European continent from the countries south of the Mediterranean, in the
month of April, and returns in September. In the interval it may be
found not uncommonly in the wooded parts of Central and Southern Europe;
but it is rare in the north, being seldom seen in Sweden, and unknown in
Norway.
In England, where it may be regarded as an irregular summer migrant, it
unfortunately meets with little or no protection, for its bright colours
at once attract attention, and many get shot before they have been a
week on our shores. The male bird is bright yellow, with black wings and
a black and yellow tail. The female is dull green, with pitch-brown
wings, the upper tail coverts greenish yellow, and the under parts
greyish white, longitudinally streaked with brown on the shafts of the
feathers; the flanks yellow, and streaked in the same way.
My impressions on meeting with Golden Orioles for the first time in
France, now many years ago, will not be easily forgotten. I wanted to
see them alive, hear their notes, shoot two or three to examine them
closely, and ascertain the nature of their food; and accordingly I
accepted the invitation of a friend and took up my quarters at an old
country house, about halfway between Paris and Orleans. On looking over
my note-book for that particular year, I find the following entry,
relating to the Golden Oriole:—
“Long before six in the morning I was awakened by a perfect chorus of
birds—Blackcap, Nightingale, Thrush, Wood Pigeon, Chaffinch, Starling,
and Magpie were all recognized; but what pleased me above all, was a
beautiful mellow whistle, which I took to be that of the Golden Oriole,
and in less than an hour afterwards I found that I was right in my
surmise, for on walking through the woods which flank one side of the
house, I had the pleasure of seeing for the first time alive several of
these beautiful birds. They were very shy, and kept to the tops of the
oak trees; but by proceeding cautiously I managed to get near enough to
see and hear them well. Their note is really splendid, so mellow, loud,
and clear—something of the Blackbird’s tone about it, but yet very
different; while in their mode of flight and perching they remind one of
a Thrush. After a long search, I at length found a nest, placed at the
extremity of a thin bough, and at the top of an oak tree, about sixty
feet up. There were no branches for more than thirty feet, and it would
have been almost impossible to reach it without assistance. I therefore
marked the spot, and determined to get a long ladder a little later and
try and take it. The keeper informed me that it was early yet for
Orioles’ eggs, and so I left the nest for the last day of my stay here.
In the afternoon I went with the keeper to the Parc de Marolles. We
could hear the Orioles, or _Loriots_, as the French call them from their
notes, singing loudly in the recesses of the woods; but the foliage was
so thick, and they kept so much to the tops of the trees, that it was
almost impossible to catch sight of them. Their greenish-yellow
feathers, too, harmonized so well with the leaves, that it rendered them
still more difficult to see.
“Following the direction of the notes, I continued to make my way
through the underwood as noiselessly as possible, peering through the
branches, and striving in vain to catch sight of a bird. For a long time
the sound seemed to be as far away as ever, or, as I advanced it
receded. The sun was broiling hot, and the exertion of forcing my way
through the underwood, and straining my neck forward in my endeavours to
get a sight of the bird, put me in a profuse perspiration. The result of
about three hours’ work was, that I finally succeeded in getting three
shots at long intervals, and secured a pair of Orioles, a young male and
an old female. Subsequently, however, I got others. I found the stomachs
of these birds crammed with caterpillars of various species, and can
well understand the good they do in young plantations, by ridding the
trees of these pests.
“The colours of the soft parts in these birds, as noted by me at the
time, were as follows:—Iris, reddish hazel; bill, brownish flesh colour;
legs and toes, pale lead colour.
“On June 3rd, after breakfast, I went to the wood near the house to take
a Golden Oriole’s nest, and a difficult matter it was. The nest was
placed in a slender fork at the extremity of a thin bough of an oak
tree, and almost at the top.
“The oaks here are not, as in England, sturdy and short, with
wide-spreading heads, but tall and slender, running up for a great
height without any branches, and very tiring to climb. I was obliged to
saw off the branch before I could look into the nest, and after a great
deal of trouble, when I at length got it down safely, I found, to my
disappointment, that it contained three young birds instead of eggs.
