CHAPTER VI.

WORKERS ALL THE YEAR ROUND.

THE HOUSE SPARROW.

(_Passer domesticus._)

This is among birds what the street-boy is in the towns--merry, audacious, obtrusive and quarrelsome, always moving and picking up what it can. A human habitation without Sparrows is inconceivable. In the street it rummages in the tracks of the horses; in the markets, it sees when the stall-keeper is dozing, and helps itself out of her basket to anything that takes its fancy.

When the wheat ears are soft it betakes itself to the fields and fills its stomach and also feeds its young with their milky juice; when the corn is ripe he attacks it and knocks more grains out of the ears than it can possibly eat. It does the same with cherries, mulberries, and all kinds of seeds. It also breaks off young buds and the points of young shoots.

It drags the Titmice out of their nest-holes and establishes itself there. It presence is easy to recognise by the straws sticking out of the hole. The only method of preventing this is to make the entrance-hole narrower and to hang the nest-hole lower down.

It is true that when there is a great abundance of cockchafers it consumes a great quantity of these creatures; but as soon as it finds something it likes better, and is easily obtained, he leaves the destructive chafers to others. The most useful service it does is in severe snowy winters, when, in company with a large number of other Sparrows, it scours the fields and picks up the seeds of noxious weeds; besides this it feeds its young with insects. It should not be suffered to increase too much, for it does on the whole considerable mischief. The humane way of lessening its numbers, as we have before pointed out, is to pull down the nest wherever we can.

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A word for our English Sparrows. E. Newman, F.Z.S., says: “A Sparrow-hawk left to himself, even by scaring the Sparrow from ripe grain, will save the wages of at least ten boys.” And the head gardener of a large garden which was protected with a network of black cotton only, said: “Nobody knows what good a Sparrow does in a garden. In fields it eats charlock, chickweed, plaintain, buttercup, knot-grass,” etc. When the hay lies in swathes in the fields it haunts them in quest of what are called “haychaffers”; craneflies, earwigs, blight, etc., are part of its prey. “They have been known,” writes Curtis of Sparrows in “Farm Insects,” “to gorge themselves with the larvæ of the May-bug till they were unable to fly.” A French writer says: “Under one Sparrow’s nest the rejected wing-cases of cockchafers were picked up; they numbered over 1,400. Thus one pair had destroyed more than 700 insects to feed one brood.” Much of the harm attributed to Sparrows is the work of a small Weevil, which is very destructive to many kitchen-garden plants. Mr. Joseph Nunn of Royston, a farmer, writing of the Sparrow during 1897, says that Sparrows do not eat more corn from the stacks than other Finches or the Buntings, and that a farmer must learn how to protect his property the same as any other tradesman.

As to its colour, we may say that its crown is grey with chestnut stripes, throat black--that is, the male bird. The throat of the female is whitish, and there are whitish lines on the head and over the eyes. Beak strong, wedge-shaped, pointed. The whole bird suggests strength. It lays five or six eggs, which are white, thickly speckled with dark marks. The nest is composed of straw, wood, tow, hair and feathers carelessly put together, still it is soft and warm. This bird breeds twice a year, sometimes three times.

THE TREE SPARROW.

(_Passer Montanus._)

The habits of this Sparrow vary from those of the house species in that it dwells among fields and foothills where wood and thicket alternate. It also frequents gardens, and behaves very audaciously. In hollow places in old trees it is sure to be met with. It is a bold builder, and will place its nest with us in Hungary under the Eagle’s eyrie, or the Stork’s nest. It may generally be said to be a hole-nester, and a much greater insect eater than its congener the House Sparrow.

Its manner of nesting makes it all the more dangerous to the artificial nest-holes, and we cannot guard them against this species, either by decreasing the size of the entrance or by placing the nest-holes lower; it drags the Tits out and takes possession of the hole; the only thing that can be done is to drive it away with small shot; otherwise we should harbour Tree Sparrows instead of Tits, and, although they are not as numerous as the House Sparrow the supply of them is more than enough.

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The Tree Sparrow is also rarer with us in Great Britain than its ubiquitous relative. It is quite local as to habitat. Until quite recently it was unknown in Ireland. Large numbers arrive, however, in autumn along the east coast, and its settlements in Scotland are chiefly on the eastern side, up as far as Sutherland. Its nest with us will be found at times at some distance from human dwellings; in the soft rotten wood of trees often, but it builds also about farm-buildings, beneath roof-tilings and in cliffs by the sea. The eggs are more glossy than the House Sparrow’s; two and even three broods will be reared in a season. The young are fed on caterpillars and other insects, soft vegetable matter, etc., but in winter both young and old frequent farmyards, and visit the ricks; also they seek grain among horse-droppings in the streets. The illustration shows the difference in the markings of the two species of Sparrow.

This bird is smaller than the House Sparrow, and more slender. The colouring is, on the whole, the same in the male and female birds. From crown to tail it is chestnut brown, passing into ash-grey, with dark markings round the ears and on the throat. Both in colour and demeanour it is a true Sparrow. It lays five or six, occasionally seven, light-coloured speckled eggs.

THE HEDGE SPARROW.

(_Accentor modularis._)

This is no vulgar little city arab, picking about in untidy stables, in the refuse on the streets, and among the droppings of horses. Does not its Latin name rather proclaim it one of the aristocrats of bird life. Its dress may be dull-coloured, but its form and its motions are not inelegant, despite its familiar name of “Shufflewings” and “Smokie,” in deference to its characteristic motion and its colouring. Head and nape are a bluish-grey, streaked with brown, back and wings are a reddish-brown, streaked blackish; the lower wing-coverts are tipped with clayish colour, in bar-fashion, underparts a dull white; the sides are marked with dark streaks on a pale reddish-brown ground; the bill brown, the base being of a lighter shade; the legs and feet are yellow brown. Length 5.5 inches. The slate-grey on the head and throat is not seen on the young birds, which are browner and more spotted than the adults. This is a friendly bird and very easily tamed, so that it will often bring its mate to the kitchen door for food in winter, and its song is more melodious than many of our singers. The nest is built of moss, bits of stick, roots, and dry grass, in all kinds of hedges, or roadside thickets. The eggs, four to six, greenish-blue without spots and rough in texture. Many bird-lovers refuse to call this bird by the plebian name of Sparrow, with them it is always the Hedge Accentor.

