Transcriber Note
Emphasis is denoted as _Italic text_.
AMONG THE
BIRDS IN NORTHERN SHIRES
[Illustration: (M618)
Bird-haunted Handa.]
AMONG THE BIRDS
IN
NORTHERN SHIRES
BY
CHARLES DIXON
Author of "Rural Bird-life" "The Game Birds and Wild Fowl
of the British Islands" "British Sea Birds" "Curiosities of
Bird-life" "The Migration of Birds" "The Migration of British
Birds" "Bird-life in a Southern County" &c
_WITH COLOURED FRONTISPIECE AND FORTY OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS
BY CHARLES WHYMPER_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND DUBLIN
1900
PREFACE.
The present volume must be regarded more as a popular introduction to
the bird-life of our northern shires than in any way as an exhaustive
faunal treatise, although at the same time we believe almost every
indigenous species has been included. For twenty years we lived
surrounded by these northern birds, so that we may fairly claim to have
served our ornithological apprenticeship amongst them. With the birds
of South Yorkshire and North Derbyshire we are specially familiar;
whilst repeated visits not only to the Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, and
Northumbrian littoral, but farther afield into Lancashire, and various
parts of the Lowlands and the Highlands of Scotland, have enabled us to
acquire much personal information relating to the avifauna of many a
northern shire.
The difference between the avifaunæ of the northern and southern shires
is strongly marked in many respects. Their study makes a record of
avine comparisons of the most intense interest. The important effects
produced by latitude and climate upon the bird-life of these widely
separated areas make material for fascinating investigation, and have
been fully dwelt upon as opportunities were presented. This variation
in avine phenomena is not only far too often entirely ignored, but is
apt to lead the student of bird-lore astray; due allowance has to
be made in many cases for this difference in latitude, and all that
it involves. The present volume, then, to a great extent a study of
ornithological comparisons, will, we trust, be of some service to the
bird lover or the bird student in his task of making allowances.
Unquestionably these northern shires from an ornithological point
of view are much more interesting than the southern, and especially
the south-western counties. Their avifauna is richer, and presents
far greater variety, notably during the breeding season; whilst the
marvellous phenomenon of Migration there unfolds itself each season in
a manner that is never remarked elsewhere.
CHARLES DIXON.
Paignton, S. Devon.
CONTENTS.
Chap. Page
I. By Upland Streams 11
II. On Moorlands and Roughs 35
III. On Mountain and Loch 74
IV. On Heaths and Marshes 105
V. In Forest and Copse 131
VI. In Farm and Garden 158
VII. By River and Pool 186
VIII. On Sea and Shore 209
IX. On Crag and Sea-cliff 236
X. Migration in the Northern Shires 261
Index 295
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
Bird-haunted Handa _Frontispiece_
The Dipper 15
The Gray Wagtail 25
The Common Sandpiper 28
The Red Grouse 38
The Twite 49
The Ring-ouzel 53
The Merlin 58
The Lapwing 67
The Ptarmigan 76
The Raven 77
The Dotterel 91
The Red-breasted Merganser 96
The Black-throated Diver 96
The Nightjar 107
The Stone Curlew 118
The Short-eared Owl 123
The Black-headed Gull 128
The Common Buzzard 135
The Woodcock 145
The Black Grouse 150
The Greater Spotted Woodpecker 153
The Rook 161
The Brambling 165
The Whinchat 174
The Yellow Wagtail 179
The Kingfisher 188
Titmice 190
The Tufted Duck 199
The Lesser Tern 211
The Ringed Plover 211
Sheldrakes 215
The Lesser Black-backed Gull 219
The Eider Duck 225
Gulls and Terns 229
The Razorbill 241
The Gannets 245
The Fork-tailed Petrel 255
The Fulmar 257
Migrants at a Lighthouse 270
The Hooded Crow 274
The Chiffchaff 287
The Wheatear 287
Fieldfare and Titmouse 292
AMONG THE BIRDS IN NORTHERN SHIRES.
CHAPTER I.
BY UPLAND STREAMS.