Could I have ascertained this without cutting off the branch, I should
certainly have left them where they were; as it was, there was no help
for it but to take them. They were apparently about three days old, and
almost naked, the skin of an orange or yellowish flesh-colour very
sparsely flecked with yellow down. I fed them on maggots, and covered
them with cotton wool to keep them warm, and in this way I kept them
alive until I reached Paris, where they died, and were entrusted to a
skilful taxidermist for preservation.”
Although the discovery of a Golden Oriole’s nest in England is not
unprecedented, it is of sufficiently rare occurrence to attract the
attention of naturalists, more especially when the finder (as in the
case to which I am about to allude) has the humanity and good sense to
permit the young to be reared, instead of shooting the parent birds the
moment they are discovered, and thus effectually putting a stop to all
attempts at nidification.
It is a pleasure to be able to record the fact, that during the summer
of 1874, a pair of Golden Orioles took up their quarters in Dumpton
Park, Isle of Thanet, where—the proprietor, Mr. Bankes Tomlin, having
given strict injunctions that they should not be disturbed—they built a
nest, and successfully reared their young, ultimately leading them away
in safety.
They must have commenced building somewhat later than usual, for it was
not until the 6th of July that I first heard of the nest, and the young
were then just hatched. Mr. Bankes Tomlin having kindly invited me to
come and see it, I lost no time in availing myself of his invitation,
and a few days later, namely, on July 12th, I found myself at Dumpton
Park, standing under the very tree in which the nest was placed. The
reader may smile at the idea of journeying from London to Ramsgate
merely to look at a nest; but if he be an ornithologist, he will know
that Golden Orioles’ nests are not to be seen in this country every day,
and that when found they are worth “making a note of.” Often as I had
seen the bird and its nest on the Continent, it had never been my good
fortune until then to meet with it in England. Indeed, the instances in
which nests of the Oriole have been found here and recorded are so few
that they may be easily enumerated. According to the concise account
given by Professor Newton in his new edition of “Yarrell’s British
Birds,” one was discovered in June, 1836, in an ash plantation near Ord,
from which the young were taken; but, though every care was shown them,
they did not long survive their captivity. “Mr. J. B. Ellman says
(‘Zoologist,’ p. 2496) that at the end of May, 1849, a nest was, with
the owners, obtained near Elmstone. It was suspended from the extremity
of the top branch of an oak, was composed entirely of wool bound
together with dried grass, and contained three eggs. Mr. Hulke, in 1851,
also recorded (“Zoologist,’ p. 3034) a third, of which he was told that
it was found about ten years previously in Word Wood, near Sandwich, by
a countryman, who took the young, and gave them to his ferrets; and Mr.
More, on the authority of Mr. Charles Gordon, mentions one at Elmstead,
adding that the bird appeared again in the same locality in 1861. Mr.
Howard Saunders and Lord Lilford informed the editor that in the summer
of 1871 they each observed, in Surrey and Northamptonshire respectively,
a bird of this species, which probably had a nest. Messrs. Sheppard and
Whitear speak of a nest said to have been found in a garden near Ormsby,
in Norfolk; but the eggs formerly in Mr. Scales’s collection, which it
has been thought were taken in that county, were really brought from
Holland, and the editor is not aware of any collector who can boast the
possession of eggs of this species laid in Britain.”
The nest which I am now enabled to record was placed in a fork of a very
thin bough of an elm tree, at a considerable height from the ground, and
almost at the extremity of the branch, so that it was impossible to
reach it except by cutting off the branch near the trunk. Happily, in
this case there was no need to reach it, and the finder was enabled to
ascertain when the young were hatched by sending a man up the tree high
enough to look into the nest without disturbing it. A few days before
his first ascent there had been a strong wind blowing for some time, and
the slender branch was swayed to and fro to such an extent, that,
notwithstanding the depth of the saucer-like nest, one of the eggs was
jerked out upon the grass below and broken, though not irreparably so.
When I saw it, it was in two pieces, but unmistakably the egg of an
Oriole—in size equal to that of a Blackbird, but shining white, with
black or rather dark claret-coloured spots at the larger end. It has
been carefully preserved by Mr. Tomlin.