The food of this bird mainly consists of caterpillars, eggs of insects, wood-lice, earwigs, chrysalids, small seeds of weeds, house-refuse, etc.

THE SKYLARK.

(_Alauda arvensis._)

It can raise a tuft on its head at will. A long, slightly hooked claw is on the back toe. The nest is placed on the ground, more rarely among corn or meadow grass, but rather on fallow ground or clover field, among low thick growth; it assimilates so closely with its surroundings that it is difficult to discover. It usually contains five eggs, which, being of a dingy, grey-green speckled with a darker colour, also somewhat resemble the colour of the earth.

This Lark occurs most numerously in the northern regions, and as regards its habits is one of the best known and most popular of birds. It arrives in Hungary early in the spring, settles down, and does not allow any other bird to approach it, pecking them away if possible. Its little territory often occupies only a hundred paces. The different territories are contiguous, and disputes between the neighbours are perpetually going on. The combatants may constantly be seen, darting here and there with lightning speed, flying near the ground, in pursuit of one another. During the pairing and brooding-time the male bird sings unweariedly, flinging his song into the air. He rises towards the sky, with vibrating wings, higher and higher, dropping his ever-changing trilling notes,--often rising to such a height that he disappears from sight and the song dies away. Then suddenly he reappears, becomes silent, and drops like a stone to earth.

In his poem “In Winter,” Johann Arány says of the Lark:--

“Like the poor poet, Who in the sun’s bright rays spreads out his wing And bears towards heaven his song: he turns and falls, And he is silent.”

The Lark lives partly on seeds, but its chief food is gathered from the insect world. It is almost universally considered by epicures a great delicacy, and is snared by thousands. Fortunately it exists in great numbers, but its snaring is to be deprecated.

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In England larks have been very largely eaten, but happily the practice is now most strongly opposed by thoughtful people. If the consumption of Larks in our country went on as it was doing a few years ago the species would soon be extinct. Yet this singer--whom poets have delighted to honour and one--possibly because of its alert ways and its sentinel-like attitude--which Julius Cæsar chose as an emblem for one of his famous legions,--devours wireworms, grubs and various larvæ when these lie hidden in the short winter pastures, and just at the stage when the latter are most greedy of nourishment, so that the grass would suffer incredibly but for the bird’s work. A recent authority stated that it was to be deplored that not a tenth part of the Skylarks that formerly frequented the Midland pastures were there now. Unfortunately this bird is a favourite among those who are given to the caging of singing birds.

This bird is bigger and more slender than the Sparrow, and the colouring generally of the upper parts is a warm yellowish-brown. It is distinguished from its congener, the Woodlark, by its tail feathers. The two outermost feathers are white, growing darker only about the shaft. The outer web of the second feather is white. The tail feathers have dark-brown centres and tawny edges.

THE KINGFISHER.

(_Alcedo ispida._)

The Kingfisher is the arch-enemy of the fish, and it is hardly credible that this relatively small bird, should gulp down, as it does, fish as long as your finger, in order to fill his stomach. It digests very quickly, and spits out the bones, scales, and fins. It watches, from a bough, for the little fish. Where a bush bending over the water undisturbed by the eddy forms a calm mirror,--there does this resplendent fish-poacher settle itself on an overhanging bough, to watch--motionless and with incredible tenacity--the water and the living things beneath it. If a trout or other small fish, feeling quite safe, comes to the surface, the Kingfisher drops on it like a piece of lead; it grasps its prey with its sharp beak, and, shaking the water from its plumage, flies back to its perch, gulps down its delicate morsel, and sets itself again to watch. Its colour protects the bird when diving. The underparts are much the same colour as a fallen leaf, and this arouses no suspicion in the fish--the back, on the other hand, shines like the blue shimmer of the running stream, and that often protects the bird from the circling Sparrow-hawk. If it comes to a flat shore on the side of a small stream, which offers no overhanging perching place, it settles on a stake or a clod of earth, and now and then hovers over the water, and flutters like a hawk. It is an inconstant bird. It appears, and disappears from a district, and then, perhaps after some years, presents itself again. Its flight is rapid, and it raises its cry, as it goes, “_teet_.”

It does harm, but is scarce in Hungary.

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In Great Britain it was also becoming scarce, but of late years Bird Protection and the ever increasing number of bird-lovers has been in favour of this beautiful ornament of streams and meadows. It is, however, often shot because its feathers are of value for dressing artificial flies. Personally I could not call a bird hurtful because it seeks the food which its Creator _intended_ it to eat, which is no more the property of man when it is taken in its natural conditions than it is that of the bird, and I confess I would rather see the brilliant blue of the Kingfisher flash up a meadow stream than the angler’s figure there with his rod.

The Kingfisher is seven and a half inches long, a short thick set bird, with short tail and straight pointed beak, which sticks out like a lath nail. The colouring of its plumage, which, in its flight, sparkles like precious gems, makes it one of the marvels of nature. Crown, neck, mantle, and rump are of an exquisite brilliant blue; a cinnamon brown stripe passes over the eye, growing lighter as it extends over the side of the neck. Eyes brown, throat white, underparts a brilliant rust-red, legs red, rather short, the toes slightly joined at the root. It nests on the banks of rivers and streams, boring in the bank, on a level just above the surface of the water a tunnel a yard long, which it enlarges at the end into a cauldron-shaped cavity. It does not build a nest here, but lays its round white eggs on rejected fish-bones. The eggs number six or seven.

THE DIPPER.

(_Cinclus aquaticus._)

The Dipper’s habits are most interesting. The bird frequents the most picturesque streams, perching on the dry boulders, with the water gurgling and splashing about him. From this he dives and walks under the water, turns over the small pebbles and returns to his stone. This led to his being suspected of being an enemy to the fisherman. It has, however, be proved by the inspection of the contents of the stomachs of several Dippers that only insect remains and small shell-fish were eaten. The fact that he will attach himself to brooks which contain no fish at all, proves that he does not feed on these. The bird’s plumage is simply watertight, and therefore admirably adapted to a bird which can swim as well as dive.

The song of the Dipper is strong and cheery; and the lively ways of this Water-ouzel, as it often called, lend a charm to our mountain streams. With us in Hungary a thorough investigation of the life-habits of this bird, which spread over a considerable period, and involved much correspondence, has resulted in the complete vindication of this bird’s character.

