BIRDS FOR LONDON
Restoration of the rook--The Gray's Inn rookery--Suggestions--On
attracting rooks--Temple Gardens rookery--Attempt to establish a
rookery at Clissold Park--A new colony of daws--Hawks--Domestic
pigeons--An abuse--Stock-dove and turtle-dove--Ornamental water-fowl,
pinioned and unpinioned--Suggestions--Wild water-fowl in the
parks--Small birds for London--Missel-thrush--Nuthatch--Wren--Loudness
a merit--Summer visitants to London--Kingfisher--Hard-billed
birds--A use for the park sparrows--Natural checks--A sanctuary
described.
My purpose in this chapter is to make a few suggestions as to the
species which may be introduced or restored with a fair prospect of
success, and which would form a valuable addition to the metropolitan
wild bird life. The species to be mentioned here have very nearly all
been resident, some of them very common, in former years; most of them
survive on the borders of London, and some still linger in diminished
numbers in a few of the interior open spaces.
Most persons would probably agree that of all the large birds that were
once common in London, the rook would be most welcome. In the chapter on
this bird I said that irretrievable disaster had overtaken the London
rookeries, that the birds had gone, or were going, never to return;
nevertheless, I believe that it would be possible, although certainly
not easy, to reintroduce them. We have not wholly lost the rook yet;
he is to be found in many places on our borders; and the continued
existence of the ancient colony at Gray's Inn is a proof that rooks can
live in London, and would doubtless be able to thrive in some of the
parks where there are large trees, and from which the birds would not
have to travel so far in search of food for their young. With regard to
the Gray's Inn rooks, which are greatly valued by the Benchers and by
very many others, I will venture to make a suggestion or two, which, if
acted on, may produce good results. Probably no bird from outside is
ever attracted to this colony, confined to so small an open space in the
very heart of London, and it is possible that through too much in-and-in
breeding for many generations, the birds have suffered a considerable
loss of vigour. It would be a very easy matter to infuse fresh blood
into it by substituting eggs from some country rookery for those in the
nests. This experiment would cost nothing; and it would also be worth
while to provide the birds with suitable provender, such as meal-worms,
at the season when the young are growing and require more food than the
parents are probably able to give them.
No doubt some readers of this book will say at once that the
reintroduction of the rook into London is impossible, since even in the
rural districts, where all the conditions are favourable, it is found
extremely difficult to induce the birds to settle where they are wanted.
A year or two ago my friend Mr. Cunninghame Graham, writing from his
place in the north, told me that he had long desired to have rooks in
his trees, and that he had written to an eminent ornithologist, with
whom he was not personally acquainted, asking for advice in the matter.
The naturalist replied at some length, pointing out the fallacies of
Socialism as a political creed, but saying nothing about the rooks.
Probably he had nothing practical to write on the subject, but he might
at least have informed his correspondent that Mr. Hawker, the famous
parson of Morwenstow, had got his rooks by praying for them. He prayed
every day for three years, and his importunity was then rewarded by the
birds coming and settling on the very trees where they were wanted.
We have an account of the curious origin of the Temple Gardens rookery,
one of the best known and most populous of the old London rookeries. In
the 'Zoologist,' vol. xxxvi. p. 196, Mr. Harting relates that it was
founded in Queen Anne's time by Sir Richard Northey, a famous lawyer at
that period, who brought the first birds from his estate at Epsom. A
bough was cut from a tree with a nest containing two young birds, and
conveyed in an open waggon to the Temple, and fixed in a tree in the
gardens. The old birds followed their young and fed them, and old
and young remained and bred in the same place. The following year a
magpie built in the gardens; her eggs were taken, and those of a rook
substituted; these in due course were hatched and the young when reared
became an addition to the colony.
Professor Newton has said of this pleasant story that he would gladly
believe it if he could, and it has been discredited by the discovery
that a rookery existed at the Temple prior to Queen Anne's time.
Aubrey's statement, which has been quoted in disproof of the Northey
legend, is that the rooks built their nests there in the spring after
the plague, 1665. My inference is that the rookery was an old one, which
the birds abandoned during the plague, and afterwards reoccupied. We may
then suppose that later on the birds went away again for good; and that
Northey, knowing that a rookery had formerly existed at the Temple,
and inspired by a lawyer's very natural admiration for the grave,
black-coated, contentious bird, succeeded in restoring it in the manner
described. In any case, it is not probable that such a story would have
been told of the Temple rookery if the plan attributed to Northey had
not been successfully employed somewhere and somewhen. It is well worth
trying again. I should like very much to see the experiment made by Lord
Ilchester, who has long desired to see the rooks back in Holland Park;
he would not have to bring the young birds in their nests in open
waggons all the way from Melbury or Abbotsbury, as there are several
rookeries where young birds in the nests could be had within five or
six miles of Holland House.
Another more promising plan is to get the young birds and rear them in
the park where they are wanted. This plan has already been recently
tried, not by any person of means, but by a humble park sergeant at
Clissold Park. Sergeant Kimber is an interesting man, and deserves to be
highly thought of by all bird-lovers in London; he has during most of
his life been a gamekeeper, but knows a great deal more about birds
and loves them better than most men who have that vocation. With the
permission of the County Council, he obtained about a dozen young rooks
from the country, some from Yorkshire and others from Wales; the birds
were placed in an enclosure with a good-sized tree growing in it with
branches drooping to the ground, so that they were able to ascend and
descend at pleasure. Unfortunately their wing feathers were cut, which
prevented them from learning to fly for about a year; even after two
years the survivors are still unable to fly as well as wild birds. Six
birds remained up to the spring of 1897; one only of these appeared
to be a male. This bird paired and a nest was built, but after its
completion the pair flew away together one morning to some open ground
on the outskirts of North London where they were accustomed to feed, and
never returned. Doubtless they had been shot by the sportsmen who still
infest the waste lands and marshes on that side of the metropolis.