As long as his man remained in the tree the hen bird continued to fly
round, uttering at intervals a loud flute-like note, and occasionally
making a curious noise, such as a cat makes when angry.
It is perhaps scarcely necessary to remark that, as regards situation,
form, and the materials of which it was composed, the nest did not
differ from those which one is accustomed to see on the Continent.
Invariably placed in, and suspended under, the fork of a horizontal
bough, the sides of the nest are firmly bound to each branch of the fork
with blades of dry grasses and fibrous roots. There is generally a good
deal of sheep’s wool in the nest itself, which, taken in connection with
its peculiar shape, gives it a very singular and unique appearance.
On the 12th of July, as we approached the nest in question, the hen bird
was sitting, but left as we advanced, and perched in a neighbouring elm,
whence at intervals she uttered the peculiar noise to which I have
referred. Not wishing to keep her too long from her young, we left the
spot in about ten minutes, after carefully inspecting the nest with a
binocular. Returning again in half-an-hour, and a third time two or
three hours later, we saw the hen on each occasion quit the nest and
take up her position, as before, at a little distance. Once only did I
catch a glimpse of her more brightly-coloured mate as he darted between
two trees. He was very shy, and silent too, being seldom heard, except
very early in the morning, or at twilight. This, however, is the case
with most song-birds after the young are hatched, for they are then so
busy providing food for the little mouths that they have scarcely time
to sit and sing. Mr. Tomlin, who had other and better opportunities for
observing him, gave me to understand that he was not in the fully adult
plumage,[113] so that it seems the males of this species breed before
they have assumed their beautiful black and yellow colours.
On the 22nd of July the man again ascended the tree and peeped into the
nest. The young had flown, but were subsequently discovered sitting
about in the park with the old birds. As soon as the nest was no longer
wanted, Mr. Tomlin had the branch which supported it cut off, and,
writing to me on the subject the following day, he observed, that “upon
examining the nest we found the corners tightly bound with long pieces
of matting. One would almost imagine that a basketmaker had been at
work.”
Both the old and young birds continued to haunt the park until the 1st
of August, after which date they were no longer seen. The young were,
however, well feathered by that time, and able to take care of
themselves. Let us hope that they contrived to escape the eyes of
prowling gunners beyond the park, and that they will return again in
succeeding years to gladden the eyes and ears of their kind protector.
It is much to be wished that other proprietors would follow the good
example thus set by Mr. Bankes Tomlin. Could they be induced to do so,
they would become acquainted with many beautiful birds which visit us
from the Continent every spring, and which would in most cases rear
their young here if allowed to remain unmolested. Apart from the
gratification to be derived from seeing these brightly-coloured birds
within view of the windows, and hearing their mellow flute-like notes,
they would be found to be most useful allies to the gardener in ridding
the trees of caterpillars, which they devour greedily, and keeping many
other noxious insects in check.
[Illustration: RED-BACKED SHRIKE]
THE RED-BACKED SHRIKE.
(_Lanius collurio._)
Quite unlike any other of our summer migrants in appearance, the
Red-backed Shrike, or Butcher-bird, as it is more frequently called,
differs from them all in habits, and from the majority in having no song
to recommend it to notice. It is a curious bird in its way, shy and
retired in its disposition, and prefers tall tangled hedgerows or the
thick foliage of the lower branches of the oak, where it can sit
unobservedly and dart out upon its unsuspecting prey. It is a very Hawk
by nature, capturing and killing mice, small birds, moths and beetles of
every size and description. These when caught are firmly impaled upon
the long and strong points of the whitethorn for future consumption, and
the odds and ends which may be found thus hung up, as it were, in the
Butcher-bird’s larder are worth notice. On one thorn, perchance, a Blue
Titmouse with its head off, on another a small meadow mouse (_Arvicola
agrestis_), or perhaps a harvest mouse (_Mus messorius_), on a third a
great dor-beetle or a cockchafer, not yet dead, but buzzing round and
round upon the sharp thorn, and trying in vain to effect its escape,
while above, below, and on all sides may be seen the wingless bodies of
large moths, the fluttering forms of dragon-flies, or the remains of
beetles.