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Mr. Herman’s verdict on the Dipper and the Kingfisher, are the more valuable because he is the great authority, in his own country, in all that relates to pisciculture. The Dipper remains with us all the year round, especially in the Peak District in Derbyshire, and the hill-streams of North Staffordshire. It is, however, found in the British Islands, wherever there are rapid rivers or stony brooks and streams. All the Highland burns and rivers have a few pairs. In Ireland, too, it is resident in the mountainous districts, but it forsakes these often, at the approach of winter, for the mouths of tidal rivers and the salt flats of the seashore. In the valley of the Dove it remains about the stream all through the winter. The birds are clever in contriving to make so heavy a nest cling to the wall of rock or stone, where it is placed. It cocks up its short tail very much as a Wren does, and dips its head in a way, which has gained for it the quaint local name of “Betty Dowker.” As it feeds much on the larvae of the May-fly and bank-fly, and others which are destructive to the salmon spawning beds, it must be of good service to the fisher. The young birds are able to swim as soon as they leave the nest, and to chase the water insects, using both legs and wings in pursuit. The wings serve as oars. The song of the bird is begun in autumn, and it will often be heard all through the winter, but always in early spring, and fully fledged young have been found by the twenty-first of March.

This is a thick-set but charming bird a little over six inches in length. Head and nape are umber-brown, tail and wing-feathers dark brown; chin, throat, and upper breast white, passing off into chestnut-brown, dark-grey and black on the belly; bill brownish-black, legs and feet brown; upper parts mottled with dark grey and brown. The beak is awl-shaped, and the sharp toes on the strong feet are long and well divided. The nest is generally placed close to a running stream, preferably near to, and even behind some little waterfall. It is a large oval ball of leaves, grass, and moss, lined with dry grass and dead leaves. The entrance is low down in the side. From four to six eggs are laid, which are glossy white at first, but become dull as the bird sits. Two broods are reared in a season.

THE THRUSH.

(_Turdus musicus._)

This bird is the same size as a Blackbird. The upper side is olive-brown; throat and under parts whitish; breast rusty-yellow with dark heart-shaped spots and flecks. A light eye-brow stripe runs over the eye. The under side of the wing is rusty-yellow; beak and legs brownish-yellow. Its nest is very remarkable. It builds by preference in trees with dense foliage, at a medium height, and employs stalks, grass, and small twigs well woven together, the crevices being filled with moss. There is nothing remarkable in this, for there are many better woven nests; but the cup of the nest is a work of art. It is wide, and deep, having inside a strong layer finely cemented and smoothed, about the thickness of the back of a table knife. This is composed of pulverised atoms of decayed wood, which the Thrush mixes with its sticky saliva, and kneads into a paste, with its beak. It lays five or six eggs of a vitriol-green colour, with very fine spots.

The Thrush is a fine strong bird, and moves firmly and skilfully among the branches. When on the ground it holds its head and beak well up; always alert. When it sees its prey it springs on it at once with lowered head, seizes it and tears it to pieces with its beak. On mossy grounds it is very skilful in turning over tufts of moss, in order to reach the insects which crawl about underneath. It also catches grasshoppers, and in the late summer and autumn attacks the wild berries.

It has many enemies. The Jay is the worst plunderer of its nest; but it has recently been ascertained that the Squirrel also sucks the eggs.

Its song is beautiful, flooding the woods far and near, with its rich fluty tones. It sings from the highest branches of trees, sitting quietly meanwhile, as if itself steeped in the dreamy rapture of its own performance.

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The Song Thrush in Scotland is called the Mavis. This is strange as it is the Redwing which is known in France under the name of _Mauvis_. The song of the Blackbird is often confused with that of the Thrush; yet that of the latter is a very distinctive one, because in the middle of a strain of song there is the repetition of its three chief notes. You will seem to hear it saying “Pretty dear, pretty dear,” or “Wait a bit, wait a bit.”

We must own that the Thrush is a very active thief, although it does feed much on insects, worms, and snails. It is absolutely necessary to protect one’s fruit against this depredator.

Shakespeare speaks of the “throstle with his note so true,” and Clare wrote

“And thrushes too ’gan clear their throats, And get by heart some two ’r three notes Of their intended summer song.”

But Browning still more finely enters into the spirit of this bird’s song:--

“That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never can recapture The first, fine, careless rapture!”

THE BLACKBIRD.

(_Turdus merula._)

This is a lively, cheery bird, an ornament to the thickets and clearings of the woods. Just before the evening twilight, in company with others of the Thrush family, it seeks the clearings and openings of the woods, and delights the eye of the beholder, by its hopping here and there, its darting and hunting--busily dragging worms out of the ground and attacking all the mischievous Chafer family. Then it flies on to the summit of a bush or an over-spreading bough, and its powerful, pure flute-like song resounds through the wood, and makes the listener forget all else. In autumn it eats the berries, sometimes fruit; but being very timid it is easily driven off. It is a useful bird and a pleasure to eye and ear.

This is the bird which is so often taken from the nest and reared. The male bird fetches a good price in Hungary, for it learns to whistle tunes--even from street-organs. Because it learns so easily, it sometimes happens, that in the middle of a beautiful tune which it has been taught, some most excruciating sound is heard, reminiscent of an ungreased cart-wheel. In Germany the Blackbird has become a town-bird; and people spread dried ant-eggs, chopped meat, and maggots, and make a nest for it near their vine-covered windows. It stays there also during the winter.

And what about the East? Why are children ever brought up in such a way that they seize a stone directly they see a Blackbird?

In February our English Blackbird will be thinking of mating. We are all familiar with the usual nesting-site which is chosen--evergreen, thick bushes, and hedgerows--but it has been known to build successfully and to lay its eggs, in the heart of what is known as the thousand-headed cabbage. The young of the early broods sometimes help the parents to feed the young of the second brood of the season.