Sergeant Kimber now thinks that it was a mistake to clip his rooks'
wings, and hopes to succeed better next time.
This experiment with tame rooks has incidentally resulted in a gain to
the bird life of North London. In the aviary at Clissold Park a tame
female daw was kept; there she formed a very close friendship with a
parrot, who had the original way of manifesting, or perhaps I should say
dissembling, his love by pulling out her feathers. No doubt she was very
much enamoured of the green bird with his foreign ways and commanding
voice, as she was always at his side and never in the least resented his
ungentle treatment. The poor bird's breast was at last quite denuded
of its covering, and the whole plumage was in such a thin and ragged
condition that it was thought best to separate the friends, even at the
risk of breaking their hearts; accordingly the daw was taken away and
placed with the tame rooks. The rooks treated her very well, and in
their society she probably soon forgot her foreigner. And by-and-by a
wild daw was attracted to the tree and joined the company: this was a
male bird in fine plumage, and Sergeant Kimber conceived the idea that
it would be a good stroke to catch it and clip its wing-tips to prevent
it from going away. The wild daw was very cunning; by day he would
remain most of the time with the rooks and his ragged friend, but at
night he invariably retired to roost in some tall trees in another part
of the park. In spite of his cunning he was eventually caught and placed
on the rooks' tree with just the tips of his wings clipped. From that
time the two daws were inseparable, and their romantic attachment
promised to end in a lasting and happy union; but after a few weeks
a second wild daw, this time a female, was attracted to the tree and
joined the little community. This was a fine glossy bird, and no sooner
had she come than the male daw began to make up to her, coolly throwing
over his first love. By this time he had recovered his power of flight,
and after pairing with the new-comer the two went away to spend the
honeymoon and look for a suitable residence in the country. The ragged
daw lived on with the rooks for a few weeks longer, then she too
disappeared, being now able to fly. Three or four weeks later, to
everybody's astonishment, they all came back together accompanied by a
fourth bird, a male, with which the ragged one had paired. Somewhere
roaming about outside of London they had all met, and the ragged female
had probably persuaded them to forget past unpleasantnesses and return
to the park; at all events they all seemed very friendly and happy.
During the summer of 1897 both pairs bred, one in the upper part of the
tall spire of St. Mary's Church, Stoke Newington, which stands close to
the main entrance to the park; the other in a building close by.
We see from this that wandering and apparently homeless daws often visit
London, and are quickly attracted by any tame unconfined bird of their
own species; and that where daws are wanted, an excellent plan is to use
a tame bird as a decoy.
It is exceedingly improbable that any of the raptorial species which
formerly inhabited London--peregrine falcon, kestrel, and kite--will
ever return, but we could have these birds by rearing them by hand from
the nest, and allowing them to be unconfined. If well and regularly fed
they would remain where they were reared, or if they went away for a
season they would most probably return. It would be a great pleasure to
see them soaring above or about our buildings, and they would also be
useful in keeping down the domestic pigeons, which are now much too
numerous and are fast becoming a nuisance in some of the parks, where
they devour the food originally intended for the wood-pigeons. The
domestic pigeons have a pretty appearance at St. Paul's Cathedral,
Westminster Palace, and other large public buildings; in the grassy
parks they are out of place and do not look well; furthermore, when
we find most, if not all, of these park-haunting birds come from big
private houses in the neighbourhood, where they are bred for the table,
it is surprising that the park authorities should continue to feed them
at the public expense. Let us hope that this abuse will soon be put an
end to; also that it will be recognised by the authorities that it is a
mistake to keep dovecots in the public parks.
The stock-dove could easily be introduced into London by placing its
eggs, which can be obtained at a trifling cost, under both the domestic
pigeon and wood-pigeon. It may be that the wood-pigeon would also prove
a suitable foster-parent to the turtle-dove. This species is a strict
migrant, but if bred in the parks it would no doubt come back annually
from its journeys abroad. In any case the experiment is well worth
trying.
