CHAPTER IV.

IN THE AIR AND ON THE TREES.

THE SWALLOW.

(_Hirundo rustica._)

The nest of the Swallow is in the shape of half a saucer, quite open, and formed of clay, into which straw and grass are cleverly kneaded. It is built in old huts, in chimneys, also under the eaves of houses, often so low, that it can easily be reached by an outstretched arm. This bird is truly a household companion with us in Hungary. The first clutch of the year consists of five to six eggs, the second which comes at Midsummer, of three or four; they are white, speckled with reddish-brown and grey.

It is a pleasure for man, to observe the daily life of the Swallow. In spring it returns to its old nest, tidies it up, and then its domestic felicity begins. In the early morning light, it may be seen sitting on the roof, on the window-sill, or on a post, cleaning and arranging its plumage; then it wakes the household, with its twittering morning song. Next husband and wife begin their flight. Swift as an arrow, off they go, seizing flying insects and caressing each other on the way. The Chimney Swallow, when on the wing, utters a hasty “_Beeweest, beeweest_,” especially if it is alarmed. Its cry is a tender “_Weet_” or “_Weeda weet_.”

Soon comes the brooding time; then, the young ones slip out of the eggs, and the work of feeding and educating begins. The parents take it in turns to perform these duties, which they do with the greatest industry, and even when the young ones are as big as themselves, and fully fledged, they still place them in a row on some bough, and bring them food. It is beautiful to see with what fidelity this is done. It is a sight to move heart and mind with tenderness, and this is the pet bird of our people, who care for it, and gladly give it shelter and protection; not however, that of the Southerners, who catch and cook Swallows by hundreds of thousands.

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We hear from all parts of the country of the scarcity of Swallows, and various theories have been offered as to the reason of this. In France their numbers have been for years systematically reduced by the snaring and destruction of them, in various ways, for table use. An instance of this I can personally vouch for. A doctor in Nismes, the brother of a friend of my own, who is keen on bird protection, being in the market one day, was pressed by a poulterer to buy Larks. When he refused, the man, thinking the price was too high for him, took him aside and showed him two hampers apparently full of these birds, which are allowed to be sold there, whereas the massacre of Swallows is illegal. On the top was a layer of Larks, underneath were Swallows only. “These I can do cheaper,” he said.

The Midland farmer I alluded to before, Mr. E. Hancock, who writes to me at times, and who has commented on the few Swallows about, sends me a story of a pair nesting in his bedroom. They built over a picture frame, brought out their young successfully, and the youngsters having gone out into the wide world, the two parent birds remained in the home. One roosted regularly on a clock in the bedroom, the other upon the picture frame. It is possible that this pair, or one of them, was hatched out on the picture at Great Bealings House, Suffolk, of which I have written elsewhere. Who can tell? A few days ago they began cleaning, relining and repairing the nest, making all ready for the coming of their second brood.

Lady Farren had little silver rings put on the young of the second brood hatched over the portrait in the bedroom at Great Bealings. A bird, with the ring still on came to breed in that same place two years later.

The poor Swallows often suffer terribly from storms and unseasonable weather coming after they have left their warm winter quarters. Mr. Poole, of Ealing, told me that being at his angling quarters on the river Kennet, Ham Bridge, near Newbury, on April 25, 1908, at 8.15 a.m., he saw Martins and Swallows hawking flies, most probably the _grannow_, as there had been some previous hatches of this fly noticed. The season earlier had been a warm one and these birds had arrived early.

It was snowing hard at the time, and had been doing so for some few hours, and three or four inches of snow lay on the ground. All that day it snowed continuously, ceasing only at about 7 p.m., with a fall nearly two feet deep. The frost was occasionally severe during the day. On the morrow, April 26, it was intensely bright, and even hot in the sun, the snow disappearing very quickly; but, said Mr. Poole, “I saw not a sign of either Swallow or Martin and indeed they were scarce on the Kennet for the rest of the season. I also noted a great scarcity upon the riven Itchen, in Hampshire.”