The Blackbird is commoner in the South than the Thrush, and is as a rule more popular with the country people than the latter bird. Gardeners look upon it as a terrible thief, but the good it does in feeding on moths, beetles, other insects and larvæ, caterpillars, cockchafer grubs, quite counterbalances the harm it does in taking fruit. A well-known Zoologist says, “Short-sighted agriculturists kill the Blackbirds that, at the rate of sixty an hour, destroy their worst foes, or working as they do from early dawn to dusk six hundred in the course of a single day, which, given ten Blackbirds, raises the total of vermin put out of the way to six thousand per diem, against which a few dozens of strawberries should count as the dust in the balance. But the horticulturist sees the Blackbirds pick a raspberry now and again, and he does not see the same bird kill a dozen or two of grubs or snails for each morsel of fruit he may help himself to.” Another, a Fruit-grower, says that during one hard winter when some of his fruit trees were killed, and in some places the Thrush tribe were all but annihilated, snails were a scourge in the following summer, and gooseberry bushes were stripped by caterpillars innumerable. This is the testimony of the late Joseph Witherspoon, a well-known fruit grower. He goes on to say, “When gardens are surrounded by woods, it is only by a liberal use of nets that any reasonable portion of fruit can be saved, as swarms of Blackbirds and Thrushes will eat every fruit as it ripens. I provide nesting-places, and thus have my birds so near my caterpillars, and so far from house morsels that they eat the pest greedily; but fruit crops being thereby secured, we must next draw on our ingenuity to prevent the birds taking more than their fair tithe.”

In winter Blackbirds feed principally on snails, the shells of which they break by raising them in the bill and dashing them against a hard stone, just as Thrushes do. But for these birds, we should be quite unable to save our gardens from the wholesale ravages of those enemies to plant life.

The Blackbird, of course, belongs to the Thrush family, and its relatives the Fieldfare, the Redwing, and the Mistle Thrush all have the same habits of feeding. They all devour snails, slugs, worms, and insects, and in the autumn take wild berries. The Fieldfares are only with us in winter, and they seek their food over the fields and pasture lands in mild weather, and eat the berries when frost comes, and snow covers the ground. The Redwing is a delicate bird, and often comes to grief in our country during a hard winter. The Mistle Thrush is with us all the year, and its food consists, not of mistletoe as used to be supposed, but of the berries of the yew, holly, mountain ash, hawthorn, etc., worms, snails, and insects, and, it must be confessed, of a little fruit occasionally.

The male bird is pure black, the eyes bordered with a fine golden yellow. The beak is also of this colour. Legs blackish. The female is dark-brown, chin whitish, breast a shabby brown with dark spots, beak and legs brown. The male does not attain his brilliant blackness until his third year. It builds its nest in bushes and thick foliage, where it is well hidden. It is composed chiefly of moss, fine twigs, and tufts of hair; and is strong and durable. The clutch consists of four to six eggs of pale green, speckled with pale rust-red and violet.

THE ORIOLE.

(_Oriolus galbula._)

This bird is noisy in the spring and the early summer, its voice, which is full and deep like the note of the reed-pipe, fills the edge of the woods and the great gardens. “Next to the call of the Cuckoo, the flute-like note of the Oriole most enlivens the early summer woods and so contributes to the perfect harmony of a sunny spring-tide day; ‘_deelee-adid-leen_,’ or ‘_ditleo, deega, ditleeo_’ it sounds, always clear and joyous out of the bushy treetops.” In Hungary, it endeavours to lure away boys from too close proximity to the nest, by the cry, “_kell-cy dió, fiu?_” which means “Boys do you want some nuts?”

Except at the fruit season, the Oriole is a very useful bird, and there is no kind of caterpillar that it will not pick up. In seasons when there are a great many cockchafers, it carries on a perfect war of extermination on these unhappy creatures. It is unfortunately true, however, that when the summer fruit is ripe--it departs for warmer regions before autumn--it troubles itself little about chafers, but turns its attention to cherries, apricots, morellas, and early pears. Still the good it does in destroying insects, is much greater than the harm it does otherwise, and therefore we will be indulgent to it. Besides, its lovely colour is a delight to the eye.

* * * * *

This Oriole comes annually to Cornwall and the Scilly Isles, but can only be called a visitor to our country, although nests have been found occasionally in some counties, especially in Kent. It is not unfrequently noticed in the Southern and Eastern counties of England.

Unfortunately collectors cannot resist adding this beautifully plumaged bird to their lists. I have watched it myself in Southern Germany and Hungary. It is not at all shy, and one of the most beautiful things in bird-life I have ever seen was a number of Orioles flitting from tree to tree in an orchard situated amongst vineyards on the hilly banks of the Danube in Baranya. The black on the wing-coverts and tail-feathers is in striking contrast with the golden-yellow of the greater part of the plumage. The male has a very flute-like call, hence its French name of Loriot. The female is a devoted mother. Where these birds have been protected on private estates in our country they have reared broods successfully; it would surely add to the beauty of our rural landscapes, if they were encouraged and protected.

The Oriole is rather larger than the Thrush. The male is a beautiful golden-yellow; wings and tail black except the end of the tail which is yellow. A black stripe passes across the eyes from the base of the beak; the beak is a reddish flesh colour, the eye blood-red. In the female and the young, all the parts which in the male are golden-yellow are greenish, the underparts a greyish-white with darker stripes. The nest is quite a work of art. It is always placed in the base of a fork of a branch, and is fastened to the bough with fine root fibre and bast; it is lined with any fine soft material, even cob-webs are sometimes found in it. The clutch usually consists of five eggs, which are white with a few very prominent dark specks. It also nests in gardens.

THE ROBIN.

(_Eríthacus rubécula._)

The Robin is one of the cleverest courtiers. It alights on the ground, alternately appears and vanishes for a few moments, then suddenly stands still, makes a low bow, droops its wings, raises its tail, then looks up at one with shining eyes, full of confidence, as if to say: “I trust you.” It hunts beetles with great energy, and does not even recoil before the slug, still less before a small earthworm, which the lordly hedge-sparrow would not touch for all the world.

Sometimes it flies on to a high branch, keeping quite still, except that now and then it makes a bow and raises its tail; then all at once it flies to the ground, pounces on the awaited booty, returns to its bough and devours its prey. Its song is beautiful, exquisite, rivalling, but not excelling, that of the Lark. The bird sits quietly and sings, and is in no hurry to cease. Its cry is a light piercing “_see_.”

It is a bird which may be said to become tame almost immediately when caught. It likes to move at liberty about a room. Poor people with us like to keep it, for it catches the flies in the room, the spiders in the corners or even on the bed; or any other moving thing. This bonny bird deserves every protection.

