CHAPTER VII.

SOME WILDFOWL.

THE LAPWING.

(_Vanéllus vulgáris._)

The reedlands and meadow-lands, moist fields, marsh and lake districts, would be desolate and lifeless without the beautiful Lapwings. They wheel and flap, and twist, and wheel again, on the large open uplands, so that their varied plumage almost dazzles the eye, and when several pairs frequent the same field they embellish air and sky. When the nesting time arrives the whole neighbourhood resounds with the call which the bird utters while in flight. The call-note sounds like “Keevit,” from which, of course, its name is taken. The pairing note sounds like “Ka kerkhoit, kewit, kewit, kewit, kewit.” It can run well and quickly on the ground. If a dog or a crow approaches the nest it flies at it with a loud, despairing cry, “Chrait,” and strikes at the enemy with its beak; if a man shows himself it practices all kinds of cunning tricks. It flies along near the ground, repeatedly stopping, and so lures him away from the nest. The eggs of the Lapwing are much sought after. Its usual food consists of worms, the various kinds of snails, chafers, grasshoppers. In autumn it covers the fields and meadows in great flocks like a cloud, and destroys the pests of agriculture. It departs in winter. It is recommended for protection both on account of its beauty and its usefulness.

Sir Herbert Maxwell, writing last autumn, 1908, in the _Pall Mall Gazette_, after referring to another species, says: “There is another bird equally industrious in ridding the farm of insect pests and with no fruit or grain eating propensities whatever, which we allow each year to be slain in increasing numbers. Already in poulterers’ shops, not of the first class, may be seen strings of Lapwings exposed for sale, and this will continue till far on in next spring. May I make my annual protest against this mischievous traffic? Great Britain has held aloof from the Convention of Continental States formed for the protection of birds useful to agriculture. Her Government decided upon this attitude on the ground that Parliament had already effected by legislation most of the objects which the Convention has in view. But the continued slaughter of Lapwings is altogether at variance with--nay, is in direct opposition to--the main provisions of the Convention. It is true that powers have been conferred upon County Councils enabling them to prohibit the killing, capture or exposure for sale, of Lapwings or any other kind of bird at any or every season; but so long as these powers are not exercised this senseless slaughter will go on. For, unhappily, there is a ready market for the carcases of these useful birds. People whose palates are so gross as to be gratified by the flesh of carnivorous birds eat Lapwings greedily enough. Why not compel them to be content with their eggs? seeing that every Lapwing destroyed means the preservation of hundreds of noxious insects, such as leather grubs, wireworms, click-beetles, caterpillars, and such like.”

In England drainage and the improvement of waste lands have caused its numbers to diminish, still it holds its own on most of our high-lying moorlands. In Scotland it is plentiful, and is even on the increase in many of the northern districts. Unfortunately, its eggs are in great demand. In Ireland this is not the case; the eggs are not sought after as they are in England, but the birds are netted in numbers for eating.

The Lapwing is twelve inches in length. It can be immediately recognised by the long pointed crest which begins on the crown, extending backwards and being slightly curved upwards at the end, resembling a good deal a waxed military moustache. This is black, as are also the brow, throat and breast; the under parts are quite white, the rump a brilliant rust-colour; the base of the tail white; the end of the tail is adorned with a broad black border. Mantle shining, iridescent black. Legs red, eyes brown and bright; beak shaped like a thick awl. Such is the appearance of the males; the female bird and its young are much plainer in colour, and have a smaller crest. The nest is placed in the reed-beds and in shallow parts of the marshes; it is simply a scratched out hollow bedded with dry chaff. The clutch usually consists of four pear-shaped eggs, which have olive-brown spots and flecks on an olive-green ground. The young leave the nest as soon as they are hatched, sometimes even carrying part of the shell on their feathers.

THE COMMON CURLEW.

(_Numenius arquata._)

This bird takes up its residence with us in Hungary as a visitor only on its way during the long migratory journey, which extends from the northernmost parts of our hemisphere to the Nile.

Its habits are most varied, for it stays sometimes on the flat sea shore, sometimes on the border of the desert, sometimes on a rocky river-bank; with us it settles on pasture land, fallow fields, marshy flats, and lowlands. It destroys everywhere immense numbers of grasshoppers and beetles. Crickets are the food it likes best, but it also eats snails, and sometimes even frogs. It is, therefore, of great service to the farmer, more especially as it frequents and cleanses the fields in large numbers. It does not require much protection for it is an extremely shy bird, and he must be a clever marksman who can bring it down with a shot. But the sportsmen of the lowlands are even more cunning than the Curlew. At certain places they lure the birds with a decoy--a bird dried in the oven which is placed on the lake edge--and a pair of Curlews are almost certain to fall victims to the ruse.