A lady also tells me that near Lynn in Norfolk, during the great cold, the hungry Swallows came down on her garden lawn and picked up the scattered crumbs of bread.

Probably numbers perished of cold and hunger. As Swallows live entirely on insects, the diminution in their numbers is a serious matter.

It is sometimes necessary, in order to preserve the proper order of things, to describe what every one knows. The most striking characteristics of the Swallow, which distinguish it from its congeners are as follows: Brow and throat a beautiful chestnut brown; breast, back, wings, and tail a fine black with a bluish metallic lustre. With regard to the tail however, only the two middle feathers are pure black, on the others small whitish specks are discernible. The outer tail-feathers form a long pronged fork. The underparts are sometimes white, sometimes brownish. The beak is very small, the gape wide. The open jaw forms a kind of little pocket. The legs are small with sharp claws suitable for grasping.

THE HOUSE MARTIN.

(_Chelidon urbica._)

While the Chimney Swallow builds inside houses, under some circumstances even in the fire-place--thus becoming a beloved member of the family,--the House Martin constructs its strong and comparatively large nest on the outside of the building. In mountainous districts it is found also in an overhanging position on the steep rocks, where it is sheltered from the rain. In many villages, where windows and doors of the upper floor are kept shut, so that the Chimney Swallow cannot come in, the latter is not found, and the House Martin then takes its place.

This Swallow also lives entirely upon flying insects. It spends most of its time on the wing otherwise it could not live. It has, consequently, small, weak legs, which are only useful for clinging. It is as useful as its relative but has less confidence in man; it is less familiar. Neither does it please our ears with such a pretty twittering, and its enclosed, remote nest, affords us no insight to its family life. It arrives later in the spring than the Swallow, and assembles in the autumn in flocks, on towers, trees, roofs of houses and churches. One fine day we find they are all up and away--for the distant South.

This bird deserves every care and protection.

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I had been watching with interest the building of some nests of the House Martin one season, and enjoying the sight of the pretty creatures as they circled about a house I was staying in for a time, and the way they

dived in under the eaves. But those bold marauders the House Sparrows, whom over-feeding and indulgence have corrupted and made indolent, forcibly took possession of these homes which were ready for immediate habitation. My neighbour literally fought the intruders, brandishing a clothes-prop from her open bedroom window for several mornings and evenings. The Martins forsook the nests at last in dudgeon, worn out with anxiety as to their homes which are now empty, for my friend declares no Sparrows shall have them. This is one of the worst indictments against the Sparrow, as we all prefer the graceful and useful House Martins about our homes; and through this evil habit of the former their numbers are greatly lessening.

There has been a general complaint of late years that the numbers of the Swallow family are decreasing. This is an international question. If the Southern European States net and kill Swallows and other small useful birds which are passing through on their migratory flight, the more Northern States naturally suffer loss. That is why many of us regret greatly that England has not as yet seen her way towards joining that International convention for the protection of wild birds which had its first beginning in Germany in a little band of foresters and to which nearly all the European States excepting England now subscribe.

The whole study of the migration of birds is full of interest and, indeed, of mystery, much as we have learned of their life history during the last fifty years. As a humble student of bird-life, glad to learn all I can from other students, I have found that those who know most about this wonderful migration are the most modest in making definite assertions in the matter. So little, they will tell one, is as yet absolutely established fact, “the way of the bird in the air” is still shrouded in mystery.

The House Martin is smaller than the Chimney Swallow and is easily distinguished from it. At the first glance we are struck by the two colours of its plumage, black and white. Throat, breast, underparts, and also the rump are white; beak, neck, mantle, wings, and tail, black. The little legs are covered in front with white down, like little trousers. The throat is less white than that of the Swallow. Its nest is half-globular, built of clay, and has only a very narrow opening. It builds under eaves, or cornices, in sheltered places on houses and churches, in whole colonies, sometimes in groups, also one over another like a bunch of grapes. It lays five, sometimes seven white eggs.