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The ways of the “cheery little Ruddock,” as Shakespeare calls him, are so well known that it is not necessary

to add much more to Mr. Herman’s graphic description. Perhaps it is not known to all our readers, however, that a great number of Robins migrate to our country every autumn from the Continent, whilst some of our home-bred birds leave our shores. As a rule the red on the breast of the former is brighter than with those bred here. There are, however, as we know, individual birds which will attach themselves to a home where they have been treated kindly, for a number of successive winters, entering the open window and feeding with the children.

The Robin has three different styles of song, one the gay, joyous outpouring which delights us on sunny days, then the autumnal dirge, which proclaims the approach of cold stormy days, and is often uttered just before it leaves us for warmer quarters; and again, the long drawn-out cries, notes of distress, when some prowling cat or other enemy approaches its nest.

Robins, as we all know, devour great quantities of worms and insects. It is a most valuable species to the gardener and fruit grower, for, except under the stress of thirst, it lives only on animal food.

The Robin needs little description. The whole of the upper side, including the back of the head and crown, is olive brown, the under-parts dingy white; throat, breast, and brow a beautiful rose-red with us,--in some districts more chestnut-red,--whence the bird is called the Redbreast. There are plainly discernable oblique stripes of a lighter shade on the wings. Eyes dark brown and large; legs dark and strong; beak finely pointed; plumage fine, soft, and loose. The nest is always placed low down, in the thickest bushes, in hollow trees, holes, and crevices. It is well and delicately built; the outer covering consists of dry leaves, the inner of thickly woven moss, rootlets, hair, and feathers. It is difficult to find. The eggs usually number five, occasionally seven; they are of a yellowish olive-brown speckled with rust colour, the speckling being closer in a ring round the thicker end. Two or even three broods are produced in the year.

“The Robin and the Wren Are God Almighty’s cock and hen. Him that harries their nest, Never shall his soul have rest.”

Grahame sang--

“Dearer the redbreast’s note, That mourns the fading year in Scotia’s vales, Than Philomel’s where spring is ever new; More dear the redbreast’s sober suit, So like the withered leaflet, than the glare Of gaudy wings that make the Iris dim.”

THE WREN.

(_Troglodytes párvulus._)

The Wren is certainly the most lively of little birds. With its confiding nature, especially in winter, it approaches close to men, and with lightning speed dashes into the openings and gaps in the wood stack. It is visible only for a moment at a time, and, with its little upright tail, its nodding and see-sawing, its appearing and disappearing, its popping in and out, it disposes even the most morose persons to cheerfulness. It slips through the prickliest bunch of blackthorn like the nimblest mouse, and has scarcely vanished on one side, before it appears on the other, shoots about like an arrow and is quickly lost in the neighbouring hedge. It does not fly far. If it finds itself in difficulties in the open, it slips into a mouse-hole. It feeds on the tiniest, and most hidden insects. It finds the smallest spiders, caterpillars, chrysalises, and grubs, which it wants, with skill and inexhaustible energy. It is found both in summer and winter with us.

This little bird has also its song, which is louder than might be expected, suggesting somewhat that of the Canary. A listener to whom it is not known, is astonished if he happens to discover the tiny vocalist. It sings always in an open place. Its cry is “_Zrr’s Zezerr_.”

A Lancashire naturalist writes of “the irrepressible vitality of the Wrens which prompts them to fling a song in the face of winter whenever they get a chance.” A chiding, chattering song it is; flung out also in advance of the intruding footsteps that disturb the

privacy of the hedge-row at the foot of which the bold, pert little creatures are seeking their food. In old nests in the thatch and holes in the walls, they find warmth and shelter during the winter, a little batch of them together. They are supposed to build special nests, “cocks’ nests,” they are called. A Staffordshire acquaintance tells how, being curious as to the number sleeping in one of these which he had previously noted in a grotto in his grounds, he and gardener surprised them one night by the light of a lanthorn, and no fewer than six Wrens fluttered out of the nest.

Another friend who was fishing near Brambridge, in Hampshire, tells me that he knows one such nest under the thatch of an under-keeper’s cottage, and he has seen five or six enter this in the early twilight of a winter evening. On two different occasions, when a dogcart sent to the keeper’s cottage at which he puts up, was waiting for him to drive to his day’s fishing, a Wren settled on the back of the standing horse, near the cottage door, and remained there for a few minutes, as though enjoying the warmth coming through the creature’s coat.

In Ireland every Wren that can be seen is hunted down and killed on St. Stephen’s Day; and a Surrey man tells me that up to twenty-five years ago he has witnessed the same persecution in the home counties. Tradition says that it is due in Ireland to the fact of a party of Wrens hopping over a drum’s head, and thereby disturbing a sentinel, when a party of Irish were on the point of surprising their enemies.

Shakespeare writes of “the Wren with little quill,” in Bottom’s song of birds; and again, in “Cymbeline,” Imogen says, “if there be yet left in Heaven as small a drop of pity as a Wren’s eye.” The comparisons drawn by old-fashioned country folk are often very quaint. I remember an old lady who, if she were asked to take more of some dish at table, often said, “Just a bit the size of a bee’s knee,” to the great edification of us youngsters. The song of the Wren is always the same: a few separate notes, a trill, a rattle and a trill, while its call-note has been likened to the clicking of a watch while it is being wound up. There is no more winsome picture of bird-life than this tiny creature dotting about, with little tail erect and fan-like, in quest of its insect food among the dry bramble leaves, so vivacious in its movements that no camera could ever do it justice.

The Wren is almost the smallest of European birds. There is not much to be said about the colouring of its feathers, which are the brown of the tree trunks, with beautiful thick oblique stripes of a darker shade. The colour is lighter over the eyes, on throat and breast. The tail feathers are especially fine, and thickly striped. The beak is slightly depressed, fine and sharp as a needle; the brown legs relatively strong. The nest is placed under the cover of felled boughs, between roots, in secluded corners of abandoned huts, which it can slip into. The nest is comparatively large, with a spacious entrance, and consists of a foundation of leaves and fine twigs, within which is a layer of moss, and again within that a mass of smooth, finely broken feathers. The clutch is six, sometimes, but rarely, eight small white eggs, with fine blood-red speckles.

THE HAWFINCH.