From this singular habit the bird has earned the name of Butcher-bird,
not only in England but in other countries. In France it is termed
_l’écorcheur_, the flayer; in Germany it is known as _der Würger_ (the
strangler, or garotter), and der _Fleischer_, or butcher, whence no
doubt is derived “Flusher,” the provincial name by which it is known in
some parts of England. The Linnæan name for the genus, _Lanius_, has the
same signification.
The Red-backed Shrike arrives here somewhat later than most of the
summer migrants, and is seldom observed before the first week in May. It
is generally found in pairs until after the young are hatched and ready
to fly, when the families keep together in little parties until the end
of August or beginning of September, when they leave the country.
The note of the Red-backed Shrike resembles the syllables “tst-tst,” or
“tsook-tsook,” loudly uttered, and reminds one a little of the notes of
the Whinchat and Stonechat. It has besides a harsh “kurr-r,” which it
utters when any one approaches the nest, and as it flits from branch to
branch, lowering the head, and slowly moving the tail up and down.
The male is decidedly a handsome bird. It has the head and neck grey,
with a broad black streak passing from the bill through the eye and ear
coverts, the back reddish chestnut, chin white, under parts pale salmon
colour, and the wings and tail black, the latter broadly marked with
white at the base.
The hen bird is much plainer in appearance, being of a dull and somewhat
mottled brown above, and buffy white beneath, with crescentic brown
markings on the breast and flanks.
The bill in both is short and thick, the upper mandible hooked at the
point and prominently notched or toothed, as in a hawk. The feet are
strong, with sharp and curved claws, and well adapted for seizing and
holding a struggling prey.
Both birds assist in the construction of the nest, which is a
substantial well-built structure of twigs, dry grass, and moss, lined
with fibrous roots and horsehair, and is usually placed at some height
from the ground in the middle of a whitethorn bush, or thick hedgerow.
The eggs, five and sometimes six in number, vary a good deal in colour,
being yellowish or greyish white with lilac or pale brown markings
disposed in a zone at the larger end, or pale salmon colour, with dull
red markings distributed in the same way.
The distribution of this bird in the British Islands is very partial,
for it is unknown in Ireland, of rare occurrence in Scotland, and in
England is found chiefly in the midland and southern counties. During
the summer months it is generally dispersed throughout Europe and the
temperate parts of Siberia, and as autumn approaches, it crosses the
Mediterranean into Africa, where it travels down the east coast through
Egypt, Nubia, and Abyssinia, to Natal, and on the west coast has been
met with in Great Namaqua Land, Damara Land, and the Okavango region,
where, according to Andersson, it breeds.[114]
Breeding in its winter quarters? Well, that is the question. Can the
birds which Andersson found nesting in South-west Africa in our winter,
have been the same birds which reared a brood in Europe the previous
summer? He says it is migratory in Damara Land. Is the same species,
then, found on both sides of the equator, migrating north and south on
both sides of it, but never crossing it?
The late Mr. Blyth thought that, with one exception, our summer
migratory birds do not breed in their winter quarters, but from what has
been recorded of the Swallow, the Sandmartin, the Wryneck, the
Turtle-Dove and the present species, there seems room to doubt the
correctness of this view.
Another species of Shrike, the Woodchat (_Lanius rutilus_), has been met
with in this country during the summer months, and has been reported
even to have nested here. It is of extremely rare occurrence, however,
and cannot with propriety be included, at least for the present, amongst
our annual summer migrants.
[Illustration: TURTLE-DOVE]
THE TURTLE-DOVE.
(_Turtur auritus._)
Amidst the general harmony of the grove in spring, there are few
prettier sounds than the gentle cooing of the Turtle-Dove. Perched upon
a bough at no great height from the ground, it pours forth its soft
murmurings with a delightful _crescendo_ and _diminuendo_, while close
at hand, upon a mere frame-work of a nest, the mate sits brooding upon
her two milk-white eggs.
Arriving in this country towards the end of April or beginning of May,
the Turtle-Dove is seen only in pairs until the young are able to fly.