THE SAND MARTIN.

(_Cotile riparia._)

The Sand Martin flies quickly, but not with the arrow-like speed of the Chimney Swallow. It dwells on the waterside, where it nests in colonies of hundreds, even thousands. The nest is composed almost exclusively of earth, and is placed in the steep high bank or in the walls of a landslip, and it is remarkable as to its architecture. The little bird excavates a long horizontal tunnel in the side of the bank, at the end of which is an oven-like cave, in which it builds its nest of vegetable fibre, roots, feathers and hair. The neighbours build so close together that the bank in many places appears to be completely honeycombed. These nests are built at least 12 inches from the surface of the bank. This bird visits the neighbouring streams and ponds in flocks, circling and darting here and there as is necessary in the pursuit of the winged water-insects. On its return in the spring it seeks and enlarges its old nest hole. It is widely distributed and occurs in great numbers.

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The Sand Martin arrives in Great Britain often as early as the last week in March; it is also one of the first species to leave us. The Sparrows often oust whole little colonies of these birds from their dwellings, but when the colony is a large one they get the better of the hectoring intruders. As soon as the young are able to leave the nest they go to spots where there is water, as they find their food all day long in localities where there is an abundance of insects--gnats especially. Most useful they are in marshy localities, where the

atmosphere would be intolerable for human beings but for the work of these little creatures. A little dry grass and a quantity of feathers supplies material for the nest which, being in a little chamber up a tunnel, out of the disinfecting wind, gets flea-infested and very unpleasant. Railway cuttings are much frequented both by Martins and Wagtails because the passing of a train stirs up insect life in it.

The gnat is frightfully prolific; it would soon poison our water as well as render it hard for men to breathe. A mother gnat is said to lay from 200 to 300 eggs at one time, and in two weeks the young from these are able to lay eggs themselves. Gnats must themselves be needed in the economy of nature, but if not kept in check they would render our life absolutely unbearable; they form the food for fishes, however, as well as for birds.

A porter at a railway station close to a cutting told Mr. C. Simeon, who wrote on angling and natural history, that they did not allow boys about, robbing the eggs in the colonies nesting there. “They”--the birds--“are such good friends to us that we won’t let anyone meddle with them.” He explained further that the flies about the station would be unbearable but for the Martins that were always hawking about it. Before the Martins arrived a few warm spring days often brought out a troublesome number of flies. “Now,” he concluded, “we may see a fly now and then, but that is all.”

The Sand Martin is smaller than the others of the Swallow family and has dull simple coloured plumage. Back greyish brown, throat and underparts white, the short forked tail is of a uniform ashen-grey. Feet small but strong. It lays five small, pure white eggs.

THE SWIFT.

(_Cypselus ápus._)

The Swift comes to Hungary early in May and leaves again the first days of August. In England it comes and leaves about the end of these months, that is as soon as the young are ready to fly. The materials for the nest are obtained on the wing, therefore often with difficulty, as the wind brings it. These are glued together by the viscous secretions of the bird. Sometimes, however, it robs Martins, House-Sparrows and Starlings of their homes. The wild note of _see-see_ has gained for the Swifts the name of “Screechers,” and “Devilings” in Great Britain. They always hunt in companies and one might say that they compass the wide world in their rapid and powerful flight. The feet which are so helpless on the ground are well adapted to clinging on to the rocks and heights where they breed. The work Swifts do in clearing the air of insects must be enormous, these forming all their food.

This is one of the most interesting of our British birds, and one that is still an unknown quantity, in some respects, to the most learned of our ornithologists. “It soars on higher wing” even than the Skylark. A larger bird, it rises until it is lost to the keenest sight, remaining in the air longer, also, than perhaps any other bird. Whether it is capable of rising from the ground, when once there, is, curiously enough, still a matter of dispute among certain naturalists. “Can Swifts take wing from the ground?” was a question raised not long ago in “Nature Notes,” the organ of the Selborne Society.