* * * * *
Before going on to the small birds which may be introduced or encouraged
to settle, something need be said about the ornamental water-fowl of the
parks, which might be made more than they are to us, and put to a new
use. There is no doubt that just as one daw attracts other daws so do
these water-birds attract any of their wild relations which may be
passing at night. Mallards, widgeon, and teal, supposed to be wild
birds, have been known to appear in some of the parks to pair with
the park birds and remain to breed; in a few instances some of these
strangers have actually been captured by the keepers and pinioned to
prevent them from leaving. This was a great mistake; for assuming that
the birds really were wild, it is probable that after going away for the
winter they would have returned, and might even have brought some of
their wild fellows. I believe that our ornamental water-fowl ought never
to be pinioned except in the cases of a few rare exotic species. When
a bird is pinioned its chief beauty and greatest charm are lost; it is
then little more than a domestic bird, or a bird in a cage. Sheldrakes,
both common and ruddy, are infinitely more beautiful when flying than
when resting on the water; and all wild ducks are seen at their best
when, before alighting, they sweep along close to the surface, with
wings motionless and depressed, showing the bright beauty-spot. There
are, in fact, many unpinioned fowls on the park waters, and some of
these birds not only fly about their own ponds, but they occasionally
visit the waters of other parks, especially by night, and are well able
to find their way back to their own ponds. In some cases they make
prolonged visits to other parks. In one London park for the last three
years a number of tufted ducks (from eight to a dozen) have made their
appearance on the ornamental water each spring, and have remained until
the autumn, then disappeared; it is not known where they spend the
winter. In the same park a pair of pinioned ruddy sheldrakes were
kept. In April 1897 they were joined by a third bird, a drake, in very
beautiful plumage. After being two or three days in their company, he
attacked the pinioned drake with great fury and drove him off, and took
possession of the duck. The ornamental water of another park has been
visited at odd times by several Egyptian geese, sometimes appearing
regularly every morning and departing in the evening, at other times
making long stays; and I have heard of many other instances of the kind.
[Illustration: MOORHEN AND CHICKS]
There are many and good reasons for believing that water-fowl hatched
and reared in the parks would, if they went away for a period in autumn
and winter, return in spring to breed. A fair trial might be made by
giving the eggs of wild birds--widgeon, teal, gadwell, shoveller, and
other suitable British species, to the park ducks when breeding. In
this way a London race of each or of a few of these species might be
established; like our black-headed gulls, moorhens, and dabchicks, they
would be wild birds, although not shy, and they would certainly be
more beautiful and vigorous and give us more pleasure than their
pinioned relations. Coots hatched and reared by the moorhens would give
us another wild bird well suited to thrive in the park lakes; and I
will venture to add that we might even get the great crested grebe, by
placing its eggs in the dabchicks' nests. The breeding habits of these
two species are identical; they differ very considerably in size, but
there is not so great a disparity between little grebe and great grebe
as there is between the cuckoo and its foster-parent.
* * * * *
Of small birds, or songsters, it will not be necessary to mention more
than a few of the species which might be introduced with advantage,
since little can be done so long as the bird-killing cats are free of
the parks, and little will need to be done once the cats are excluded.
Such species as the robin and hedge-sparrow require protection when
breeding; they are now dying out for want of it, and will undoubtedly
increase again whenever the park authorities think proper to give it.
The quickest and most effective plan to add to the number of our species
is to procure the eggs of suitable wild birds, to be hatched in the
nests of the park birds. Thus, the missel-thrush might easily be got
back by placing its eggs in the nests of blackbirds and thrushes. The
large size and handsome plumage of the missel-thrush, or storm-cock, his
dashing motions and loud winter song, would make him one of our most
attractive birds; and that he is well able to thrive in London we have
already seen.
Another bird which no one is ever tired of seeing and hearing, and would
be a great acquisition, is the nuthatch; this species, although not
uncommon on the wooded borders of London and in some of the outlying
parks, would no doubt have to be introduced by man. The nuthatch is
a difficult bird to manage, on account of its violent temper and
impatience of confinement; but it is possible that the starling, which,
like the nuthatch, breeds in hollow trees, and feeds its young on much
the same kind of food, might make a suitable foster-parent. At all
events, the experiment is worth trying. It should be easy to procure its
eggs, as the bird is very common in many well-timbered parks and open
oak woods within a short distance of London. There are, I imagine, few
small birds more fitted to give pleasure to Londoners than the nuthatch,
on account of his quaint figure and pretty plumage, his sprightliness
and amusing squirrel-like movements on a trunk or branch of a tree.
Though not strictly a songster, his various clear penetrative call-notes
are very delightful to hear; and he is most loquacious in late winter
and early spring, when bird-voices are few. Furthermore, of wild birds
that may be taught to come to us for food he is one of the quickest to
learn, and will follow his feeder, or come at call, and deftly catch the
nuts and crusts and fragments of any kind that are thrown to him.
Two other small birds with loud bright voices--both London species, but
now very nearly vanished, as we have seen--are the oxeye and wren. I
think the best plan with regard to these two--and the same plan might
be tried with the nuthatch in the event of the starling's failure as a
foster-parent--would be to catch the young birds shortly after leaving
the nest, and release them as soon as possible in the parks. All these
three have the habit of roosting in families, old and young together, in
a hole or other sheltered place; and if taken at night and released the
following day where they were wanted, they would probably soon adapt
themselves to their new surroundings.
The wren, indeed, appears to have more adaptiveness than most birds,
being universal in the British Islands, and able to survive the cold and
scarcity of the long northern winters, even in the most bleak and barren
situations. That he is well able to thrive in London we know, in spite
of the fact that he has now all but vanished from most of our open
spaces; for we have seen that in one park, within two miles of Charing
Cross, where he is more encouraged and better protected than elsewhere,
he is actually increasing in number. He is a delightful little bird, a
very general favourite, and is a winter singer with a bright, beautiful,
lyrical song, wonderfully loud for so tiny a creature. I was never more
impressed with the loudness of its song than on one Sunday afternoon
in the spring of 1897 in Battersea Park. I was walking with the park
superintendent round the lake, listening for some new summer voice, but
for some time no bird sound reached us. Fifty or sixty boats full of
noisy rowers were on the water, and the walks were thronged with loudly
talking and laughing people, their numberless feet tramping on the
gravel paths producing a sound like that of a steam roller. My companion
exclaimed impatiently that it was impossible to hear a bird-note in so
much noise. He had scarcely spoken before a wren, quite fifty yards
away, somewhere on the island opposite to us, burst out singing, and his
bright lyric rang forth loud and clear and perfect above all that noise
of the holiday crowd.