There are few things more interesting to the lover of bird-life than
the comparison of ornithological phenomena as they are presented
in various localities, separated, it may be, by but few degrees of
latitude. Not only does this apply to the species themselves--for even
in our own islands the geographical distribution of birds conforms
a good deal to latitude,--but to their migrational movements, their
resumption of voice, their seasons of reproduction, their gatherings
and movements generally, and finally to not a few habits that appear
to be confined within narrow territorial limits. We have already
dealt with bird-life in its many aspects in southern haunts with a
view to the comparison of avine phenomena with that of more northern
localities; we now propose in the present volume to review the most
salient ornithological characteristics of certain favoured northern
shires, especially with the object of bringing them out in contrast by
their comparative study. The ornithologist with a southern experience,
studying bird-life in a northern county--say in Yorkshire, for
example--will soon find that the avifauna of the two areas, although
it possesses much in common, is in many respects different. Birds that
he was wont to find common in southern haunts are rare here; others
that were scarce in the south, and which he was apt to regard even as
rarities, are quite common. Not a few species are met with that are
seldom normally seen in southern haunts, and opportunities are afforded
him of studying the nesting economy of species, the breeding areas
of which are decidedly boreal. Then, again, the change of latitude
involves a change of climate, especially in winter; slight, perhaps,
it may be, comparatively speaking, but yet sufficient to influence
the habits and movements of birds in quite a different way from those
prevailing in the milder atmosphere of southern haunts. Birds that sing
all the winter through in these southern shires are silent here at that
season; others that are sedentary there are of migratory habits in the
wilder and colder north--in obedience to those climatic influences
that act upon the food supply, and so on. The farther north he goes
the more acute will the contrast in avine phenomena become; and in
species common to the two areas--to northern and southern counties
respectively--he will find differences of from one to two months in
the ornithological calendar. Lastly, he will meet with a multitude of
interesting forms, both in summer and in winter, that are normally
strangers to southern localities at one season or the other, or at both
seasons.
We will commence our observations by an investigation of the bird-life
along the upland streams--not in their lower and quieter reaches,
but at some elevation up the hillsides where the waters hurry and
tumble along over rocky beds and between more or less precipitous
banks fringed with alders, mountain-ashes, bracken, and brambles. The
southern counties can boast no such streams; and even in the wilder
south-west of England the becks are wanting in that grandeur that
characterizes most of these turbulent northern waters. For twenty
years or more we lived surrounded by them and within ear of their
noisy clamour; whilst the birds upon their banks were our constant
companions summer and winter alike. To our mind the ideal upland stream
is one of the most picturesque features in the Peak district. They
may be grander and wilder farther north, but with experiences of them
in the remote Highlands and the Hebrides in mind, for romantic charm
and wealth of bird-life these Derbyshire and Yorkshire brooks, in our
opinion, remain unequalled. Almost every valley in the Peak can boast
a streamlet of some kind. Some of course are more imposing than others,
drain larger areas of upland, and contain a much greater volume of
water. Some plough their way across the open moorland, their bed in
summer being dry or nearly so; whilst others purl down wooded valleys
and along well-timbered bottoms, between the ridges of millstone grit
that are such a prominent feature in this particular kind of country.
In their higher and wilder reaches such rivers as the Dove, the Wye,
and the Derwent--all beloved by the angler for trout and grayling--may
be taken as very excellent examples of upland streams. The Rivelin,
with its charming branches of Blackbrook and Wyming brook, and itself
a tributary of the now polluted and ill-used Don, upon which grimy
Sheffield is partly situated, were all favourite streams of ours rich
in ornithological associations. So, too, was the Sheaf, with once
picturesque Meersbrook, especially in its upper waters between the
villages of Dore and Hathersage.
[Illustration: The Dipper.]
Were we asked to name the most characteristic bird of these upland
streams we should unhesitatingly answer, the Dipper. Not that the bird
can be regarded as plentiful anywhere; and we know not a few streams
where this engaging species has dwindled seriously in numbers during
the past twenty years, due partly to the senseless persecution of
keepers and others, and partly to the much greater number of people
that wander along the banks nowadays compared with years ago. Be this
as it may, the Dipper is still sparingly dispersed along most of the
streams suited to its requirements. Its exclusive habits tend to
characterize it as rarer than it actually is, and its peculiarity of
keeping a length of water reserved for itself and its mate creates an
impression of absolute scarcity which in many cases does not actually
exist. No wonder the old school of naturalists were at a loss to assign
a place in their classifications to this curious bird. Brisson included
it among the Sandpipers and called it Tringa merula aquatica; but
Linnæus, with more discernment, associated it with the Passeres in
his genus Sturnus, which is now restricted to the typical Starlings.