(_Coccothraustes vulgaris._)

This is not a true migrant, for it is only in severe winters that it seeks a warmer climate. In autumn it comes from the hills, down into the plain, to the neighbourhood of human habitations, where it leads a restless life. It is timid, and easily startled; while flying it utters its shrill cry “_seu, seu, seu_.” The striking bulk of its beak indicates the strength it has to use in obtaining its food; and it is so, for the kernels of the hardest cherry stones are its favourite dainty.

It flies in small flocks, and when these light on a cherry tree, they are quite quiet, not a sound is heard, except the cracking of the hard shells by the strong bills, which are specially formed for the work. The cherry stone lies in the lower mandible, the upper one being ribbed and so perfectly adapted for cracking the stone. This bird breaks with ease a fruit stone, which a full-grown man can only crush with the heavy pressure of his boot heel. Towards spring, when there are no more fruit stones to be found, it attacks and destroys the young leaf buds.

This bird is not very commonly found in Hungary.

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The number of Hawfinches has been steadily increasing in England of late years. This is probably due to Bird Protection, which is so much more enforced than it used to be. The young are fed chiefly on caterpillars, but unfortunately they soon take to eating peas, which brings them into bad repute with gardeners, and numbers of young birds are shot and buried in gardens where peas are grown. It is pleasant, on the other hand, to watch them amongst the wild plums and sloes and crab-trees in one of our old hedgerows, but is not an easy matter as they are so suspicious. In districts where many peas are grown for the market, these birds are a perfect plague. In Germany this bird is called Kernbeisser (kernel biter) because of the ease with which it cracks cherry stones with its powerful bill. With us it eats the seeds of the horn-beam and other trees, beechmast, haws, etc.

Only one brood is raised in a season, but if the first nest is meddled with, another one is made.

In “Within an Hour of London Town” the writer interviews a gardener on the subject of Hawfinches. We give it here as it stands.

“What do I want with the gun? Hawfinches; they hawfinches in my peas!” he grunts.

As he leaves the tool-house I quietly follow, and place myself with him behind a low faggot-stack which stands in a line with the peas.

“Jest hear ’em! ain’t it cruel!” he whispers. “I hope the whole roost of ’em may git in a lump so that I ken blow ’em to rags an’ tatters. If you didn’t know what it was you’d think some old cow was grindin’ up them peas. Ain’t they scrunchin’ of ’em! All right now, I ken see you, you grindin’ varmints! Now for it!” Bang!

Three birds fall--young ones in their first plumage, which has a strong likeness to that of a greenfinch.

After picking the birds up, we examine the pea-rows. There is no doubt as to the mischief the birds have done. The old fellow’s own expression, “grinding up,” is the best to convey any idea of the destruction that has taken place. Where the birds have been, nothing remains but the stringy portion of the pods of his precious “Marrer fats.”

There is enormous power in the bill of the Hawfinch, when the size of the bird is considered. The pea-pod is simply run through the bill, and the contents are squeezed out in a state of green pulp and swallowed.

“Varmints I call ’em, an’ nothin’ else,” is the remark my old friend makes, as he goes towards the tool-house and takes from a shelf a hen Hawfinch and two young ones, the former probably the mother of some of the birds that are about, if not, indeed, of the whole brood, her plumage showing that she has been sitting.

“People wants me to git ’em full-feathered old birds for stuffin’, but bless ye, ye might as well try to ketch weasels asleep. A cock Hawfinch is about one o’ the most artful customers as I knows on. The only time to get a clip at ’em is in winter, under the plum and damson trees. They gits there after the stones, any amount o’ stones lays jest under the ground, an’ they picks ’em out an’ cracks them easy. I gits plenty o’ young ones when peas are about--the old ones lets ’em come, but they take precious good care they don’t come off the tops o’ the trees themselves afore they knows there ain’t nobody about. Some says they’re scarce birds. I knows they ain’t--leastways not when my peas are ready to gather.”

The Hawfinch is seven inches in length and has a thick head, short tail, and very strong bill. Crown and cheeks cinnamon brown, neck greyish, mantle chestnut. There is a black patch on the throat, the base of the bill, and the eye, and a white patch on the wing. The tail is white in the middle and darker at the sides, the underparts are greyish with a tinge of violet. The middle wing feathers are serrated in wavy curves, and look as if clipt with scissors, the bill is exceptionally strong, very thick at the base, and sharp at the point. It lays four to six eggs of a pale green colour slightly speckled. The nest is well-built and is placed in fruit trees, and in open spaces in the woods, at a height of from six feet upwards.

The moral of the story of the gardener and the Hawfinch is that the gardener must protect his peas.

THE CHAFFINCH.

(_Fringilla coelebs._)

The Chaffinch is a useful bird, and is also an ornament to the woods and gardens, not only by its lovely plumage, its friendliness, and its movements, but especially by its clear voice which rings like a silver bell. Its call-note is “_fink-fink_,” and it has a short, cheery little song. Through the whole laying and brooding season it is busy with the destructive grubs and insects, especially the little caterpillars and tiny beetles which destroy the buds on the trees. When the seeds are ripe it lives entirely on them, but almost exclusively on those which it is able to pick up from the ground. It is true that when a considerable number of these birds visit a vegetable garden they do a great deal of harm, but this is outweighed by the good they do.

In very severe winters, it comes either in flocks or small parties with other starving companions--Yellow-Hammers, Siskins, Crested Larks, and Sparrows--into the villages, and even towns, and picks over the heaps of street refuse and gutter sweepings.

It is still common with us in Hungary.

* * * * *

This Chaffinch is one of our common British species in winter, although in some seasons their numbers are unaccountably smaller than in others. It was called cœlebs, or bachelor, because of a partial separation of the sexes which takes place during the winter. Large flocks arrive from the Continent at that season on our East coast, whilst others come from the North of our islands to spread themselves inland. Unfortunately the

Chaffinch is the favourite bird in the shops of the Seven Dials in London, and before the Bird Protection Acts came into force, many a country lane has been cleared of Chaffinches to the great disgust of many of the residents in the neighbourhood.

In Germany this is called the Buchfink--Beechfinch--because of its fondness for beech woods. In the Thurigen Forest they have come to our table like Sparrows for crumbs. It frequents our suburban gardens.