Over two centuries ago Dr. Plot wrote of the Swift, “ ... it having so very long wings, and so short legs and small feet, that it cannot easily rise from the ground unless it be very plain and free from grass; wherefore it either always flies or sits on the tops of churches, towers, or else hangs on other ancient buildings by its sharp claws, from which it falls and so takes its flight.” It would appear from old records to be very much commoner now in our country than it was; and several recent accounts attest to its trick of exploring the old nesting-hole of a Starling. Mr. Yates, of Staffordshire, and Mr. Carr-Ellison, of Alnwick, both give interesting facts in corroboration of this proclivity. In an Eccleshall street Mr. Yates saw a Swift enter a hole where it had been in the habit of nesting, but it quickly emerged with a Starling fast to its tail. So weighted, the unlucky Swift soon came to the ground and to grief, but it was rescued and was started on its flight again. The Alnwick naturalist, again, saw a Starling pecking at a grounded Swift, and drove the former away. The Starling then flew on to an apple espalier close by, and watched the Swift, which tried to fly along the slightly sloping walk, but it could not get its wings clear of the ground. Its friend lifted and threw it up in the air. Three times this gentleman has witnessed the same scene at long intervals. The reason of it is that he had had a hole made near his study window for nesting purposes. Starlings always build in this in April or early in May, and after they have left Swifts build in the same hole. Sometimes they attempt this too soon; one comes to explore the hole, and gets caught by a returning Starling who at once pulls it to the ground below, where it is pecked whenever it tries to move. The Swift never alights on the ground of its own free will; about eighty of these birds, which were picked up dead on a peninsula where I once sojourned, had dropped, exhausted by violent storms encountered on the migratory flight, and there for want of food and help they had perished.

It is a delight to watch the evolutions of a Swift on a clear evening; with a grand, falcon-like stooping, the cock-bird begins to drive its mate back to her nest; at least, such is supposed to be its intention. The males first rise high in the air, and then make the swoop, and there is much evading by the females, and renewed pursuit, after which the males come back alone to enjoy themselves whilst their mates sit quietly on their nests.

The Swift, which used to be classed with Swallows, is now placed in the same order as the Fern Owl or Goatsucker, being, it is decided by scientific authorities, more allied to the latter in its structural affinity than to the Swallow. Its general colour is a bronzed blackish-brown; the throat is a greyish-white; the bill, claws and toes are black. The young birds have more white about the throat than the adults. The tail is forked, the wings are long and narrow, formed like a sickle. The eggs are generally only two in number, oval in shape and dead white, whereas the Swallows and the Martins lay four to six eggs each. Also the Swift has only one brood in the season, instead of two.

THE NIGHTJAR.

(_Caprimulgus Europæus._)

The Nightjar is the bird of twilight and late evening. When the sun has set and twilight is spreading over the land the bird leaves its day hiding place, on the bough of an old tree, where it has clung the whole time, undistinguishable from the bough on account of the colour of its plumage. It rises on the wing, and with its peculiar, irresolute flight, makes for the plain, or the bare places, and clearings in the woods.

Like the Swallow it catches its prey on the wing--the flying insects of the dusk, among them the largest night moths. Its cry is a pleasant faint “_Häit, häit_.”

There is a wide-spread, foolish superstition that the Nightjar sucks the milk of cows and goats; it is, indeed, known to many people under the name of “Goat Sucker.” This has arisen from the fact that it is often seen flying about, here and there, in the pasture fields. It darts down, then flies up again and seems to glance stealthily around. This behaviour, and its great mouth, have given it a bad name. Every herdsman, and indeed every one else who uses his eyes, knows that the droppings of cows simply swarm with insects towards evening. The Nightjar knows this also, and it is for that reason that the innocent bird frequents such places.

