into seed—clover, rape, or mustard—seldom fail in such places to pick up
a Landrail or two, and add in this way a pleasing variety to their bag.
The appearance of a Rail usually gives rise to some comment, and not
unfrequently to an expression of surprise that a bird of such skulking
habits and apparently of such weak flight should be able to leave the
country periodically, and return to it. That it does so, however, is
certain. It arrives here towards the end of April, and remains with us
till the end of September. During May and part of June its incessant
craking note is constantly reminding us of its presence; and if in July
and August its silence has caused us for a time to forget it, we renew
acquaintance once more in September, when in quest of nobler and more
important game. After that month we may look for it almost in vain, for,
although a Landrail now and then turns up during the winter months, its
appearance at such times is exceptional, the great majority of these
birds having left our shores before the first day of pheasant shooting
has come round. We can only account for the appearance of Landrails in
winter by supposing them to be individuals of a late brood, unprepared
to leave at the proper time, or wounded birds unable to take part in the
autumnal migration. In Ireland, however, their occurrence in winter and
early spring has been noticed so much more frequently than in England,
that a good naturalist there, Mr. Blake Knox, has suggested that the
bird hybernates. Writing in the “Zoologist” for 1867, at page 679 he
says: “I cannot divest myself of the belief that the Corncrake
hybernates, notwithstanding my having found it repeatedly dead in the
sea, both during autumn and spring, which many would say should prove
migration to the most sceptical. I do not for one moment doubt that it
leaves Ireland in numbers in the autumn, but where does it go? Does it
hybernate where it goes to? Is it to be met with anywhere in numbers,
flying or running, during our winter? Does it only crake in its spring
or summer haunts? In support of hybernation, we have the great amount of
fat, coming on in winter (Corncrakes often burst from fat when they fall
on being shot), which all hybernating animals attain; the number of
uninjured and healthy birds found in Ireland during winter, their
peculiar skulking habits at this season, the old hollow ditches they
frequent, their peculiar apathy and disinclination to fly, and their
early appearance without ‘craking’ (I have seen them in the middle of
March) along the sedges of rivers, which would be the first places they
would make for after their winter rest. I do not see why hybernation of
birds is so much scouted, for scores of animals and millions of insects
do so. Many fishes, too, become so torpid that you may fish for weeks
and not get one, yet some fine day dozens of the kind you look for will
reward your patience; still you have been told or read somewhere that
that species migrates from our shores in autumn “to seek more genial
skies,’ and that is why they are not caught in winter. The subject is
very far from being absurd, though many have considered it equally so
with ‘Corncrake turning to Water-rail.’ I knocked down a ditch bank some
years ago in January, and turned out three living Corncrakes, and ate
them too. In the year 1861, during November and December, I used
frequently to turn out of a particular hole one of these birds; I caught
it at last one night in the hole—or nest I might say, for it was thickly
bedded with leaves from a neighbouring dunghill, on which beech leaves
had been thrown; but I let it go after some time—in honesty, not through
kindness, but because I could not help it, for it could pass through any
hole, almost, as Paddy used to say, “as limber as a glove.’ I could also
state many instances of dogs chasing Corncrakes in winter to holes, and
in one case remember how nearly I was summoned for tearing down a man’s
ditch bank ‘in pursuit of rats,’ as he said, though he had two eyes and
saw the bird run from hole to hole. More learned men than he may have
often thought the same thing. Hybernating, in my view, would not mean a
dead, torpid state. I should consider it a sleepy, inactive state—a
lying-up in cold weather, and a temporary arousing during genial days;
and in this state I have met the Corncrake in winter.”
Before one can accept the hybernation theory, however, some stronger
evidence in its favour would be desirable—the discovery, for instance,
of a Landrail in a torpid state from which it might be observed to
recover. At present I do not remember to have heard of such an instance,
and, so far as one’s knowledge of the bird extends, it seems far more
probable that it seeks holes in banks and old walls merely for shelter
and warmth, in the neighbourhood of which it contrives to find
sufficient nourishment to keep it alive, until such time as the
increasing warmth of spring brings increase of insects and molluscous
food. An examination of the alimentary system of the Water-rail (_Rallus
aquaticus_) shows that this bird is no better fitted to withstand an
English winter than its cousin the Landrail, and yet it is frequently
found by sportsmen upon Snipe-ground at the height of the cold season.