It would be extremely difficult, perhaps impossible, to introduce
by artificial means any of the summer visitants in the absence of
soft-billed birds to play the part of foster-parents. The hedge-sparrow,
the best bird for such a task, is too rare; should he increase again,
the case will be different. At the same time it may be said that the
better protection which alone would cause the hedge-sparrow and robin
to increase would also attract the migrants to breed in the parks. At
present, the summer songsters that come regularly to breed in various
spots on the borders of London are the following: whinchat, stonechat,
redstart, nightingale, whitethroat, lesser-whitethroat, blackcap,
garden warbler, chiffchaff, willow-wren, wood-wren, sedge-warbler,
reed-warbler, pied wagtail, and tree-pipit. All these species, excepting
the wood-wren, visit the open spaces of inner London on migration in
spring. The chats, redstart, and tree-pipit are much rarer than the
others; but of the fourteen species named, at least eight can be seen or
heard by any person who cares to spend two or three days in the parks,
to watch and listen to the birds, after the middle of April. This list
is limited to the species which I have no doubt would breed in the parks
if encouraged; the three species of swallows, the wheatear, yellow
wagtail, and other summer visitants are also seen in April in London,
but these are simply passing through.
The kingfisher, singly and in pairs, has been a rather frequent visitor
to the parks during the last two years, and in some instances has made
a long stay: there is no doubt that the abundance of minnows in the
ornamental waters and the shelter of the wooded islands are a great
attraction. No instance of its attempting to breed has yet occurred,
but this may be due to the want of a suitable place to nest in. It is
possible that the noise of the Saturday and Sunday boating people in the
larger lakes, and the persecution of the sparrows, who hate him for his
brilliant dress, may drive him away; still, it would be a good plan to
construct an artificial bank or rockery, with breeding holes, on one of
the islands at a suitable place like Battersea.
The hard-billed birds would no doubt be the easiest to introduce, owing
to the large number of sparrows that nest in the park trees, from which
the eggs could be taken and those of other species substituted; and if
by acting as foster-parents to other finches the sparrows would only be
breeding crows to pick their own eyes out, as the proverb says, so much
the better. Chaffinches and greenfinches have been successfully reared
by sparrows; and to these two other equally desirable species might be
added: yellowhammer, corn-bunting, reed-bunting, bullfinch, goldfinch,
and linnet. These are charming birds and good songsters; even the
corn-bunting, although generally belittled by its biographers, is,
compared with the sparrow, an accomplished musician. They are furthermore
all exceedingly hardy, and probably as well able to thrive in London
as the sparrow itself, although not so prolific and pushing as that
sometimes troublesome bird. It is, indeed, on account of their
hardiness that they, or those of them that have the best voices, are so
much sought after; for they will live and be lively, and sing, for a
period of ten or a dozen years, even in the miserable prison of a little
cage in which they are kept by those who love them.
The excessive numbers of sparrows in the parks, where, as we have seen,
there is no natural check on their increase, is a question difficult to
deal with, and no remedy that is not somewhat unpleasant to think of has
yet been tried or suggested. In some of the parks the nests are pulled
down by the hundred; but where this plan is followed it is said to be of
little avail, owing to the energy and persistence of the birds in making
fresh nests. In other parks the birds are, or have been, netted at night
in the bushes, where they roost in crowds. Poisoning the sparrows has
also probably been tried; at all events, in one park I have found the
sparrows looking sick and languishing, and many dead birds lying about,
as if an epidemic had broken out among them; but as no signs of disease
could be detected in the birds outside the park, it could not very well
have been an epidemic.
Now since all these methods, which, like the little spasmodic attempts
to kill the cats in some of the parks, are practised in secrecy and fear
lest the public should hear of them, have so far proved ineffectual,
would it not be best to take a lesson from Nature, and restore some of
the natural checks which we have taken away? Let us in the first place
make use of the park sparrows in establishing colonies of as many new or
greatly diminished species as possible; and when we have done this, let
us further introduce, in moderate numbers, such species as prey on small
birds and their eggs and young--peregrine falcon, kestrel, sparrow-hawk,
owl, crow, daw, magpie, and jay.
However successful we may be in adding to the number of our songsters,
the sparrow will always be more numerous than all the other species
together, and on account of his abundance he will be more preyed upon;
furthermore, his big, conspicuous, slovenly nests will be more subject
to attack than the nests of other species. It has been shown that
millions of sparrows are yearly destroyed by cats in London; yet so
quickly are they snapped up by their subtle enemy that we really see
nothing or very little indeed of the process. The young birds flutter
out of their nests and drop lightly down, only to vanish like snowflakes
that fall on the water. Here we see that even in London, with but two
species to act upon, Nature, left a little to herself, has succeeded in
establishing something like that balance of forces and harmony which
exists everywhere in her own dominion. Would it not be better to leave
it to Nature in the parks, too, to do her own killing in her own swift
and secret manner? In streets and houses cats are of the greatest
service, doing for us, and unseen by us, that which we could not
effectually do for ourselves: in the parks their presence is injurious;
there we rather want Nature's feathered executioners, who are among her
most beautiful and interesting creatures.