Modern ornithologists have fared little better, and the poor Dipper,
even in quite recent years, has been tossed about from one group to
another utterly regardless of its true affinities. In some modern books
we find it associated with the Thrushes, in others with the Wrens, but
with neither group falling naturally. There may be some of its special
characteristics, as, for instance, the coat of down that more or less
covers the body below the feathers, due to its peculiar habits and
economy; but, on the other hand, the very peculiar character of its
nest and eggs (which we regard as of some importance in determining
its taxonomic position) seems to suggest that the small group of birds
of which the Common Dipper is typical, is not very closely allied to
any other existing group, and fully to warrant the separation of these
birds from other Passeres into a family apart. Small as this family is,
the dozen species of which it is composed are scattered over a very
large proportion of the earth's surface. Dippers in one form or another
are found over the greater part of Europe, Asia, and North Africa; they
occur on the upland streams of the Himalayas, and in the mountains of
Formosa. Across the Atlantic they inhabit the hill streams of the
Rocky Mountains and the Andes.
Our British Dipper, as probably most readers at all familiar with the
bird may be aware, is one of the most sedentary of our indigenous
species. Both here and in those parts of continental Europe which
the typical species frequents, as well as the slightly different
northern form from Scandinavia, the birds keep closely to their
native streams summer and winter alike, only wandering from them in
the very exceptional event of the torrents becoming frost-bound. Such
a peculiarity has resulted in the establishment by variation and
isolation of an almost endless number of local races or sub-specific
forms. To a slight extent this may be remarked even in our own islands,
birds from various localities exhibiting differences of coloration,
but when we come to review the Dippers of the entire Palæarctic region
the amount of variation amongst them is much more pronounced. The
scope of the present little volume forbids a scientific revision of
the genus Cinclus; but a glimpse of the sprightly little brown and
white bird bobbing up and down like a fleck of foam amidst the whirling
waters of a northern trout stream suggests a passing allusion to these
interesting facts.
The English local names of the Dipper are not without interest. It
is somewhat curious to find that the local name of Water-crow has
been applied to this bird not only in Cornwall but almost universally
in Scotland. The names Water-ouzel and Dipper are of very ancient
application. That of "Dipper" was not "apparently invented in 1804",
as Professor Newton suggests in his _Dictionary of Birds_ (p. 151), by
the author of the letterpress in Bewick's _British Birds_ (presumably
Beilby); for we find it used many years previously (in 1771) by
Tunstall in his _Ornithologia Britannica_, a work which was reprinted
by the Willughby Society in 1880 under the editorship of Professor
Newton himself! There can be no doubt whatever that the name had been
applied much earlier still. The derivation of the words Water-crow and
Water-ouzel is not difficult to determine; but that of "Dipper" is open
to considerable doubt. To us it seems just as reasonable to presume
that the bird received this name from its unique habit of "dipping" in
the stream as from its singular dipping or bobbing motion when perched
on some stone or rock in the bed of the torrent, as is suggested in
Bewick's work on British birds. In some parts of the Highlands the
Dipper is known locally as the Kingfisher.
Although we have had not a little experience of the Dipper on the
streams of a southern county we are bound to confess that the bird
seems somewhat out of place upon them, possibly because we have
been so accustomed to his society amidst wilder surroundings in
much more northern shires. We picture him best upon the wild trout
streams of Yorkshire and Derbyshire, or as a tenant of the dancing
burns of the Highlands and the Western Isles. Here he is one of the
most characteristic species of the stream, constantly attached to
the turbulent foam-flecked waters, part and parcel of the scenery
itself. As a musician the Dipper does not take a very prominent place
in the avine chorus, but his music is in full harmony with its wild
surroundings, though often overpowered by the noise of the torrent--a
low-pitched jerky and uneven carol, not very long-continued if uttered
at frequent intervals. Perhaps we might not be strictly accurate in
describing the Dipper as a habitual perennial songster like the Robin,
nevertheless he warbles now and then during the winter months, and is
one of the first birds to resume regular music in the early spring. We
are assured that the Dipper sings at intervals during all the rigour
of a Scotch winter, proof of his robustness and hardy temperament.