Its call-note is audible at a considerable distance, floating pleasantly, something like a modulated human whistle: “_Klowit!_” or “_Taue taue_,” and “_Tlouid tlouid!_” Shepherds believe that when this cry is heard it foretells wind.

* * * * *

The Common Curlew is to be found in Great Britain, wherever there are sand and mud-flats, and rocks covered

with sea-weed left high and dry at ebb-tide. It is with us during the entire year, for when the old birds go inland in spring, the young birds take their place and remain for the summer. As long as the young birds remain on the moors and pastures, their food consists of berries, insects, spiders, worms, and snails, and they then become excellent for the table; but after feeding near the sea, they become unpalatable.

Its plumage, mottled, speckled, and cut up with broken tones of brown grey white and light red, makes it look like a Plover when squatted, unless its long scythe-shaped bill can be detected,--a most difficult matter when in that position. It is wary in the extreme; morning, noon, and night on the alert. That it is brought to bay at times is certainly no fault of its own, but is mainly due to its surroundings.

The Curlew is a most interesting bird, see it when you may, on some upland with the sheep, in the grass meadows, or on the shore, when huge dark storm-clouds roll in from open water, a gale blowing, and the white parts of its plumage showing like large snowflakes as the bird and its companions are driven shrieking and wailing in all directions, or in the calm, still days of early autumn.

“From a fishing smack,” says “A Son of the Marshes,” I have watched it probing for lug-worms, running nimbly or walking sedately on the mingled sand and ooze.

Curlews allow themselves to be blown, or drifted only, when waiting over some favourite feeding-ground, before the tide has sufficiently left for them to feed. I have repeatedly watched mobs of them, waiting for the tide, when a heavy gale has been blowing. The birds know that their food is just below them so they merely flap to and fro and put up with the inconvenience of being blown about. At any other time they would shoot clean through in the teeth of the gale. Only those who have seen a frightened Curlew go up or down a creek lined with shore-shooters, shrieking as it flies, can form any idea of the bird’s swiftness. I have known a bird of this kind “fly the gauntlet” for three miles, and there has been bang! bang! bang! from every shooter that it passed, good shots too. It escaped the lot without being touched. Swift flyers at all times, their ordinary speed is as nothing compared with what it is when they are frightened.”

The Curlew is 24 inches in length. It has a long scythe-shaped bill, a long neck, and long, waders’ legs. The plumage is marked with hemp-seed speckling, the specks somewhat elongated, here and there arrow-shaped. Tail white, slightly tinged with brown; every feather has brown bars. Eye brown. It does not usually nest with us, but is more a spring and autumn visitor; yet it sometimes happens that a pair of these birds build and rear their young. In its northern home it builds on the ground, on the moorlands. It lays four pear-shaped eggs, as large as those of the farmyard duck, of an olive green colour, with dark speckling.

THE COMMON REDSHANK.

(_Totanus cálidris._)

The Redshank enlivens whatever place in the reed-land or marsh it happens to nest in by its voice and its varied plumage. It is a beautiful sight when it spreads out its wings, rises into the air and stretches out its long legs. Its resounding whistle is pleasant to the ear. It runs well, wades in water, and in case of need can swim. When the young ones are hatched, anyone approaching the nest should be moved by the wailing cry which it utters in anxiety for its young, though it has a thousand ways of luring people away from the nest and of misleading them, when it takes the trouble to do so. With a plaintive cry it settles on the ground, makes all kinds of bows and curtseys, utters its flute-like note, then begins to run, as if to say, “Follow me, man!” When it has come out of the immediate neighbourhood of the nest it settles on a branch or a stake, or even attempts to perch on a telegraph wire. Then its voice becomes more plaintive even than that of the Lapwing. Even a shot does not scare it away. It moves away, disappears, but in a very short time it is back in the same place to continue its bitter lamentations; its note sounds like “_Dlue, dlue, dlue, dlue-dee-dee-deedle-dee_.”

Like all the waders of the marshlands, the Redshank is very voracious, and has an excellent stomach. It devours beetles, grasshoppers and snails with great

avidity. All for the good of plants, and of men who derive benefits out of the sedge and reed beds.

This bird is a migrant.