How effective and salutary her methods are, how beautiful in their
results, may be seen in such places as have been made sanctuaries for
all wild animals, innocent and rapacious. Even on the borders of London
we have such places, and perhaps it would be hard anywhere in the rural
districts to find a more perfect sanctuary in a small space than that of
Caen Wood, at Hampstead. Although at the side of the swarming Heath, it
is really wild, since for long years it has been free from the landscape
gardener with his pretty little conventions, and the gamekeeper and
henwife with their persecutions and playing at Providence among the
creatures. If it were possible for a man to climb to the top of one
of its noble old trees--a tall cedar, beech, or elm, with a girth
of sixteen to eighteen feet--he would look down and out upon London:
leagues upon leagues of houses, stretching away to the southern horizon,
with tall chimneys, towers, and spires innumerable appearing above the
brooding cloud of smoke. But the wood itself seems not to have been
touched by its sulphurous breath; within its green shade all is fresh
as in any leafy retreat a hundred miles from town. And here the wild
creatures find a refuge. Badgers--not one pair nor two, but a big
colony--have their huge subterraneous peaceful village in the centre of
the wood. The lodge-keeper's wife told me that one evening, seeing her
dog, as she imagined, trotting from her across the lawn, she called to
him and, angered at his disregard of her voice, ran after him for some
distance among the trees, and only when she was about to lay her hands
on him discovered that she was chasing a big badger. The badgers have
for neighbours stoats and weasels, carrion crows, jays, and owls. Even
in the daytime you will find the wood-owl dozing in the deep twilight of
a holly-bush growing in the shade of a huge oak or elm. High up on the
trees at least half a dozen pairs of carrion crows have their nests; and
occasionally all the birds gather at one spot and fill the entire wood
with their tremendous excited cries. A dozen of these birds, when they
let themselves go, will create a greater uproar than a hundred cawing
rooks.
Here, too, the rabbit keeps his place in spite of so many enemies; and
to those named must be added the domestic cat. I myself have seen puss
returning to the house carrying a half-grown young rabbit to her kittens.
The moorhen and wood-pigeon also flourish, and in a still greater degree
the missel-thrush, throstle, and blackbird. In this wood I have counted
forty-three breeding species; and not only is the variety great, but
many of our best songsters, residents and migrants, are so numerous that
at certain times in spring, when birds are most vocal, you may hear at
this spot as fine a concert of sweet voices as in any wood in England.
Sanctuaries like that of Caen Wood the Metropolitan parks can never be.
Only in a few of the most favourably situated open spaces on the borders
of London could we have anything approaching to the richness and harmony
seen in this perfect transcript of wild nature. But it should be our
aim to have all the parks, even to the most central, as nearly like
sanctuaries as such small isolated urban spaces, inhabited by so limited
a number of species, may be made.
[Illustration: DABCHICK'S FLOATING NEST: ST. JAMES'S PARK]
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14, 1888.
HARTING (J. E.): 'The Birds of Hampstead Hill,' in J. L. Lobley's
_Hampstead Hill_. 4to. London, 1889.
HAMILTON (EDWARD): 'The Wild Birds of London.' _Murray's Magazine._
London, May 1889.
MILLER (CHRISTY): _Birds of Essex._ 8vo. London, 1890.
TRISTRAM-VALENTINE (J. T.): _London Birds and Beasts._ With a Preface
by F. E. Beddard. 8vo. London, 1895.
'The Birds of London.' _Edinburgh Review._ London, January 1898.
INDEX
Abney Park Cemetery, 190
'Afternoon tea,' sparrows at, 9
Albino daws, 64, 66
Anemones, decorative use of, by moorhens, 96
Arnold, Matthew, 'Lines written in Kensington Gardens,' 161
Badger-hunt, a modern, 259
Badgers at Wimbledon, 258
-- a colony of, in Caen Wood, 327
Barn Elms Park, 253
Barnes Common, 253, 254
Battersea Park, moorhen's æsthetic nest in, 96
-- -- starlings congregating in, 139
-- -- making of, 240
-- -- bird life assisted in, 242
-- -- a spirited cat in, 291
Beverley Brook, 253, 255
Birds'-nesting, 175, 183, 230
Birds of London, changes among the, 5
-- -- -- recent additions to, 89, 94
-- -- -- passerine, 104
-- -- -- their disregard of noise, 188
-- -- -- encouragement of, 242, 275
Bishop's Park, Fulham, 251
-- -- bird life in, past and present, 252
Blackbirds in London, white, 64, 123
-- proportional numbers of, 122
Booth, Mr. Charles, as to 'roughs,' 279