Young and old then unite in flocks, and ten or a dozen may often be
found together in the pea-fields and on the stubble, where they pick up
the fallen grain. They are very partial also to vetches, rape, and wild
mustard, and do some service to farmers by ridding the cultivated lands
of the seeds of numerous weeds, such as the Corn Spurrey (_Spergula
arvensis_), which is common in corn-fields, and the Silver-weed
(_Potentilla anserina_), which they find upon the fallows.
When Partridge shooting in September I have frequently found
Turtle-Doves feeding amongst the root crops as well as on the bare
stubble, but notwithstanding the cover afforded by the turnip-leaves I
have generally found them so exceedingly wary, that it required a good
deal of manœuvring before I could get a sufficient number to make a pie.
In point of flavour, and of course in size, they are not to be compared
with the Wood Pigeon, being rather dry and somewhat insipid. Their
flight is rapid, and when suddenly flushed they go off at such a pace,
that it requires a quick shot to bring one down.
When taken young they are readily tamed, and will even breed in
confinement, a thing that rarely happens in the case of the Wood Pigeon.
Mr. Stevenson has known two or three instances in which this species
when caged has crossed with the Collared Turtle-Dove (_Turtur risoria_)
and reared a brood, and others have been recorded. The young “presented
many characteristics of both parents.”[115]
Although commoner in the eastern and southeastern counties of England,
the Turtle-Dove is generally dispersed in summer throughout the British
Islands. In Ireland it is regarded as an annual visitant to the
cultivated districts, and it has been found in most of the counties of
Scotland, where Mr. Robert Gray, however, considers that it can only be
ranked as a straggler.[116] All the specimens which have come under his
own observation were obtained in spring or autumn. In the Hebrides
specimens have been shot in Islay and Skye, but in the outer islands
none have been seen. Dr. Saxby says that the Turtle-Dove, “although
formerly very scarce in Shetland, may now be seen every year in certain
of the gardens—that at Halligarth especially—between spring and autumn.
It has always occurred singly. With nearly all the habit was to wander
away during the day-time, returning at night to roost in one particular
tree.”[117]
It was first known to occur in Shetland in the autumn of 1856, when Mr.
Edmondston of Buness shot one at Balta Sound. “It was but little seen
from that time until about six years ago (1868), by which time the trees
had grown above the walls, offering a more suitable refuge for
stragglers of this description.” On two occasions the Turtle-Dove has
been found in Orkney.[118]
On the continent of Europe this bird seems to be confined chiefly to the
central and southern parts, and does not reach Scandinavia or Russia.
But in France, Spain, and the countries bordering the Mediterranean, it
is very common in summer. Its winter haunts are in North Africa; and in
Egypt and Nubia it is especially abundant. Capt. Shelley says that it
frequently breeds there.[119] In the neighbourhood of Tangier vast
flocks arrive from the interior in April and May to cross the Straits of
Gibraltar,[120] and on reaching Andalusia afford considerable diversion
to the Spanish sportsmen, who kill large numbers by lying in wait for
them.
Mr. Thompson, when proceeding in H. M. S. “Beacon” from Malta to the
Morea in the month of April, saw this species on its spring migration.
One flew on board on the 24th of April, and another on the 25th; they
each rested for a short time on the rigging, and then pursued their
flight northwards. On the 26th four came from the south, two of them
singly, the others in company; one only alighted on the ship; it was
caught in the evening when asleep. Throughout the 27th many were
observed coming from the south, and generally singly, never more than
two together; very few alighted. On the 24th the vessel was at sunset
ninety miles east of Sicily, Syracuse being the nearest land; on the
27th, forty-five miles from Zante, and sixty west of the Morea. On the
29th of April one was seen near Navarino; and another on the 6th of May
in the island of Syra. At the end of the month numbers were observed
amongst the light foliage in the gardens of the old seraglio at
Constantinople.
Colonel Irby informs me that when on his way from Southampton to
Gibraltar on the 9th October, he saw a Turtle-Dove on its southward
migration in the middle of the Bay of Biscay.
[Illustration: LANDRAIL OR CORNCRAKE]
THE LANDRAIL OR CORNCRAKE.
(_Crex pratensis._)