* * * * *

The Redshank is still to be found breeding in most of the marshy districts in England and here and there in Wales; it appears inland from the middle of March, and early in autumn it begins to resort to the coast, being joined there by numbers of migrants from the Continent. When the winter is mild, birds are to be found throughout the year, more especially in the south and west. It is abundant as far as the Shetlands in Scotland; in Ireland it is fairly plentiful during the summer, and on the bays of the west it is numerous at other times of the year, wherever there is a sufficient supply of _zostera marina_ left behind by the tide for it to feed amongst.

“Redshank, pool-snipe, teuke or toak, sandcock, red-leg, redlegged-horseman,--all these names are given to him, as well as another, which exactly expresses the main characteristic of the bird--the yelper; and he certainly does yelp. When the tide is up all is level on the flats, even the blite is covered until the tide goes down. To all appearance the blite is left dry; but this is not the case, for thousands of small pools are left at the roots of the blite shrubs. These cannot be seen, because the thick grey-green leaves cover them. Most of the fowl feed in the numerous gullies that run through this salt vegetation. Some of the smaller kinds feed in the pools under it. If any web-footed fowl are about they are sure to pitch in one or other of the gripes and gullies.”

The Common Redshank is eleven inches in length. Its plumage also has the hemp-seed speckling, but is more thickly speckled and barred. Beak long; legs long, of a bright orange-red. It is perceptibly webbed between the toes. Tail white, with dark bars. The dark wings are adorned with a white patch, the sides with pointed spots like drops. Its nest is found in wet marsh, or moorland, between the weeds and creeping stems, in little dips, and consists simply of straw litter. It lays four pear-shaped eggs, which are arranged in the nest with the points towards one another. The ground colour is clay-yellow, and they are speckled with greyish and dark-brown spots and flecks.

THE GREEN SANDPIPER.

(_Totanus óchropùs._)

The flight of the Green Sandpiper is very rapid; the note is a shrill _tui-tui-tui_. The food of the bird consists of insects chiefly, with small red worms and fresh water snails. It is not good to eat, having a disagreeable musty odour.

The Green Sandpiper is not uncommon in many parts of England and Wales, on the spring as well as on the autumnal migration. On the east side of Scotland it is fairly frequent, but in the north it is very rare. To Ireland it pays unfrequent visits, even in autumn. “The Green Sandpiper is a restless bird, for ever moving on,” says “A Son of the Marshes.” “Something impels him to constant haste.... The first time I met him, unexpectedly, was on a breezy upland common, with just enough wind blowing to carry the white clouds along without blowing them to pieces, a few sheep were wandering about, their bells tinkling. On one side of the common are a number of old blackthorns, with wisps of wool sticking on their rough stems, then comes the long high-road, and close to the road is a small pond, gravel-edged, where the cattle that graze on the common come to drink. A shrill whistle, and in front of us is a beautiful bird. He runs a short distance, his feet just in the water, picks at something, whistles, and is off, over some old beech-trees. I have examined him dead, and have seen him and his mate exquisitely set up by a naturalist and bird-stuffer, but you must see him alive to form any idea of the dashing vitality of the bird itself.”

The eggs of the Sandpiper are rarely found with us, being laid in deserted nests of Crows, Woodpigeons, Blackbirds, Jays or Thrushes, or even old squirrel dreys; although its haunts are about the peaty swamps, hill streams and ponds. Its nesting habits differ from the others of its congeners. Its cousin, the Common Sandpiper (_Totanus hypoleucus_), is also a lively creature, that goes by the name of Fidler Willy-wicket, Dicky-dy-dee, and Water-junket. Fish is sure to be in the stream about which trips the Fiddler. Its note on rising to take flight is “_Wheet! wheet!_” and its alarm cry a shary “_Giff! giff!_” At Madely, in Staffordshire, a pair of these Sandpipers hatched out their young in a vicarage garden a few summers ago, the fact being recorded by the vicar, the Rev. T. W. Daltry.

In June you may come on a hen Sandpiper, with her young, beside some moorland stream. The little ones are precocious in their ways, and run about nimbly as soon as hatched out. The young of the Green Sandpiper are not so easy to observe.

The Green Sandpiper is a little over nine inches in length. Upper parts olive brown tinged with metallic green, speckled and mottled, the lower parts white, so that when flying it looks like a black and white bird; the middle tail feathers having broad black bars, towards the end, the two outside feathers almost white. Feet greenish. The bird lays its eggs in old Squirrels’ dreys, or the nests of Mistle-and Song-Thrushes, Blackbirds, Jays, and Woodpigeons; sometimes even on the ground, or on mossy stumps, and spines heaped upon fir branches, as high up as thirty-five feet but always near to pools. The eggs are light greenish-grey, with small purplish brown spots, generally four in number.