The Chaffinch is a delightful bird in garden and wood. The full-grown male has a broad white stripe and a smaller yellow stripe on the wings; the two outer feathers of the tail are large, with white wedge-shaped spots, which give the bird in flight a very variegated appearance. Crown and neck are bluish-grey; brow black; cheeks and under parts brownish-red; wings and tail black, except the white spots. The female and young are more plainly coloured; otherwise, like the male. Its nest is built among the high tree-tops, sometimes quite in the open, and is made of tufts of hair, moss, root-fibres, wool, and hair, very skilfully constructed. It lays five or six eggs with dark dots and fine markings, but occasionally of a uniform colour.

THE BULLFINCH.

(_Pyrrhula europœa._)

The Bullfinch lives in summer in the mountains, and descends in late autumn to the plains, where it meets its far bigger relatives who come to us for the winter from the Far North, and joins company with them in wood and grove and garden, even in the immediate neighbourhood of dwellings. When the sunshine glistens on frost and snow, and these splendidly coloured birds settle on a dry bough, the scene presents a lovely winter landscape the impression of which is heightened by its melancholy subdued cry, “_deeu_,” or “_beut, beut_.” In captivity it learns to sing tunes. It is easily caught, for it is incautious.

In winter it visits plants, choosing the young wild vines, buds, seeds of all kinds, berries including those of the alder, and the wayfaring tree; it does not attack weeds. In very severe winters, when starving, it will also do mischief among the buds of the fruit-trees.

It is frequently seen in winter.

* * * * *

The Bullfinch has been causing much dissension in and near an East Anglian district where I have lately been staying. A net had been placed over the gooseberry bushes to protect the blossom, and much indignation was caused early one morning by the sight of three lusty Bullfinches within the meshes, and a quantity of promising blossom on the ground. “There would be no gooseberries whatever, this season; it was positively unbearable; sentiment was utterly misplaced.” The three birds were caught by the hand within the net, two were put in a cage in the stable, and one was exposed in a small cage on the top of the garden wall to attract others to the like fate. The gardeners were inexorable. Madame was irritated by the sight of the rifled twigs. “And all last Sunday was spent, by the wife and me,” said the gardener, “shying stones at the rascals among the trees in our own garden.” The next day a market-gardener shot no less than six Bullfinches on his grounds.

As a rule, my friends on this estate, are extremely good to birds, and they attract them by placing breeding boxes, and supplying food in winter; but these sturdy rascals find no quarter. I pleaded hard for them, but, I fear, without result. The gooseberry blossom was certainly nearly all destroyed, but it was in a quest for the destructive larvæ of the winter moths, which make their appearance in the early spring and eat the not yet expanded buds. A fruit grower has stated that he allowed the Bullfinches to eat as much as they pleased; the crop of fruit has usually been as good as if the birds had not done any disbudding, and when, by a rare chance, the trees had borne no fruit at all, he knew it was because the trees required clearing, and the next year the crop would be all the finer. In some cases the tree appears to be entirely disbudded, and still fruit has appeared.

It is only for a short period that the Bullfinches visit the fruit trees. During the rest of the year they eat the seeds of harmful weeds--dock, thistle, groundsel, plantain; and one authority states that a single Bullfinch has been known to devour 238 seeds of the common spear-thistle in twenty minutes! A writer in the Journal of the Royal Agricultural Society say that he has seen “a small party of these birds eagerly devouring the seeds of the large sow-thistle.” A little fruit more or less in a season, in one’s own domain, is a small matter in comparison with the vast amount of noxious weeds destroyed on our fields.

* * * * *

The Bullfinch is an ornament in a garden. Crown, wings, and tail are shining black, and the same colour surrounds the bill; mantle a beautiful ashen-grey, rump and under tail cover snow white, breast and under-parts a fine red. In the female the under-part is ashen-grey. Bill short but very thick, at the end curved and hooked. The clutch is composed of five green eggs with purple and grey speckles. It nests in the fir woods of the mountains, at a height of about six yards; the nest is made of thin twigs and is lined with hair.

* * * * *

The Goldfinch (_Carduélis élegans_) is so well known in Great Britain that it requires little description. Unhappily for the “Proud Tailor,” as he is called in the Midlands, he has always been a favourite cage-bird, and on the South Downs Goldfinches have been captured in thousands at the times of migration, to be miserably caged in dozens for the bird dealers.

They are birds which found their food on the waste lands where large thistles used to grow, and with the improvement of these waste lands the thistles have gone, and the Goldfinches with them. Increased Bird Protection is, however, causing more Goldfinches to breed amongst us, which is a good thing for agriculture, this bird’s food consisting, as it does, of the seeds of the thistle, knap-weed, groundsel, dock, and other plants. The Goldfinch is considered to be one of the most useful of all our birds, feeding, as it does, on the seeds of noxious plants of which there is a succession all the year round. It ought to be encouraged in orchards, where it feeds its young on small caterpillars, and destroys great numbers of other insects for them.

Its relative, the Greenfinch (_Ligurinus chlóris_), a common and well-known species everywhere, is not quite so valuable a bird to the agriculturist as the above species. It is well known that it steals much swede and turnip seed, still it devours quantities of the seeds of such weeds as dandelion, corn marigold, charlock, wild vetch, etc., and the parents capture immense quantities of moths, flies, caterpillars, and other pests for their young.

THE YELLOW HAMMER.

(_Emberiza citrinella._)

This is a pretty, cheerful, friendly bird, that lives in gardens, thickets, or the outer part of the woods. Its chief distinguishing characteristic is that it loves to associate with other kinds of birds, especially the Fieldfares, with which it is most intimate. During the brooding time and before the seeds are ripe it lives chiefly on grubs and insects, being particularly fond of the smooth caterpillars, which the other birds do not much relish. It also likes seeds, and rather the floury than the oily ones. In winter it flies about the fields with other birds, and destroys the seed of the runners, and the weeds that shoot up through the snow--and is thus doubly of use to the farmer.

In a severe winter it comes with other feathered visitors into the inhabited districts. At the weekly market it appears with Finches, Crested Larks, and Sparrows, and picks up the oats and other grain which are lying about, showing little timidity in doing so. It has a dipping flight. It enlivens the country-side in spring and summer with its song.

It is very numerous with us in Hungary.