It is very useful and deserves help and protection, and the more so because it is somewhat rare in Hungary.

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In the middle of May the Fern Owl or Nightjar arrives in Great Britain, and utters his jarring or churring spinning-wheel song over the sloping ground of many a common, where the golden gorse blossoms give out their delicious, apricot-like scent, hanging over rifts in the sandstone; and the ground below is studded with patches of ling, below which again luxuriant green ferns, having their roots in the cool moist bottoms, raise their tall fronds. It is warm on the bare patches of stony, sandy soil, on which the sun has been shining all the afternoon, and moths with other winged insects are here in numbers. The Fern Owls know that, and they are churring and squeaking over the slopes and tumbling and darting about after their winged prey, flying quite near to you as you rest on a bit of their hunting ground.

On a bare spot on the sunny slope, where a few gorse needles and bits of dead bracken lie, two oblong creamy white eggs will be laid later, marbled and veined in such tones as match their surroundings of stones, dead leaves and bits of brown fern-stalk, so closely that it is by a rare chance that the eye distinguishes them. And when the little creatures are hatched out, they will look, at first, just like a bit of lichen covered stone and a dead leaf. The mother will, it is said, pick her eggs up and place them elsewhere if an intruder has approached them too closely. When the young birds begin to flutter with their wings, the parent bird shifts them up by easy stages, through the low growth of heather and ferns, hustling them on, and bearing them up, until they reach the lowest branches of some dipping oak bough, where they sit in a line with the branch they rest on, invisible to the ordinary observer; and there they are fed with scarcely a pause in the flight of the industrious parent. In Devonshire they feed much on “fern-web”--namely, small chafers.

It is a curious thing that the unjust appellation of “goat sucker,” given from time immemorial to this bird, has its equivalent in almost every country of Europe. It is like the case of the barn-owl, which is called “oil drinker” in the south of France. Night-feeding birds have always been the objects of ignorant persecution. The Nightjar is called tette chèvre in France and Geissmelker in Germany. Crapaud-volant is another of its names, after the toad, which is also said to suck goat’s milk.

The Nightjar is about 10 inches in length. It is a peculiar bird. The plumage is fine and soft; in this, as well as in its colour, reminding us of the Owl, with this difference, that the yellow in the colouring of the Owl is not so pronounced and the ashen-grey and washed-out looking brown is therefore more decided. The two middle tail feathers are a beautiful grey with dark dots and intermittent cross-stripes. The head is large, the eyes dark-brown and large, and they have power to see clearly in the twilight. The beak is small, the gape, on the other hand, relatively enormous, forming a yawning abyss when open; the edge of the upper mandible beset with moveable bristles. Legs short and weak. It does not build a nest. It lays two eggs on the bare ground and there hatches them. The eggs are nearly white with dark marble-like veining.

THE GREEN WOODPECKER.

(_Gecinus viridis._)

This Woodpecker is indefatigible in its work of hacking trees and dragging out worms; it flies in a curve from tree to tree, always beginning its climb from the bottom; finds out the weak places in the tree, in which it pecks holes so that it can reach the insects in them with its long tongue, and so furnish itself with a meal. It is equally busy on the ground, with the ant-heaps, which it bores into. Then when the ants collect together it flings out its long sticky tongue; the ants are caught on it, as on a lime twig, and so they find their way in to the stomach of the bird. The Woodpecker carries on this business also in winter, when he breaks through the hard frozen side of the ant-hill, and surprises and decimates the inhabitants while in their winter sleep.

It is a noisy bird whose “_klu-klu-klu-klu_” echoes through the wood, breaking in on many a lonely hour for the woodman; a real blessing in the orchard, and a skilful surgeon for invalid trees; on that account it deserves protection and care.

In this country it is fairly common.