THE NIGHT HERON.

(_Nycticorax gríseus._)

The Night Heron nests with large numbers of its congeners in inaccessible spots in the marshes where marshy tracts and broom bush are close together. In such places will be found on each tree as many nests as there is room for. The nest itself is carelessly built of a few branches laid one on another, with a final layer of dry rush and sedge leaves. It contains four or five pale green-blue eggs.

It is not so secluded in its habits as the Bittern, and is not so fond of the broad open ponds and reed beds, but prefers the marshes, especially where there are slimy puddles, alternating with broken rushes, bushes, and trees. In such places it breeds, in great colonies, and watches for its prey, which it obtains from ooze--mud fish and other small fishes, water-rats, lizards, and all kinds of large insects. When flying, it draws in its legs and head, and so scarcely looks like a Heron, but when it settles on a tree, as it often does, draws in its neck and hunches itself up, it greatly resembles a Raven, whence it is sometimes called the “Nightraven.” Also from its voice, which is like the croak of the Raven, and sounds like “_Koā_,” “_Koari_,” or “_Koay_.” Wherever the Night Heron settles it does much harm among the fish. It is not numerous in Germany; in Hungary it is still fairly common, but with the draining of the marshes the number of these birds is likely to decrease.

* * * * *

The Night Heron has been increasing in numbers in the British Islands during the last hundred years, so that it may now be ranked as an annual visitor to this country.

It is about 23 inches in length; wing 12 inches. The crown and nape are black with a green metallic lustre. Brow white, about the base of the beak. Two or three, occasionally four, snow-white feathers, pointing backwards, adorn its crown. The eye is large with a carmine-red iris; the long, pointed beak is black; the back is black with a greenish lustre; neck, wings and tail are ashen-grey. Underparts white, legs reddish-yellow. The female bird is more uniform in colour. The young are speckled, while still in the nest.

The Common Heron (_Ardea cinerea_) is well distributed throughout Great Britain. There are, as before, when this bird was used in the old Falconry days, very many colonies, although these are not so crowded with nests as they used to be. The long-legged grey fisher is one of the most interesting sights beside our streams and meres. “Judy o’ the Bog” is the name given to the Heron by the peasants in the south of Ireland. Young Herons were much in favour as table birds in the olden times. They are still eaten in some districts, but they are only good at certain seasons, if then; the flesh has mostly a very oily, fishy taste. The good this bird does in devouring water-rats, field-mice, worms and insects is counterbalanced by its depredations amongst the fish where the latter are a consideration.

Let me give here again a presentment of our Common Heron in the Marshlands of Kent. “An empty stomach has caused the Heron to leave his sanctuary in the Scotch firs that close in one end of the now frozen mere, and to come floating down to the river side. He has left bitter weather behind him, at any rate, for out in the west it is a cold steel-grey above, with a glow like that of the northern lights resting on the crests of the distant hills. For once he places caution on one side; one ring round directly over our head, and then he drops and folds his wings by the edge of a bit of water that is not frozen because it runs sharply over some shallows. The grey and white fisher has come here for his supper, knowing well that when waters are icebound, the fish will work up to any open piece of water, or even to a small hole broken through the ice, for air. They must have air; even eels, which are supposed to be able to live anyhow or anywhere.

To prevent him rising I take a wide range out in the water meadows, frozen down nearly two feet in depth; but I might just as well have been saved the trouble for a lot of rooks that have been trying to stock out a last scanty meal before roosting, from some manure heaps--that have been placed there to dress the meadow for the hay crop--come for him as one bird, and the lonely fisher is up and away again to his sanctuary in the fir trees.”[5]

THE BITTERN.

(_Botaurus stellaris._)

The bittern is a strange-looking bird which as it moves stealthily among the reed-beds, has given rise to many superstitions and weird beliefs. Yet it is nothing but a greedy, insatiable cousin of the Heron, living on small fishes, but not despising young birds, water-rats, water-beetles, frogs, and even horse-leeches as food. Its eyes at once announce that it is a night bird. On a still night its booming can be heard more than a mile and a half away; and from this the bird has received some of its local names, such as “Bumble” and “Mire-drum.” The sounds which it utters are deep, hollow roars, as though they came from some large animal; many people will not believe that these sounds proceed from a slender bird. They sound like “_Cu-prumb-cu-prumm-cu-um_.” Sometimes, though not often, a “_boo_” is added to the “_prumb_.” Learned scientific books have been written on the nature of these sounds. The truth is that they occur when the bird draws air into its feed-pipe until it is full and then expels it forcibly. In this way it produces its mating-call, the love-song of the male bird. It is not given to every bird to sing like the nightingale.