In Devonshire his winter song might be naturally expected; for there
the Song Thrush and the Sky-lark are musical enough at that season,
although mute, or nearly so, in northern shires. We have listened to
his wild uneven music on some of the Yorkshire streams during winter
when icicles a couple of feet in length have draped the rocks, or
when the surrounding country-side has been covered deep with snow.
Unfortunately, almost everywhere the Dipper somehow has got a bad
name--a reputation amongst anglers for destroying the spawn of sporting
fishes. Like the poor Owl, and not a few other feathered outcasts, he
is universally persecuted for these imaginary misdeeds. But in reality
he is one of the actual preservers of the ova he is accused of eating,
for his food largely consists of larvæ of certain insects which in
that stage of their existence are particularly destructive to the
spawn. We have dissected a great many Dippers at one time and another
from many different localities, and have always been much impressed
with the uniform similarity of the contents of their stomachs--a
little grit and the remains of insects and worms. We have, however,
known the Dipper in exceptional cases to prey upon small fish, but
are convinced, by the experience of a lifetime, that such food is
taken so rarely as scarcely to deserve mention at all. Whenever we
pause to watch the aquatic gambols of this sprightly bird, we feel
less inclined to wonder why a past generation of naturalists included
it amongst the water-fowl. The way it enters the quiet pools or the
swifter running reaches of the stream, dashing beneath the surface
from some water-encircled stone, and rising again some distance away
just to take breath and then again to disappear, is never without a
certain element of surprise, accustomed as we are to the habits of
this bird. We can recall a northern stream--situated in the Rivelin
valley close to Hollow Meadows--specially favourable for watching the
actions of the Dipper. In some parts it was confined by lofty banks,
upon which we could lie concealed and look right down into the clear
water, and here, when the pair of Dippers that frequented the spot
were on the feed, we might watch their every movement whilst they were
under the surface. This stream is used as a conduit to convey the water
from one large reservoir to another, and was consequently often in
flood. We have often remarked that the Dippers were exceptionally busy
in searching for food on these occasions, doubtless because insects
and larvæ were disturbed by the unusual flow of water. Such times,
however, were not favourable for observation. We liked best to watch
the ways of these charming birds when the stream flowed slower, when
the water was clearer, and certain reaches were almost undisturbed by
the current. The Kingfisher, as most readers may know, has but one
method of feeding, by plunging into the water and returning to the
air almost at once. The Dipper, on the other hand, in his quest for
sustenance, is as much aquatic as a Grebe or a Moorhen. He is quite as
much at home in the water as in the air or on dry land. Sometimes he
walks deliberately from the bank or from a sloping moss-covered stone
into the water; at others he takes a short flight over the stream and
drops suddenly down into the pool; whilst yet again we have often seen
him arrest a long-continued flight--which, by the way, follows every
bend of the brook--and, fluttering for a moment, poise and disappear
beneath the surface at once. The Dipper only maintains his subaqueous
position by much evident exertion of his wings and legs and feet.
Generally the wings are kept in motion whilst the bird searches the
bed of the stream, but sometimes these may be seen at rest, and the
body is kept beneath the water by the feet clutching the big stones
and the strands of moss and other aquatic plants. Not only does the
bird float buoyantly enough upon the water, but it swims well, often
for many yards at a time. Dippers are exceedingly attached to certain
reaches of the stream and to favourite nesting sites, using the latter
year after year, often in spite of much disturbance. In this special
valley we always used to find the nest in one particular spot--wedged
under an overhanging rock on the bank of the stream. The nest of this
species is a very characteristic one, and cannot readily be mistaken
for that of any other British bird. In external appearance it bears
some resemblance to that of the Wren, being of the same globular
form, but a cursory examination will soon set any doubt at rest. In
a great many--we might almost say the majority of--cases the nest is
made outwardly of moss (sphagnum always by preference), amongst which
a little dry grass is interwoven, especially round the entrance hole.