Bostell Woods and Heath, 226
-- -- bird life in, 227, 230
Bread-eating by the crow, 45
-- by the gull, 148
Breeding places, need of, in central parks, 163, 179
Brockwell Park, 235
Buckhurst Hill, white owl at, 166
Caen Wood, Nature's balance in, 326
Camberwell Cemetery, 233
Carrion crow, as domestic pet, 48
-- -- as mouser, 49
-- -- as practical joker, 50
Carrion crows in London, 32
-- -- mock battle of, 33
-- -- daily flight of, 42
-- -- modification of feeding habits, 44
-- -- picking food from the river, 46
-- -- visits of, to the Zoological Gardens, 175
Cat, a, on a Battersea island, 291
Cathedrals, æsthetic value of daws to, 53, 264
Cats, need of their exclusion from bird preserves, 163, 221, 276, 284
-- connection between sparrows and, 285
-- deliberate 'straying' of, 299
-- suggestion as to disposal of, 300
-- present attempts at exclusion of, from parks, 301
-- destruction of low-nesting birds by, 290
-- their numbers in London, 294
-- ownerless, 295
Cemeteries:
Kensal Green, 172
Abney Park, 190
established on Barnes Common, 254
their future use, 171, 186, 234
Chaffinch, the, as songster, 12
-- its winter resorts, 144
-- its return to London, 158
-- from the bird-fancier's point of view, 197-200
-- care of nest of, at Clissold Park, 280
Changes in bird population, 5, 267, 273
Changes in habits of birds, 93
'Chapel,' a sparrows', 114, 288
Checks, natural, to sparrow increase, 325
-- needed, on pigeon increase, 313
Churchyard Bottom Wood, 184
City, wood-pigeons nesting in the, 91
Clapham Common, 243
Clissold Park, crows formerly in, 45
-- -- hasty visit of daws to, 57
-- -- wood-pigeons in, 91
-- -- description of, 189
-- -- regard for bird life in, 190, 280
-- -- bird experiments in, 309
Corncrake, its occasional presence at Hampstead, 178
County Council, their aim in bird protection, 17
-- -- their management of Hampstead Heath, 182
-- -- their improvements in Hackney Marsh, 202-208
-- -- at Peckham Rye Park, 231
-- -- their swans, 247
-- -- suggested care of birds by, 282
-- -- suggested action of, as to stray cats, 302
Courser, cream-coloured, shot at Hackney, 209
Crows, species of, in London, 20, 29
Dabchick, _see_ Grebe
Darkness of London winter, birds affected by, 106
Decoys, action of tame birds as, 312, 314
Dogs, number of, as compared to cats, 294
-- number destroyed under the muzzling order, 300
Ducks of the Serpentine, 34
-- annual shooting of, 36
-- in Holland Park, domestic difficulties of, 40
-- terror of, on sight of crow, 41
Dulwich Park, bird life in, 234
East-enders, their regard for the chaffinch, 197
East London, paucity of breathing spaces in, 192
Eggs, ducks', stolen from Kensington Gardens, 40
-- proposed substitution of, 306, 317, 318, 323
Egg-stealing by jackdaw, 61
Enfield, the 'Raven Tree' at, 25
Exotic shrubs, 17, 164, 185, 215
Fence against cats, need of, 301
Fieldfares in London, 131, 178
Finsbury Park, 187
Flycatcher, spotted, at Ravenscourt Park, 170
-- -- in Kew Gardens, 267
Fowls, attack of, on marauding jackdaw, 61
Fuel-gatherers, 86
Fulham, former presence of spoonbills and herons at, 2, 252
-- Bishop's Park at, 251
Geese, wild, flying over London, 132
Gray's Inn Gardens, rookery in, 70
-- -- -- destruction of kite's nest in, 121
-- -- -- suggestion as to rooks in, 305
Grebe, the little, as a London bird, 97
-- -- -- his nest, 99
-- -- -- defends his nest against swans, 100
-- -- -- in St. James's Park, 102
-- -- -- seasonal movements of, 137
-- -- -- at Kew, 267
-- -- -- as possible foster parents to crested grebe, 317
Greenwich Park, former rookery in, 77
-- -- indiscriminate tree-lopping in, 224
-- -- bird life in, 225
Gulls, black-headed, in London, 145
-- -- feeding on sprats, 148
Hackney Downs, 194
-- Marsh, 201
-- -- cream-coloured courser shot at, 209
Hampstead, last of the magpies at, 22
-- nesting place of crow at, 43
-- Heath, 176
-- -- birds of, 178
Haws, wood-pigeons feeding on, 135
Hedge-sparrows, rarity of, in Kensington Gardens, 159
Herons, former nesting of, at Fulham, 2, 252
-- increase of, at Richmond, 263
Heronry at Wanstead, 212
Hibbert, the late Mr. Shirley, on robins in London, 124
-- -- -- -- -- on London birds, 152
Highbury Fields, 191
Highgate Cemetery, manifest destiny of, 186
-- Woods, characteristics of, 183
Holland Park, difficulties of ducks in, 39
-- -- as bird sanctuary, 157
Hyde Park, bird-feeders in, 15
-- -- destruction of ravens in, 25
-- -- decrease of birds in, 275
Island refuges, need of, as sanctuaries, 164, 275
-- -- in Battersea Park, 242
Jackdaw, a tame, 58
-- his egg-stealing avenged, 61
-- his parting visit, 63
-- at Clissold Park, 310
-- wild daws attracted by, 311
Jackdaws, their rarity in London, 52
-- as cathedral birds, 53, 264
-- colony of, at Kensington, 55