* * * * *

This deep-toned cry is rarely heard now in our British marshlands, where the bird now comes only to be shot and sent to the shop of the bird preserver. It has, of course, been getting scarcer every year. In Selby’s time it was very scarce in some seasons, yet he records the fact that in the winter of 1830 to 1831 ten bitterns were exposed for sale on one morning in Bath, and sixty were taken the same season in Yorkshire. “Butter-bumps” was the popular name for the noisy bird, which, as some said, bellowed like a bull. The late Lord Lilford wrote that he knew a lady who said that when she was first married, about the year 1845, and went to live in East Norfolk, she was constantly kept awake by the Bittern’s booming in the neighbouring marshes. Tennyson’s farmer called it the bogle.

Some of us were not sorry to hear that one of these rare visitors had been able to have its revenge on one of its persecutors lately. Being wounded only, it turned on the dog of “the man with the gun,” who could not resist shooting a stranger, and used its strong bill and claws to good purpose. Its haunts are reed-beds, and the nest is composed of dried flags and reeds. Its flesh is said to taste and look like that of the leveret, with a slight flavour of wild-fowl, and to be more bitter eating than that of the young Heron. In the North Kent marshes Bitterns were called “Yaller French Herns,” and the fen dwellers could get half a guinea for each bird. In France, of a coarse and stupid man, they often say, “C’est un vrai butor (Bittern);” Molière says, “Peste soit du gras butor;” and Georges Sand wrote, “If your provincial bourgeois heard that, they would take our daughters for ‘des butordes,’[6] such as their own are.” Voltaire speaks again of “les butorderies de cet univers.” In Saxony again the peasants say of a noisy brawler, “He booms like a Bittern.”

That a pair of Bitterns which had been observed for some little time on an estate near Hertford should have been shot lately, 1908, and that just before breeding season, is a fact to be deplored. I saw a beautiful specimen in Berkshire that had also fallen to the gun of a collector. With the advance of civilisation and the drainage of the fens we cannot, of course, expect to have Bitterns nesting in our country again; but our children will we trust, be educated, in these days of Nature-Study, to welcome rare visitors, whilst respecting their right to live. Molluscs, frogs, lizards, small snakes and insects form their diet, and these we can all spare; and we should protect a vanishing species. A nest was taken in England in 1868, but we have not had a later one recorded. A friend of the late Lord Lilford, writing to him, said: “My brother and myself, about the year 1825, shot seven Bitterns in a field.” This was at Holme Fen, near the New River. “The Son of the Marshes” says: “The Bittern is the bird of desolation, and it is in desolate places you will find him if he is about at all. All his habits are secretive ones. As a rule he comes out with the marsh owls. His plumage mimics the marsh-tangle perfectly, and the Bittern draws himself up by the side of that tangle, his dangerous bill pointing upwards in a line with the great rush stems, so that you might be within a yard of him and yet not see him. Frequently it has been the case that shooters have had these birds clutter up close to their feet.”

* * * * *

The Bittern is 28 to 30 inches in length, but its loose feathers, long neck and thin legs make it look much bigger. The arrangement and colouring of the plumage are not unlike those of the Owl; it is yellowish with brown speckles. Bill yellowish-green, but the back of it brown. The legs are also yellowish-green, and have long toes. Eyes yellow, as in many owls. The bird can draw in its neck and cover it with feathers in such a way that only its long legs betray its species as being that of the Heron. The nest stands always alone in thick reed-beds near standing water. The eggs are usually three to five in number, and are pale bluish-green in colour.

THE WATERHEN OR MOORHEN.

(_Gallinula chloropus._)

The Waterhen likes ponds surrounded by thick bushy growth and builds its nest on the edge. It clambers nimbly about the reeds, and also swims very well although not web-footed; it dives, and is able to remain some time under the water. It does this when pursued, only occasionally sticking its bill out of the water to breathe. It takes long strides when walking, and can run fast, can stand on the broad round leaves of water plants, on the water grasses, and floating rubbish, its long toes preventing it breaking through and sinking in. It is a very pleasant bird, and if left alone becomes very confident, and it is then an ornament to its surroundings. Its food consists of insects and water-wort; it also rips off the points of sprouting rushes, and the fleshy sedges. In fact it is an innocent and indeed a useful bird.