This mossy globe is lined with grass roots and sometimes fine twigs,
and then again lined with an enormous quantity of dead leaves all
arranged very neatly layer over layer. There is never any lining of
wool or feathers, and the five or six white eggs are almost exactly
the same size as those of the Song Thrush. The Dipper is an early
breeder even in the northern shires, commencing to build at the end of
March or early in April, and rearing several broods during the course
of the season. The young birds are most interesting little creatures.
We retain many vivid remembrances of the actions of broods of Dippers
that we have unexpectedly disturbed. The tiny creatures, when only able
to fly or flutter for a few yards at most, will take to the water to
escape pursuit just as readily as the chicks of a Grebe or a Moorhen,
and are equally as alert and active in that element. We have upon more
than one occasion known the four or five youngsters flutter out of the
nest one after the other, and at once tumble into the stream below,
where all efforts at capture have usually been unavailing. Not only do
the nestlings dive and flutter about the water, but they are adepts
at concealing themselves amongst chinks of the rocks or under the moss
and herbage growing in the stream. When required for examination, we
always found the best way to secure them was with our landing-net.
The song of the Dipper declines considerably as spring merges into
summer. The cock bird warbles most frequently whilst sitting on some
water-encircled stone or rock, but we have known him to perch and sing
in the alder-trees growing by the water-side. We always consider him
to be in finest voice during March and April--a habit fully in keeping
with his robust temperament, and one which instantly puts us in mind of
a louder and sweeter singer, the Missel-thrush. The Dipper is the one
constant avine dweller on the upland streams, consequently we must in
fairness regard him as the most characteristic bird of these localities.
[Illustration: The Gray Wagtail.]
Another and daintier species, however, is almost his equal in this
respect, and that is the Gray Wagtail. This bird is more susceptible to
the changing seasons, and at the approach of winter deserts the higher
streams altogether, or comes down to the lower and more sheltered
reaches of others. The Gray Wagtail is a familiar bird along all our
Yorkshire and Derbyshire streams and rivers. We look for him quite as
a matter of course when we reach the rocks, and the alder and birch
and mountain-ash trees, just as we expect there to find the Dipper.
But this is in summer mostly; in winter he becomes far more familiar,
and during that season comes much nearer to the busy haunts of men. We
have often seen Gray Wagtails in the bed of the grimy Don and Sheaf in
the very heart of smoky Sheffield during mid-winter; and we know the
bird as a winter resident about all the streams and sluices and dams
in the series of Endcliffe Woods. The bird seems, however, closely
attached to the stream in its upland solitudes, and at the first sign
of spring goes back to favourite haunts among the moorlands and hills.
We can recall many a romantic reach of the Derwent, the Wye, and the
Dove, where the Gray Wagtail, the Dipper, and the Kingfisher might be
watched together, the former bird, daintiest and most charming of its
kind, deftly poised on a rock in mid-stream vigorously beating its
long tail, looking like a single feather until it was opened as the
startled bird took flight; the two latter species flying alarmed away
arrow-like, following the winding waters, the one as a particoloured
ball, the other as a blue undefined streak of refulgent light. So
likewise has the Gray Wagtail oft been our sole bird companion on many
a Highland water, both on the mainland and in Skye. We never tire
of watching its sylph-like actions, the dainty way it poises on the
stones or flits along before us stage after stage in undulating flight
uttering its cheery _chiz zit_ as it goes, or of admiring the exquisite
blending of its showy yet delicately coloured plumage. We have often
made his acquaintance upon more southern waters, far away in the remote
south-west of England, but somehow he never there evokes the same
feelings with which we greet him in northern haunts. The Gray Wagtail
visits these upland streams for the purpose of rearing its young. Not
every wanderer by the water-side is fortunate enough to get a peep
at this bird's domestic arrangements. It has, fortunately perhaps, a
happy way of concealing its nest under some large stone or overhanging
rock, or in a quiet nook, not necessarily in a secluded spot, but often
close by the wayside, where the very audacity of the selection proves
a source of safety. A scrappy little nest it is, dry grass and roots
and such-like litter thrown carelessly together, and lined with hair
or more rarely a few feathers; artless, yet possessing a rustic beauty
if wanting that elaborate finish of more painstaking nest-builders.
