitor. A “Son of the Marshes,” says,
“It is common enough in some parts of Surrey. I have seen from ten to
thirty of them rise from the standing oats, or from the long grass in
the hayfield, at one flight. One of my friends shot a couple as they
were rising from the oats, and opened their crops. Not a single grain of
oat did he find in them. They were full of a little vetch that grew
abundantly at the roots of the oats, or, to express it in true rustic
agricultural phrase, ‘at the stam o’ the whuts.’ I was with the man at
the time; after that examination of the birds’ crops he declared he
would never shoot another pigeon.”
Another member of this family, the beautiful Ring Dove or Wood Pigeon
(_Colúmba palumbus_), called Queest in Ireland, and Cushat in the North,
because of its soft notes, is a bird that we could ill-spare from our
woods and coppices. It is, however, an undeniable fact that the members
of this voracious species have increased of late years in a manner which
is alarming to the hard-working farmer. Many writers have taken up the
cudgels in defence of these birds on account mainly of the amount of
noxious weeds, wild mustard seed, and leaves they devour, but, as that
great naturalist, the late Lord Lilford, wrote, in sending me a little
box of the contents of the crops of three birds extracted by himself:
“In a highly-farmed country these weeds hardly exist; and,” he added,
“in my opinion his good deeds are in no way comparable to the damage
done. I have frequently, when shooting Wood Pigeons in the winter
months, seen their crops burst on coming down dead from a height, from
distension with hearts, acorns, barley, and turnip-tops.” The contents
of the three birds’ crops sent to me were 129 peas, 85 beans, and some
broken vegetable matter.
The amount of good or of harm done by this species varies, as in the
case of other birds, according to the weather and the scarcity or plenty
of their natural food about the woods and the lands skirting these.
Considering the numbers that breed in our midst the farmers might well
thin these, and send a better supply of birds to the market.
* * * * *
The Turtle Dove is smaller than the Pigeon, slenderer, and it has a more
stately form. Crown and brow are a beautiful grey, cheeks and ear parts
flushed with rust colour. On each side of the neck it has an ornament of
black and white dots arranged in rows. The mantle is ashen-grey with
dark specks which have a reddish border. The rump is ashen-grey with a
shade of rust colour. Throat and breast reddish, melting into violet;
the under-parts are white. The wings are black, shaded with slate
colour; tail slate colour; four, at least, of the tail feathers have
white tips. Beak black, the irides fiery red; legs blood-red. The young
birds are of soberer colour. The nest is placed in thickets and is well
hidden. It is composed of little branches and twigs, very lightly put
together--indeed so loose and open is it, that the eggs and the sitting
hen can be seen through it. It lays two white eggs.