Its good condition too at this time testifies to there being a
sufficient supply of food, which should be equally obtainable by the
Landrail.
The nature of this food is miscellaneous—slugs and snails of several
species, small freshwater mollusca, worms, leeches, beetles, the seeds
of various weeds, and tips of grass blades; in addition to which the
stomach is usually found to contain numerous small particles of gravel
or grit as aids to digestion.[121]
In its search for this kind of food, the Landrail must traverse daily an
immense tract of ground, for which, however, its strong muscular legs
and large feet are well adapted.
For six months at least in the year it appears to be very generally
distributed throughout the British Islands; and in Ireland, owing to the
more humid climate and the general prevalence of meadow land, it is
thought to be even commoner than in England. As regards Scotland, the
latest authority on the subject, Mr. Robert Gray, in his “Birds of the
West of Scotland,” says: “There is, perhaps, no Scottish bird more
generally distributed than the familiar Corncrake. It is found in every
district, cultivated and uncultivated, on the western mainland, from the
Mull of Galloway to Cape Wrath, and also over the whole extent of both
groups of islands, and all the rocky islets on the west coast, extending
to Haskeir Rocks, the Monach Islands, and St. Kilda. It will, in fact,
take up its abode and rear its young on such places as are almost
exclusively frequented by birds dependent on the sea for their daily
subsistence, all that can be looked upon as an attraction being but an
occasional patch of grass and a moist hollow, to remind it of the
distant meadow where, perchance, it had its haunts the previous summer.
I have observed it in the uninhabited islands of the Hebridean seas, and
have heard it near the summit of Ailsa Craig, rasping its eerie cry
after nightfall, as a rude lullaby to the Gulls hatching on the grassy
verge of a precipice.”
This is by no means the limit of its haunts northward and westward; for
besides being found in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, and the Faroe Isles,
it actually visits Greenland, and on several occasions has been met with
on the eastern coast of the United States, whither it must have
travelled, doubtless, _viâ_ Greenland. A single instance is on record of
its having been shot in the Bermudas,[122] although this group of
islands is distant from Cape Hatteras—the nearest point of the North
American coast—about 600 miles. After this, English sportsmen need
scarcely be surprised at its ability to cross the Channel.
Before the end of September it has commenced to migrate southwards on
its way to its winter quarters in Algeria, Egypt, Asia Minor, and
Palestine. It is said to be rare in Portugal, and seen on passage only
in Spain, touching also at the Azores. It goes, however, much further
south, as will be seen presently. Signor Bettoni includes it amongst the
birds which breed regularly in Lombardy;[123] and Messrs. Elwes and
Buckley note it (“Ibis,” 1870, p. 333) as found in Epirus and
Constantinople. In Corfu it is met with sparingly in April and
September, on its spring and autumn migrations. A single instance is on
record of its having been shot in Oudh;[124] but Mr. Blyth informed me
that he knew of no other authority for it as an Indian bird, although he
had seen specimens from Afghanistan. South of the Equator the Landrail
penetrates to Natal (_cf._ Gurney, “Ibis,” 1863, p. 331), and, according
to Mr. Layard (“Birds of South Africa,” p. 338), a solitary specimen has
been procured in Cape Colony.
Mr. Ayres, who has shot it in Natal, writing of its habits (“Ibis,”
1863, p. 331), says: “Having been once flushed, it is a difficult matter
to put them up a second time out of the long grass; for, besides running
with great swiftness, they have a curious method of evading the dogs by
leaping with closed wings and compressed feathers over the long grass
some three or four yards, and then, running a short distance, they leap
again. The scent being thus broken, they generally evade the most
keen-scented dogs; and so quickly are these strange leaps made, that it
is only by mere chance that the birds are seen.” Many an English
sportsman can testify to their power of evading good dogs, although they
may not quite know how it is done. Nor is this the only way in which the
Landrail displays its cunning. If surprised suddenly and caught, it will
often feign death, and remain perfectly stiff and motionless for several
minutes, to all appearance dead, but in reality only waiting for an
opportunity to steal off unobserved. I have known two or three instances
in which this _ruse_ has been practised with success upon unsuspecting
naturalists. Those who intend, therefore, to investigate the subject of
hybernation should be on their guard against what at first sight might
strike them as an instance of torpidity.