The five or six eggs are as unassuming as the nest that holds them,
grayish-white freckled with brown, and perhaps with here and there a
scratch of darker hue. The bird is an early breeder, making its nest
in April, although we have remarked that in Scotland it is a little
later in its operations. This pretty Wagtail still further endears
itself to us by its attachment to a certain breeding-place, returning
in many cases year by year to build its nest in one particular spot.
Unfortunately the Gray Wagtail can claim but low rank as a songster.
None of our British Wagtails are singers of much merit, and all confine
their melody to fitful and short snatches of rambling song, almost
invariably uttered as the bird hovers and flutters in the air. The Gray
Wagtail's charm rests in its pretty dress, its graceful actions, and
to some extent in its loneliness, for there are few other small birds
to arrest attention in the haunts it loves. It can claim our almost
undivided admiration on the streams of the uplands from one extreme
corner of Great Britain to the other. Certainly of few other birds can
we say so much; although such an extended distribution is entirely
due to physical conditions--to the presence of mountains and uplands
throughout that area.
[Illustration: The Common Sandpiper.]
The Dipper and the Gray Wagtail are the two characteristic birds of
the upland brook and river-side, rarely if ever seen anywhere else
under normal circumstances, and, so far as our observations go, their
happy lives are passed in much the same manner on the streams of both
northern and southern shires, with the one exceptional movement to more
sheltered areas on the part of the latter species in boreal localities.
There is, however, another charming bird of the mountain streams which
we cannot pass unnoticed, and that is the Common Sandpiper, or "Summer
Snipe" as it is called in many districts. But this species is by
no means exclusively confined to the banks and waters of the upland
streams; neither is it a permanent dweller in such localities. It is
a frequenter of our rivers and streams during summer only, the season
of their greatest attractiveness; speeding south to Africa like the
Swallows when autumn creeps over the uplands. From Cornwall to the
Shetlands, wherever there are mountain streams and upland pools we may
meet with the Common Sandpiper between the months of May and September,
but it is in the northern shires that the bird becomes most abundant,
say from the Peak district onwards. Our experience of this engaging
bird has been a lifelong one. Each succeeding spring we used to note
its arrival in the old accustomed haunts on the banks of the Yorkshire
streams and moorland pools towards the end of April. It appears upon
our Devonshire and Cornish waters nearly a fortnight earlier, yet
farther north, in the Highlands, it is seldom seen before the first
or second week in May. The return journey varies in a corresponding
manner, August and September marking its southern departure from the
north; but in the south it lingers into October, November, and even
December--not, however, by the stream side, but on the sea-shore. The
persistency with which this Sandpiper returns each year to certain
localities, and its habit of nesting in the same spot summer after
summer after a prolonged absence of seven months and a double journey
of thousands of miles, are not the least attractive portions of its
economy. For more summers than we can now recall, the streams and
reservoirs at Hollow Meadows and Red Mires--within an hour or so's walk
of Sheffield--were visited by many pairs of Summer Snipes, and their
nests came under our observation with unfailing certainty. Two pairs
of these birds were remarkably conservative in their nesting-grounds,
and used to return each summer to one spot of ground no larger than our
writing-table, and there make their nests--one pair on the steep banks
of a conduit between the reservoirs, the other on a few square yards
of gravelly ground beside Wyming brook. We could always depend upon
finding the nests of other pairs within a hundred yards of the stream
banks on certain lengths of the water. We would hazard the conjecture
that descendants of these birds continue to do so to the present day.
During summer the Sandpiper was quite as familiar an object along these
northern streams as the Dipper or the Gray Wagtail. Many a time have
we seen the three species by the water-side together. Farther north,
in Scotland, this Sandpiper becomes even more numerous, and in some
parts of the Highlands is, or used to be, most unaccountably mixed up
with the Dipper. The latter term included both species, the keepers
not distinguishing between them. We have heard the Sandpiper called a
"Water-crow" in various parts of Skye especially. Few birds evince more
anxiety at the nest, or when their helpless chicks are just abroad.