* * * * *

This bird is resident and common in most parts of Great Britain. From morning till evening it sings the same song all through the spring and summer; it has been transcribed as “Little bit of bread and no che-eese.” The form and hardness of its bill, proclaims the bird to be a grain eater, and of course it will pick up a great deal of corn, where it is to be found, yet both

old and young birds live upon insects largely, as well as the seeds of baneful weeds, and it has been estimated with us that the good it does far outweighs any harm which the farmer suffers through it.

The Yellow Bunting, well known under its universal name of Yellow Hammer, says “A Son of the Marshes,” “is a very handsome bird and a very common one. The plumage is splashed with rich yellows, warm red-browns and darker streaks; this is his nesting suit. In winter the colouring is not quite so gay. Where farms or farm-buildings show, you will be sure to find Yellow Hammers round about them. Stand just inside the stable, after the horses have left it in the morning for their work in the fields, and look at the birds gathered round the open door, all busily picking up the grains of oats that have fallen from the nose-bags. A fine mid-April morning suits the bird to perfection, for he droops his wings, spreads his tail out, and glides here and there pecking up as he goes, in the most dainty manner. Then, for a time, he visits the trees.

The lowering of the wings, until they almost touch the ground, and the spreading out of the tail, is a peculiar trait seen more or less in the whole of the Bunting family.

Trees and fields are necessary to the well-being of the Yellow-Hammer, which may be considered one of the farmer’s friends; for at certain seasons he, as well as others of his family, live in the fields, only leaving them to rest, or roost in the trees that surround them. Innocent as the creature is in all its ways and means of living, superstition has linked its name with evil. I have been assured, in the most solemn manner, that the badger, the toad, and the Yellow Hammer are all in league with the Prince of Darkness.”

The Cirl Bunting, often called the French Yellow Hammer, which is distinguished from the commoner bird by the dark throat gorget, is more numerous at times than it is supposed to be. In fact it is becoming fairly common as a resident species.

The Yellow Hammer is the size of a Sparrow but longer and more elegant. Throat, underparts, and crown of the full-grown male, golden-yellow; mantle rust-red merging into green. The bill is peculiar, the lower half is compressed, and the upper half is so formed that it is adapted for shelling seeds. Its well built nest is placed low down among the bushes. It lays five eggs which have dark markings on a light ground.

THE TURTLE DOVE.

(_Turtur communis._)

The Turtle Dove has a pretty, dainty walk, an uncommonly rapid flight, and is altogether a beautiful pleasant cleanly bird. The pairs are devoted to each other. Their cooing, “_turr, turr_,” is pleasing, gentle, and rich. It is a harmonious sound which makes a soothing impression on the mind. It is no wonder that, from its whole nature, the Turtle Dove has been chosen as the symbol of faithful love. Popular sentiment is shown in the widespread belief, that if his mate is taken from him, the male bird dies of grief--or that in sorrow for his loss he never again sits on a green bough. The Turtle Dove loves the border of a wood, or the trees, and rows of poplars that skirt a corn-field. It likes to be near clear water to which the birds come in flocks to drink. Its food consists almost entirely of seeds, chiefly those of weeds. That is why this bird is so useful to the farmer. It does, indeed, sometimes take toll of the grains, in the corn-field, when they have not been properly covered by the harrow. Then, indeed, the Doves so fill their crops, that bare places do not fail to appear on the ground. But this bad behaviour lasts only for a short time; besides it is not very bad, for they eat chiefly the superfluous grains. It is quite different with regard to the seeds of weeds, which they destroy the whole summer through in great quantities. A student of bird-lore once opened the crop of a Dove in midsummer, and found in it 1942 seeds, of which all but one were the seeds of the poisonous willow-leaved wolfs-milk--the one exception being also the seed of a noxious

weed. There can be no doubt that this bird does more good than harm--and we will, therefore, encourage and protect it.

It is still common in Hungary.

* * * * *

It is common in some parts of England, but is very local in its visitations and is only a summer visitor. A “Son of the Marshes,” says, “It is common enough in some parts of Surrey. I have seen from ten to thirty of them rise from the standing oats, or from the long grass in the hayfield, at one flight. One of my friends shot a couple as they were rising from the oats, and opened their crops. Not a single grain of oat did he find in them. They were full of a little vetch that grew abundantly at the roots of the oats, or, to express it in true rustic agricultural phrase, ‘at the stam o’ the whuts.’ I was with the man at the time; after that examination of the birds’ crops he declared he would never shoot another pigeon.”

Another member of this family, the beautiful Ring Dove or Wood Pigeon (_Colúmba palumbus_), called Queest in Ireland, and Cushat in the North, because of its soft notes, is a bird that we could ill-spare from our woods and coppices. It is, however, an undeniable fact that the members of this voracious species have increased of late years in a manner which is alarming to the hard-working farmer. Many writers have taken up the cudgels in defence of these birds on account mainly of the amount of noxious weeds, wild mustard seed, and leaves they devour, but, as that great naturalist, the late Lord Lilford, wrote, in sending me a little box of the contents of the crops of three birds extracted by himself: “In a highly-farmed country these weeds hardly exist; and,” he added, “in my opinion his good deeds are in no way comparable to the damage done. I have frequently, when shooting Wood Pigeons in the winter months, seen their crops burst on coming down dead from a height, from distension with hearts, acorns, barley, and turnip-tops.” The contents of the three birds’ crops sent to me were 129 peas, 85 beans, and some broken vegetable matter.

The amount of good or of harm done by this species varies, as in the case of other birds, according to the weather and the scarcity or plenty of their natural food about the woods and the lands skirting these. Considering the numbers that breed in our midst the farmers might well thin these, and send a better supply of birds to the market.

* * * * *

The Turtle Dove is smaller than the Pigeon, slenderer, and it has a more stately form. Crown and brow are a beautiful grey, cheeks and ear parts flushed with rust colour. On each side of the neck it has an ornament of black and white dots arranged in rows. The mantle is ashen-grey with dark specks which have a reddish border. The rump is ashen-grey with a shade of rust colour. Throat and breast reddish, melting into violet; the under-parts are white. The wings are black, shaded with slate colour; tail slate colour; four, at least, of the tail feathers have white tips. Beak black, the irides fiery red; legs blood-red. The young birds are of soberer colour. The nest is placed in thickets and is well hidden. It is composed of little branches and twigs, very lightly put together--indeed so loose and open is it, that the eggs and the sitting hen can be seen through it. It lays two white eggs.