-- their relations with rooks, 56, 138
-- short visit of, to Clissold Park, 57
-- white, 63
-- abundance of, at Richmond, 262
Jay, its absence from the inner parks, 23
-- at Streatham, 250
-- at Wimbledon, 257
-- at Richmond, 263
-- at Kew, 267
'Jenny,' the Tower raven, 29
Kempshall, Mr., loaf-stealing crow observed by, 45
Kennington Park, 219
-- -- bird life in, 221
Kensington Gardens, raven in, 27
-- -- daws in, 55, 274
-- -- former rookery in, 77-82
-- -- a stranger's first view of, 78
-- -- destruction of trees in, 79-85
-- -- Matthew Arnold on, 161
-- -- owls in, 165, 274
Kestrels at Hackney Marsh, 206
Kew Gardens, 265
-- -- bird life in, 267
Kilburn, open spaces in, 172
Kimber, Sergeant, his experiments in Clissold Park, 309
Kingfisher in Battersea Park, 293
-- suggestion for encouragement of, 322
Kite, its former office as scavenger, 2
-- destruction of last nest of, 121
Lambeth Palace, skylarks in grounds of, 144
-- -- white owl at, 166
Lea River, swans on the, 205
-- -- former fishing in the, 206
Leg of Mutton Pond, moorhens on the, 180
Lethal chamber suggested for cats, 300
'London,' ambiguity of the term, 2
London, toleration of, by birds, 275
-- absorption of country by, 286
London districts:
East, 192
North and North-west, 172
South, 216
South-east, 218
South-west, 237
West, 156
London fields, 194
Longevity of birds, 110, 324
Macaulay, T. B., recollections of Clapham Common, 244
Magpie, rarity of, in London, 20
-- fate of last pair at Hampstead, 22
Mallard, imperfect domestication of, 38
-- nesting in trees, 39
Mansfield, Lord, birds in his grounds, 178, 181
Marsh lands by the Thames, 210
Melford, Mr. Mark, daws rescued by, 59
-- Mrs., her tame jackdaw, 59-63
Middlesex, remains of primæval forest of, 184
Migration, as seen in London, 129-133
Minet, Mr. William, Myatt's Fields given by, 219
Missel-thrush at Kew, 267
-- possible reintroduction of, 318
Moat, the, at Bishop's Park, Fulham, 251
Moat-hen, early name for moorhen, 94
Moorhens, the, in London, 94
-- decorative tastes of, 96
-- their dislike of dabchicks, 100
-- their autumnal movements, 138
-- on Hampstead Heath, 180
-- half-grown, as parent's assistants, 181
Moule, Mr. E. C. H., on the birds of Hampstead, 179
Mouser, the crow as, 49
Movements of London birds, diurnal, 38, 42, 145
-- -- -- -- seasonal, 129 _et supra_
Myatt's Fields, 219
Nests in parks, &c., taking of, 276
Newton, Professor, as to the Temple Gardens rookery, 307
Night in Kensington Gardens, 38
Nightingale in Bostell Woods, 230
-- at Streatham, 250
-- increasing rarity of, 268
Northey, Sir R., rooks brought to Temple Gardens by, 307
Nunhead Cemetery, 233
Nuthatch, possible introduction of the, 318
Offerings to mistress by tame rook, 74
Open spaces of London, 151, 171, 192, &c.
-- -- comparative area of, in the several districts, 239
Owl, white, at Lambeth, 166
Owls, brown and white, in London, 4
-- -- -- -- in Kensington Gardens, 165, 274
-- -- -- -- at Hampstead, 178
-- -- -- -- at Bostell Woods, 230
Oxeye, disappearance of, from London, 158
-- possible reintroduction of, 319
Parks, central, of London, 156
Partridge, the, at Kew, 267
Peacock feathers, use of, by moorhens, 96
Peckham Rye and Park, 230
-- -- bird life in, 232, 233
Pewit, the, at Wimbledon, 257
Pheasant, the, at Kew, 267
Phillips, Mr. M. B., his tame crow, 49
Pigeon, domestic, increase of, in London, 53
-- -- need of check on, 313
-- homing, shot on Hampstead Marsh, 208
Pike, destruction of water-fowl by, 213
Pinioning, 315
Plumstead, 225
Ponds, provision for bird life on, 180, 196
-- small, swans on, 247
Putney Heath, 255
Queen's Park, Kilburn, 172
-- private grounds at Kew, 267
-- -- -- -- -- proposed opening of, 269
Rabbits in Hyde Park, destruction of, by cats, 293
Ranelagh Sporting Club, 252
Raptorial birds, their possible reintroduction, 312, 325
Raven, bracelet stolen by, 26
Ravens, their former presence in London, 25
-- fate of the last pair, 25
-- duel in Regent's Park, 27
-- savagery towards their young, 127
Ravenscourt Park, 168
Regent's Park, 173
Richmond Park, 261
Ring, theft and restoration of, by rook, 75
Ringdove, _see_ Wood-pigeon
Robins, growing scarceness of, 124, 159
-- their intolerant spirit, 126, 127
-- annual scattering of, 140
Roding, the river, 211
Rook, tame, curious customs of, 73-77
Rookery in Gray's Inn Gardens, 70
-- in Kensington Gardens, fate of, 77-84
Rookeries, 178, 212, 235, 250, 258
Rooks, daws joining a company of, 56, 138
-- approaching disappearance of, 70
-- their characteristics, 72
-- their winter roosting places, 138
-- at Richmond, 257
-- proposed reintroduction of, to London, 305, 309
Rook shooting, herons scared by, 214
-- -- not approved of by rooks, 258
'Rough,' the, his hunting instincts, 278