For the newly-laid eggs we cannot recall an instance of this species
displaying any concern; but when those eggs are deeply incubated or the
young hatched out the behaviour of the female bird especially becomes
very different. She will feign a broken wing or lameness, or endeavour
to draw all attention upon herself by running just out of reach of any
observer foolish enough to give pursuit. But once the young birds have
concealed themselves the parent flies away, or circles about in the
air, generally being joined by her mate. The four handsome pear-shaped
eggs--pale buff, splashed and spotted with rich brown and gray--in
their scanty nest, usually made beneath the shelter of a heath tuft or
bunch of grass, require no special protection from the parent, for they
harmonize so closely in tint with surrounding objects that discovery
is difficult in the extreme, even when we know the exact location of
their resting-place. Curiously enough the Sandpiper is not aquatic in
its habits. It never swims nor dives save when wounded, but obtains
its food whilst tripping round the muddy and sandy portions of the
water's edge. In early summer, just after their arrival, the cock
birds may frequently be seen running along the tops of walls and fences
with outspread drooping wings, or even soaring into the air uttering a
shrill note, both actions being connected with courtship and love. The
usual note of the Common Sandpiper is a shrill _weet_ uttered several
times in succession, and heard most frequently as the bird rises
startled from the bank and pursues its way across the water, often so
low as to strike the surface with its wings.
There are many other birds, of course, that may be met with by upland
streams, but the foregoing are the characteristic species, each in
every way adapted to a life in, or by, the side of their turbulent
waters. These other species found by the mountain or upland waters may
be met with in even greater plenty elsewhere, so that a mere passing
mention of them will suffice in the present chapter. The Heron, of
course, is a visitor to the side of the upland stream; often flushed
from the quiet reaches where the trout and grayling hide under the
moss-grown stones. He is, however, just as much at home by the
margin of lowland pools and streams, or about the rocky coasts and
estuaries, and no exclusive dweller or sojourner in one locality more
than another. Then the Mallard, especially in the Highlands, shows
a strong preference for these upland burns, especially during the
breeding season; and we can recall instances of flushing the duck of
this species with a numerous progeny from these mountain torrents. On
one occasion we were tramping the moorlands in Skye in company with
a gamekeeper friend and a fine retriever. Suddenly we came upon a
brood of young Wild Ducks and their mother. The young birds scattered
in all directions, and hid themselves in holes and corners by the
stream and amongst the tufts of rushes. The old bird, however, would
not leave her brood notwithstanding the onslaught of the barking dog.
With bill wide open and wings expanded she refused to be driven from
the spot; so that, to save her life we were obliged to secure the dog
and to leave the spot, where doubtless she soon gathered her brood
around her again. Then the Redshank, one of the prettiest and most
graceful of our indigenous wading birds, is a by no means unfrequent
visitor to the sandy reaches about the eddies in the Highland burns.
This we have repeatedly remarked to be the case in Cromartyshire, in
the streams that flow into Loch Carron, and in the vicinity of Strome
Ferry. But more of all these interesting birds anon. Lower down the
hillsides, where the course of the upland streams is marked by a fringe
of alder-trees, we have avine visitors in some variety, especially
during the autumn and winter months. These trees are a favourite resort
of Redpoles, Siskins, and almost all the British species of Titmice
between October and March. The Kingfisher again should claim passing
notice in the bird-life of the upland stream. He, like the Heron, may
be often met with during a ramble along the banks of these romantic
water-ways, but inasmuch as he is also a dweller on all descriptions of
water from the hills to the flat country, we cannot fairly claim him as
a special feature in the bird-life of an upland stream. There are, for
instance, many pairs of Kingfishers that habitually nest in the steep
banks of the Derwent in its higher reaches among the hills and dales of
the Peak; there are others on many of the hill brooks in the vicinity
of Sheffield; whilst we have repeatedly seen this gem-like bird on many
a Scottish burn. Lastly, we might mention that the cries of Plovers,
Curlews, Grouse, and Greenshanks, the song of Ring-ouzel, Twite, and
Titlark, the bleating of the Snipe, and the gag of Wild Geese may often
be heard mingling with the babble of these upland torrents, and the
birds themselves met with on their banks, or within a short distance
of their waters; but all these species more correctly belong to other
localities, and must be dealt with elsewhere.