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This is the largest and best known of our English Woodpeckers, and it occurs in most of our wooded districts south of Derbyshire and Yorkshire. In the northern counties it only breeds occasionally. In Scotland it is little known and from Ireland it is also practically absent. In England, too, it is very local in its occurrences. The song which roused my imagination most in childhood’s days was that one with the refrain about “The woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree.” And the fact that as I listened to it I could only gaze out of the old-fashioned bow windows of a town house, which looked out over a sloping expanse of smoky chimneys, made the idea of the Woodpecker tapping mysteriously suggestive and attractive. Since then I have heard it in many a country--the green species and its relatives, and the song takes me always back to the old home and the mother’s side by the piano.

Windy March found me one morning in a pleasant wooded district in Suffolk. Above the tossing of the branches of the great elms, as the gale rushed over, sounded the notes of the Mistle-Thrush, fitly named the storm-cock, singing out his defiance to the weather, as he swayed on the topmost bough of an old cedar across the lawn. He is one of the earliest heralds of spring, and is never daunted by the weather, though it revert to wintry wildness. On the same lawn, well kept though it be, if we look out early enough, we may see a pair of Green Woodpeckers. Last evening, when for a time all was hushed and still, the well-known yiking laugh of the Yaffil, as Chaucer called him, came over from the avenue, whence, too, had sounded his busy drumming. Then he and his mate were busy getting the grubs that had bored deep down in the timber, but now come up near the bark of the trees in order to get the warmth necessary for their development. In the early morning hours, when the watchful gardener has not yet appeared, the pair tear holes in his well-tended lawns with their feet, and hack at the turf with strong bills to get at the grubs below. They feed indeed largely on ground grubs throughout the year, as well as on ants in summer, and timber-haunting grubs and beetles.

The Lesser Spotted species, although not so widely distributed, is even more common in the south of England, and near London. One was shot lately in Scotland, as “a very rare bird.” It is probably chiefly owing to the cutting down of old forests that they are not found in Scotland. Now and again they may even be seen in Kensington Gardens.

We have no picture of the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker (_Dendrocopus minor_). It is perhaps oftener present with us than is supposed, being smaller than its relatives. Also it frequents taller trees. I have seen numbers of these bright busy creatures in Hungary, in the poplars, along the river Waag, in the foothills of the Carpathians. Its colouring is much the same as the Greater Spotted species, only the markings are different and it is only just over five inches in length, whereas its near congener is just over nine inches. The male bird makes the same loud vibrating noise in the trees as the latter.

The Green Woodpecker is 12 inches in length. The mantle is bright olive-green. The crown of the male bird, as far down as the nape, is fiery red, also the moustaches. The lores and cheeks black, is less crimson on the head of the female, and the moustaches are black. The outer feathers of the wing are nearly black with white flecks. It has two front and two back toes; the claws, strong, curved and adapted for clinging. The tail feathers strong and suitable for pressing. Beak leaden-grey, strong, with an edge like an adze; worm shaped tongue which can be greatly extended. Having selected a suitable tree, it makes its nest hole at a medium height, with a narrow entrance and lays in it six--sometimes, but rarely--eight dazzling snow white eggs.

THE GREATER SPOTTED WOODPECKER.

(_Dendrocopus major._)

This also is a busy hammering bird, which flies energetically about the woods and gardens, climbing up the trees from the bottom, closely examining the bark and wood for grubs and bark-beetles, and extracting them with its long pointed tongue. When opportunity offers, it also attacks oily seeds, such as those of the sunflower and berries; but this must not be counted as harmful. By its whole nature, and its peculiar work it belongs decidedly to the most useful of birds. There is a widely spread belief and suspicion among the country people that this Woodpecker spoils the healthy trees, but its beak cannot avail beyond a certain degree of hardness; it can only pierce holes where the wood is softened by rot, and therefore harbours timber grubs. The fine wood-dust under the trees where the Woodpecker has been at work calls the attention of the good gardener to the bad state of the tree, and he can then take steps to arrest the mischief if not too late. The Spotted Woodpecker can conceal itself very quickly. When it sees a human being it clambers up the opposite side of the tree trunk. In autumn it roams about with swarms of other tree-cleansing birds. In spring it makes a loud drumming noise among the dry branches.