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
In the year 1872, through the medium of the Natural History columns of
“The Field,” a series of observations were made by naturalists in
different parts of England on the subject of “Our Summer Migrants.” A
form of calendar was distributed and filled up by each according to his
opportunities. In this way, by the end of the year six hundred and
forty-five separate observations were placed on record, and it devolved
upon me to prepare a report from the statistics so furnished. As a good
deal of interesting information was thus brought to light, it occurs to
me that I may appropriately bring the present volume to a close by
extracting so much of the report as relates strictly to the subject
matter in hand, and I accordingly do so.
In the calendars returned, some thirty species of summer migratory birds
are mentioned with more or less frequency. The majority of the
observations upon them have reference, as might be supposed, to the
dates of their arrival and departure, or, more correctly speaking, to
the dates when they were first heard or seen and last observed. When
referring some time previously to the utilization of such observations,
it was remarked that upon various points some addition to our knowledge
was desirable. Amongst other interesting facts, for example, might be
ascertained the precise line of direction in which various species
migrate, the causes which necessitate a divergence from this line, the
relative proportions in which different species visit us, the causes
which influence the abundance or scarcity of a species in particular
localities, the result of too great a preponderance of one species over
another, whether beneficial or otherwise to man as a cultivator of the
soil, the simultaneity or otherwise of departure from this country in
autumn, the causes operating to retard such departure, and so forth. All
these are matters of interest, especially to those who reside in the
country, and have leisure to inquire into the subject. Let us see how
far the observations supplied furnish a reply to these inquiries.
Of the thirty species of migrants mentioned, the Swallow, as might be
supposed, has attracted the largest share of attention, and in regard to
the number of observations made upon it stands at the head of the list
with forty-three. The Cuckoo comes next with thirty-eight; the
Chiff-chaff and Swift follow with thirty and thirty respectively; and so
on through the list, as given below, to the Reed Warbler, upon which
bird, strange to say, no more than three observations were made.
The following list will give some idea of the amount of attention which
each bird received.
Swallow 43
Cuckoo 38
Chiff-chaff 30
Swift 30
Willow Wren 29
Sandmartin 27
Whitethroat 26
Blackcap 25
Redstart 25
Flycatcher 24
Landrail 24
Nightingale 23
Martin 23
Tree Pipit 21
Sedge Warbler 17
Yellow Wagtail 16
Wryneck 16
Nightjar 16
Wheatear 15
Whinchat 15
Lesser Whitethroat 14
Grasshopper Warbler 12
Turtle Dove 10
Common Sandpiper 10
Wood Wren 9
Pied Flycatcher 9
Red-backed Shrike 9
Garden Warbler 8
Reed Warbler 3
Various 78
(645)
The first Swallow was seen, not as might be supposed in the south or
south-east of England, but four miles south of Glasgow, on the 2nd of
March, and Mr. Robert Gray states that this is the earliest record of
its arrival in Scotland. It is, indeed, an exceptionally early arrival,
for nearly a month expired before another was seen at Cromer, on the
31st of the same month, and six weeks elapsed between the first and
second appearance of the bird in Scotland. On the 1st April, with a S.E.
wind, this harbinger of spring arrived at Great Cotes, in Lincolnshire,
and on the 3rd of that month was noticed simultaneously at Nottingham
and Taunton. From the 6th of April the arrival of Swallows was pretty
general until the 13th, when they were first noticed in Ireland at
Ballina, co. Mayo, and on the following day at Glasnevin, Dublin, and at
Bray, in the county of Wicklow. The temperature then at Bray was 53°,
and the wind S.W. In these localities and dates there is nothing to
indicate anything like a precise line of immigration; on the contrary,
the birds first appeared where they were least expected. The prevalence
of gales, however, at that particular season doubtless operated to
retard their progress, and induced them to linger about sheltered
localities where food could be obtained. Mr. Wm. Jeffery, who is well
situated for observation on the Sussex coast, between the downs and the
sea, remarked that most of the spring migrants were several days later
than usual in their arrival, and the Swallow in particular not only came
later, but lingered longer than is its wont in his neighbourhood. A
single bird of this species was seen by him, flying round a steam
threshing-machine, on the 10th of December. “Whether it had been
disturbed,” he says, “from hybernation in the oatrick which was being
threshed, or only attracted by the warmth from the engine, I cannot say.