St. James's Park, little grebes nesting at, 98
-- -- -- as a winter bird resort, 147
Sanctuary for birds at Caen Wood, 326
Sanctuaries for birds, need of, 163, 179, 213
Scavengers, birds as, 2, 8, 24, 44, 46
Serpentine, suicide of raven in, 27
-- need of an island refuge in, 164
'Shindies,' sparrows', 113
Shooting of ducks in Hyde Park, 37
Shrubs for parks, native preferable to exotic, 17, 164, 185, 215
Singing matches of chaffinches, 198
Skylark, 144, 205, 209, 257
Soaring birds, appreciation of height helped by, 53, 264
Soho Square, wood-pigeons nesting in, 91
Southwark Park, 219
-- -- bird life in, 220
Sparrow, a tame, 108
-- a love-sick, 112
Sparrows, companionship of, 7
-- their predominance, 105
-- intelligence, 107
-- domestic irregularities, 111
-- 'shindies,' 113
-- vesper song, 115
-- pugnacity of those at the Tower, 141
-- cats as check on increase of, 285, 325
-- naturally tree birds, 287
-- utilisation of, as foster-parents, 323
-- present attempts to check their number, 324
Species of birds lost to London, 197, 271
-- -- -- decrease of, 272
-- -- -- proposed restoration of, 304
Spoonbills, their former presence at Fulham, 2, 252
'Sport,' fascination of, 199
Stables, Dr. Gordon, on domestic relations of sparrows, 111
Stanley, Bishop, on moorhens, 95
Starlings as London birds, 116
-- labour of, in feeding their young, 117, 120
-- variety of their notes, 119
-- autumnal gatherings of, 139
Stock-dove in London, 103
-- possibility of its reintroduction, 31
'Straying' of cats, 299
Streatham Common, 248
-- -- bird life on, 250
Suburbs, abundance of birds in the, 155
Suggestion as to white daws, 66
-- as to water-fowl at Hampstead, 181
-- -- -- -- at Victoria Park, 196
-- as to pond at Kennington, 221
-- as to moat at Fulham, 252
-- as to care of bird life by County Council, 282
-- as to Gray's Inn rooks, 305
-- as to disposal of stray cats, 300
-- as to reintroduction of birds to London, 304
-- as to encouragement of kingfishers, 322
Summer visitants, their usual route, 157
-- -- at Hampstead, 178
-- -- at Battersea Park, 243
-- songsters in the suburbs, 321
Suspiciousness of sparrows, 107
Swallows as London visitors, 130
Swans and dabchicks, battle between, 100
-- their unsuitableness on small ponds, 186, 247
-- of the river Lea, 205
Tame birds as decoys, 312, 314
Temple Gardens, origin of rookery in, 307
Thames, the, as hunting ground for crows, 46
Thrushes, growing scarceness of, 160
Tits, growing rarity of, 159
Tooting Bec, 246
-- Graveney, 248
Tower of London, ravens at the, 27
-- -- -- fieldfares on tree at, 132
-- -- -- fate of robin at, 141
Trap-shooting, sale of jackdaws for, 59
Trees, ducks nesting in, 39
-- destruction of, in Kensington Gardens, 79-84
-- old, due care of, 161
-- their growth stunted by smoke, 196
-- lopping of, at Greenwich, 224
-- rooks driven away by mutilation of, 71, 77, 81
Tristram-Valentine, the late Mr., on the starling in London, 126
-- on gulls in London, 145
Tuck, Mr. W. H., on the Kensington crows, 42
Turtle-dove, possible introduction of, 314
Vesper songs of birds, 115
Victoria Park, 194, 195
-- -- singing lessons to chaffinches in, 198
Visitants, occasional, 29, 97, 138, 143-145
Wandsworth Common, 245, 246
Wanstead Park, 210
-- -- bird life in, 212
Warblers in London, 143
-- at Hampstead, 178
-- in Bostell Woods, 228
Waterfowl, ornamental, relative value of, 34, 68
-- rare, visits of, to the parks, 97, 145, 314, 316
Waterlow Park, bird population of, 185
-- -- swans at, 186
Westbourne Park, wood-pigeons at coal deposit at, 91
West London, open spaces on borders of, 171
Wheatears on Hampstead Heath, 130, 178
White jackdaws, 64
-- ravens, 65
-- blackbirds, 123
White House Fishery, 206, 209
-- -- resort of Hackney 'sportsmen,' 207
Whiteness, black species most subject to vary into, 64
Willughby on white ravens, 65
Wimbledon Common, bird life on, 257
-- -- badgers at, 258
Woodpecker, green, at Hampstead, 263
-- -- at Kew, 267
-- lesser spotted, 178, 225, 267
-- spotted, disappearance of, 178
Wood-pigeons, their increase in London, 6, 89
-- recent arrival of, 90, 101
-- changes in their habits, 93
-- their autumnal exodus, 134
-- a singular habit of, 135
Wren, gradual disappearance of, 159
-- increase of, in Battersea Park, 243
-- strength of vocal powers, 320
-- goldcrest, at Kew, 267
Wryneck at Kew, 267, 274
Yarrell on magpies in Kensington Gardens, 22
Yellowhammer at Hampstead Heath, 177
-- at Wandsworth Common, 246
-- at Barnes Common, 254
Zoological Gardens, visits from crows to the, 176
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Transcriber's note:
Some illustrations have been relocated to fall between paragraphs
rather than within and to match the text better.