It is fairly common in Hungary, but is less so in Great Britain, although pretty well distributed in the wooded portions of England. In Scotland generally it is rare, but southwards from the Shetlands, down to the east coast, it occurs at times on migratory flight.

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THISis a black, white, and fiery-red speckled bird, length over nine inches. The black lores extend like a bridle to the neck. Back and rump black. In the male the back part of the head is red, in the female black; in both the lower part a burning red. The sides of the underparts dingy white; on the shoulder a white spot; on the flight feathers white, cross flecks. Tail strong, the middle feathers pointed and stiff, suitable for climbing. Beak relatively short, but strong at the base, pointed like a chisel. It bores its nesting hole in trees about half way up, the entrance being round and only just large enough for the bird to go in and out. It lays four eggs, occasionally six, of a dazzling snow white, with delicate shells.

THE TREE CREEPER.

(_Certhia familiaris._)

The winsome little Tree-Creeper is distributed all over Great Britain, but you need a sharp eye to detect it in its quiet colouring on the trunk of a tree with which its quiet colours are in perfect harmony. Within the crevices of the bark it finds its diet of destructive creatures’ eggs which are glued to the bark and little spiders which hide there. During the winter it associates with the Titmice and Fire-crested Wrens. Upwards and downwards and round about the old tree trunk it moves. It might be taken for a mouse or some such creature; it moves about so deftly and so close to the hole of its tree, a useful unobtrusive little bird. In the United States they consider this species so useful that they fix a box for it, to entice it to nest in gardens.

The Tree-Creeper climbs as nimbly as the best Woodpecker. It cannot extend its tongue as that bird does, but can use it very cleverly. With its fine little bill it can pierce into the smallest crevices and extract from them the tiniest grubs. It is of great use in wood and garden. Its usual note is a low “_seet_” or “_seet, seet, seet_.” The simple song of the male bird is recognisable by the syllabes _teet, teet, teet, titi-woi-teet_.

It is not uncommon in Hungary.

* * * * *

THE Tree Creeper is smaller even than the Wren, but is longer than that bird; it is a tiny creature with a stiff tail which is very useful in climbing. There are three front toes and one back toe on the little legs; the

bill is delicate and slightly curved; the upperside of the body is the same grey of the tree trunks, spotted with white. It lays five--sometimes as many as nine--milk-white eggs, delicately speckled with rust-red and blood-red spots. The nest is made in crevices, small holes, sometimes between the loosened bark and the tree, and is composed of fine soft material.

THE NUTHATCH.

(_Sitta cæsia._)

Wherever in wood or garden the Nuthatch dwells its voice is heard. It calls sometimes a flute-like “_tüüi, tüüi tüüi_”--sometimes a quick “_kwee, kwee, kwee_”--and it is always very busy. It is the only bird we have that can climb head downwards and that as quickly as it is safe. The beak is strong and pointed. It picks out of crevices and from under the bark of trees everything that is there in the way of grubs and beetles and insect eggs. In the autumn it gets at oily seeds, conceals nuts and filberts in suitable crevices and knocks them till they crack. It does the same with the gall-nuts in order to get at the maggots or chrysalis of the gall-wasp. It is an absolutely useful bird and one not uncommon with us in Hungary.

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This bird is common in most districts in the centre and south-east of England where there is old timber. In the westward it is less common. In some old parks in Yorkshire it appears again, but is rare elsewhere in the northern counties. In Scotland it is not very often seen and in Ireland it is so far unknown. Beech-mast it is fond of in our own woods, but it feeds on insects on the ground as well as in the trees. This species, like the last-mentioned, is very mouse-like in its movements and many ornithologists assert that it sleeps with the head and back downwards.