It flew very weakly, and was not long seen.”
On the 2nd of November, with the temperature at 45·5°, and the wind W.,
the species was still in the neighbourhood of Huddersfield, and on the
13th November, during cold weather, two were seen on the beach at
Exmouth. I may here remark that but little attention is paid to the time
of departure of a species compared to that which is given to the date of
its arrival.
The Martin was observed to come later and go earlier than the Swallow,
the earliest and latest dates being respectively April 10 at
Marlborough, and November 7 at Leiston, Suffolk. And in the case of this
bird the movement northwards might be traced by the dates, as Wiltshire,
April 10; Worcester, April 11; Yorkshire, April 11 and 13 (the weather
fine, with temperature 53°, and wind W.); Derbyshire, April 15. Further
to the westward, viz., at Llandderfel, in Merionethshire, its appearance
was not noticed until the 13th of May, when the temperature stood at
48°, and the wind N.W. Strange to say, it was not observed in 1872 by
any correspondent in Scotland and Ireland.
The Sandmartin is always amongst the first comers to arrive, and was
seen in three different counties during the last week of March, viz., in
Sussex, Wilts, and Worcester, the weather dull, with the wind blowing
from the westward. Its stay in this country is never so prolonged as
that of the Swallow, or even the Martin. Large flights are observed
preparing to migrate at the end of August and beginning of September,
and at the end of the latter month all have gone southward again for the
winter. In 1872, however, the species was seen exceptionally as late as
October 7.
The Swift is rarely seen before the first week of May or after the first
week of August, and of thirty independent observations upon this bird,
three only refer to its appearance during the last days of April,
four-and-twenty record its arrival between the 1st and 17th of May, and
three only relate to its disappearance—from Garvoch, Perthshire, on July
29, from Leicester on August 2, and from Exeter on August 12. It was
first seen upon the Devonshire coast at Plymouth and Torquay, and at the
former place was particularly numerous. It may be worth noting that a
male Swift shot at Cromer by Mr. J. H. Gurney, jun., on June 15, was
found to have the under parts denuded of feathers, which would indicate
that the males take their turn at incubation.
The Swallows and Swifts are thus brought together, out of the order of
the above list, to admit of a more easy comparison of the dates of
arrival and departure. We will now follow the order above indicated,
commenting only on such facts as appear noteworthy.
The thirty observations which relate to the Cuckoo tend to show that the
usual time of its arrival in this country is between the 20th and 27th
of April, and in no instance was it observed before the 6th of April (at
Torquay) which was considered an exceptionally early date to meet with
it. On the Lincolnshire shore it arrived with a southerly wind, in
Merionethshire with a west wind, and on the Irish coast with a
south-west wind, the weather warm and mild, the temperature 49° to
50·5°.
The most northerly point of observation was Dundee, where it was seen on
April 29, but it had been previously noticed at Garvoch, Perthshire, on
the 27th, and near Falkirk in Stirlingshire on the 25th of the same
month. In Fife, Forfar, and Tayside, Mr. P. Henderson, from personal
observation, has frequently found Cuckoos’ breasts bare of feathers, as
if from incubation, and has observed old birds feeding their own young—a
fact in the economy of this bird which has frequently been disputed.
As early as the 2nd of March the Chiff-chaff arrived at Torquay; and,
being seen at Chudleigh and Taunton on the 9th, at Northrepps, Norfolk,
on the 13th, Hovingham, near York, on the 14th, and Melbourne,
Derbyshire, on the 28th, it is easy to trace the gradual movement from
south to north of this restless but hardy little bird. A south or
south-west wind seems to be most favourable to its arrival, but in this
case, as in the case of other species, the data are not sufficient to
enable one to judge of this with certainty. It was last seen on Sept. 12
at Sparham in Norfolk.
The Willow Wren was noticed in the midland and northern counties long
before its arrival was recorded on the south coast. In Devonshire and
Sussex it was observed during the first week of April on various dates
from the 3rd to the 7th; in Surrey, Berks, Herts, Norfolk, Lincoln, and
Yorkshire somewhat later, that is to say, between the 7th and the 10th
of the month; and yet at Nottingham and Melbourne in Derbyshire it was
seen upon the exceptionally early date of March 29. In every case where
the wind was noted at the time, it was blowing from the W. or S.W.,
generally from the latter quarter.