The Nuthatch is as big as a Sparrow, but more solid; above bluish-grey; underneath white or rust-red; over the eye a black stripe. The tail is not adapted for climbing. Legs short and strong, claws strong and sickle-shaped, three toes turn to the front, one to the back. The clutch consists of six or eight white eggs, speckled with rust-red. The nest is formed of a wide hole, which so walled in by the bird with earth and clay that there is only just room for it to go in and out.

THE CROSSBILL.

(_Loxia curvirostra._)

The Crossbill is a stationary bird as to habitat, but it does ramble about. Staying at home, or wandering, depends upon the supply of sap or seeds of the fir tree, which forms its sole food; although it visits also beeches, maples, and alders, sometimes even falls back on thistle-seeds, and does not even despise caterpillars. Its beak is an excellent tool for removing husks and crushing seed. It wastes a great many seeds, for it lets fall all those which it cannot shell with one bite. It reminds us of the Parrot, not only by the form of its beak, but also by the clever way in which the beak is used in addition to the legs in climbing from bough to bough, just as the Parrot does. It is besides a cheerful, indeed, a restless bird. It sings whole songs, and the old bird fancier Bechstein has put words to one of these, beginning:--

Zeri-zeri doeng-doeng-doeng--hist-hist.

Its call is _sok, sok_.

The firwoods of our Hungarian mountains contain plenty of these birds.

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These interesting birds, the Crossbills, nest in many parts north of the Solway, and southwards may be seen in September in flocks or parties, wandering about in suitable districts in search of food. In the young birds, the bill, or rather the mandibles, are not crossed, and the beautiful crimson colour in the male is not seen the first year. A greenish-orange replaces this in the

females. I saw a very fine Crossbill lately that had been obtained in the valley between Newbury and Theale, where these birds are to be found most years among the fir-clumps on the higher lying commons. It is said to breed in many of the Southern Counties, but there is no reliable evidence of its doing so in the Midlands. In Scotland it nests in districts where are old pine forests, building a cup-shaped structure of dry grass, moss, and wool, which is placed on twigs, and these on the branch of a fir, close to the stem. From fir-cones their food is extracted, but in the autumn, berries and apple pips are taken, an old name for the Crossbill being Shell-apple. Many years ago great damage was done to some apple orchards by the boring of fruit to extract the pips.

Although usually a winter visitant, the late Lord Lilford reported having seen large numbers of these birds during the month of June in a district of North Devon. The forest-folk of Thuringia are fond of them as caged pets, considering that they bring luck to the house, and also cure the diseases of the family--if the mandibles cross left to right, those of the females, if from right to left, those of the males. I would not now keep any bird in a cage, but I once kept many; and the most amusing of all these was a Crossbill, who had a large wired-off compartment to himself, between one containing a number of avadavats, and another inhabited by Redpoles, Siskins and other birds. He loved to tear open the shells of almonds to get at the nuts. When the little avadavats had gone to sleep, nestling together for warmth, the old Crossbill would sidle up, looking very wicked, and quickly lift the end of their perch. Down fell the small things, master Crossbill watching them with unmistakable delight. At last he made so much commotion amongst the lesser birds that we made a present of him to Mr. Denham Jordan, who wrote an amusing memoir of him which was headed “Crossbill Turk.”

The Crossbill is 6·5 inches in length. The back and underparts of the old male bird are red, the rump fiery red; wings and tail dark olive-brown; the back of the female is grey, rump greenish-yellow. The upper beak is curved downwards, the under one upwards, inclined to one side, with sharp points. The tips of the beaks cross, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left. This crossing of the two halves of the beak is the exclusive characteristic of this bird. It lays three to five greyish-white eggs spotted with shades of reddish-brown. The nest is found in fir trees, and sometimes in the birch. It is made of fine materials, is built very high up, and is well concealed. It nests in February. The nest therefore is very stout and well-lined, and the mother-bird sits continuously in order to preserve the warmth.