Only one notice was supplied of its occurrence in Wales, namely, in the
parish of Llandderfel on April 28; but this date does not throw much
light upon the progress of the bird westward, for its arrival had
already been noted at Glasnevin, co. Dublin, on the 10th, and at
Ballina, co. Mayo, on the 13th of the same month. On the last-mentioned
date its appearance in Scotland was chronicled in the county of
Stirling, but no information was given during that year of its having
been observed further north.
In the case of the Common Whitethroat something like a line of migration
is indicated by the dates at which the bird was observed. Thus, arriving
on the Devonshire, Sussex, and Kentish shores on April 11, 13, and 14
respectively, it was in Berkshire, at East and West Woodhay, on the 15th
and 16th; in Leicestershire on the 18th, at Nottingham on the 21st, at
Great Cotes in Lincolnshire on the 22nd, at Hovingham, near York, on the
23rd, and by May 6 was as far north as Falkirk. The wind, in all cases
where it was noticed, was blowing from the west or south-west, the
temperature gradually rising from 48° to 62°.
Of the five-and-twenty observations made upon the Blackcap, the majority
relate to its appearance in the second week of April, and it would seem
that in the case of this species, the further north we go, the later the
date of its arrival. At Torquay it was observed on the 7th, Marlborough
on the 10th, East and West Woodhay, Berks, on the 15th, Barnsley on the
16th, Burton on the 23rd, and Melbourne, Derbyshire, on the 27th. No
record was furnished of its occurrence either in Scotland or in Ireland,
where it is at all times a rare bird. It was last seen at Nottingham on
Nov. 4. The Blackcap, however, does not invariably quit this country in
autumn; many instances of individuals having been seen here in
mid-winter have been reported by competent observers. It has
occasionally happened, however, that the Coal Titmouse (_Parus ater_),
which is a resident species, has been mistaken for this bird.
In the West of England, during the year referred to, the Redstart seems
to have made its appearance somewhat earlier than usual, having been
noted at Bishop’s Lydeard, near Taunton, on the 3rd of April. On the 6th
it was seen at Keswick, in Norfolk, and on the 8th and three following
days in four different localities in Yorkshire; the wind S.W., and the
temperature about 51°. After the middle of the month this bird became
more numerous, and was very generally observed. In Derbyshire, at
Melbourne, it was not seen until April 24, where it seems to have
arrived with a S.E. wind; and going still further north, we find it in
Stirlingshire and Sutherlandshire on the 27th and 28th. In Ireland it is
very rare, and no note was forwarded of its occurrence there in 1872.
The Spotted Flycatcher is always a late comer, seldom appearing before
the first or second week in May. Last year, however, it arrived somewhat
earlier than usual, and was noticed in Norfolk, at North Runcton, on
April 23, and at Barnsley on the 27th; the wind W., and the temperature
about 54° with a haze and light rain. Mr. A. D. Campbell states that
Flycatchers were unusually numerous at Garvoch, in Perthshire, about the
21st of May, and were first seen there on the 19th. By Aug. 27 they had
all disappeared. Only one note was received of its appearance in
Ireland—viz., on May 31, at Ballina, co. Mayo. Mr. Thomas Ruddy, of Palé
Gardens, Llandderfel, Merionethshire, referring to this species, says
that he saw the old birds in July catching bees, not only in the air,
but on the hive-board.
The Landrail, or Corncrake, as it is indifferently called,[125] arrived
pretty generally during the last week of April, and was noticed by a
great many observers on the 25th, 26th, 27th, and 28th of that month. On
the last-mentioned date it was observed in the county of Dublin, and on
May 1st at Ballina, co. Mayo. Apparently it did not reach Scotland until
a week later, for the first record of its appearance there is on May 8,
at Fife. On May 14 and 15 its presence in Stirlingshire and
Sutherlandshire was attested by two good observers. The scarcity of this
bird in some seasons is a theme with which readers of “The Field” of
late years have become tolerably familiar; but no light is thrown upon
the subject, nor is any cause suggested by those from whom calendars
were received.
That far-famed songster, the Nightingale, whose notes are so eagerly
listened for in early spring, was not heard last year before April 9;
but, from causes already referred to, the first utterance of song does
not always indicate the earliest arrival, and it is probable that the
birds had already been some days in their favourite haunts before their
welcome notes betrayed them.