The little tail is always turned upward, both in running and swimming, and with each movement it nods its pretty head. It is a truly charming sight when the Waterhen first takes her eight or ten black, silky, roguish-eyed nestlings to the water--each one being about the size of a walnut, they bob about like so many black corks.

This bird is worthy of every protection.

* * * * *

The Moor or Waterhen is well distributed throughout the British Islands and it is, as a rule, settled in its habitat although in severe winters many migrate from the northern to the southern parts of the country.

When the sooty chicks are out, the Moorhen parents

have a very anxious time of it, for the Heron is on the look-out for them, and he does a lot of wading in the reeds and the swamps all the time the young Moorhens are about. They would be far more numerous were they not hunted for, so persistently, by furred, finned, and feathered prowlers.

The Pike is one of their worst enemies, and the youngsters are kept often in about three inches of water to escape his murderous bite.

“The Moorhen can both swim and dive, and he flies well when fairly on the wing; but as his real flights take place, as a rule, at night, very little is known about them. I once saw a flight at daybreak that very much astonished me. The bird shifts considerably about at night at times. When alarmed it is occasionally very clever in concealing itself, and it will sham death to perfection, even when caught alive by a good dog, without a feather being injured.”

The Waterhen is rather larger than the Partridge; it has longer legs, of a green colour, and much longer toes. It has a small growth on the wings like a spur. On the brow is a bare crescent-shaped red patch, the pupil of the eye is carmine; neck and the whole of the mantle dark, greenish-olive brown; the other parts of the body slate colour, the inside of the lower tail-cover being of a darker shade, with a broad yellowish white border. The feathers on the edge of the wings are tipped with white, forming a beautiful white line, to the front of the wings. The bill is green, red at the base. The nest is nearly always placed in dry sedge-bushes on the edge of the water; the dry grass serves for litter. The clutch consists of ten eggs, which have a pale yellowish red ground speckled with violet and reddish-brown.

THE COMMON TERN.

(_Sterna fluviatilis._)

This birds nests in companies, in grassy places near a river bank, where a nest, without any foundation, is made, being a flat hollow in the ground. In this it lays two or three eggs of a clay-or brownish-yellow colour, speckled with violet-grey and brown. The Tern is a real ornament to our large rivers and lakes, with its guileless nature and its fine swinging flight. If it were to disappear we should lose one of the joys and beauties of life. All day long it flies over the water, with only short intervals of rest which it takes on a gravel heap or a hurdle, with neck drawn in and pointed upwards, only turning its head now and then to look at the water. It constantly flies at the same height, and as soon as its prey comes to the surface of the water it spreads its tail stiffly downwards, and hovers, beating with its wings, and gazing fixedly on the spot where the victim showed itself. Then, suddenly, it drops like a stone, with a loud splash, into the water. It has then secured its booty, usually a small fish. Its usual voice sounds like “_Kriey_”; sometimes, when in trouble, it utters a light “_Kek_” or “_Krek_.” It is not common enough in Hungary to do much mischief.

* * * * *

In Great Britain we find the Common Tern along the shores of the Channel and up the West coast as far as the Isle of Skye, and again from the Moray Firth down to Kent. In Ireland it is plentiful in the South. “Three species at least of the beautiful terns, well within my own time, bred freely in this country; but their colonies on the flats and the foreshores have been harried for eggs and birds so persistently, season after season, that they have ceased to exist as breeding places. A few hatch out in lonely shingle runs here and there on the coast lines; others have changed their breeding grounds for good. The ring-dotterels have suffered in the same way, but, from their different nesting habits nothing like so much as the terns have done. When dogs are trained for egg hunting, and the capture of young birds alive, without hurting them, is it to be wondered at if the poor birds shift elsewhere? The size of a place has nothing to do with its nesting capacities; if the conditions are favourable, there the birds will come in their seasons to settle down. If they are not interfered with they will come again, until at last you may count on their arrival almost to a day. One place I frequently visit, where the birds, water-fowl and waders have been protected for forty years, not by keepers or lookers, but by the people that pass that way, because the owner of a fine sheet of water desired that they might not be frightened. This is as it should be, yet for all that they are wild birds pure and simple, free to come and go just as they please, according as their inclinations move them.”[7]

The Common Tern is 14·25 inches in length but its long wings and tail make it appear larger. The legs are red, the feet webbed. Beak red with a sharp point; crown and nape quite black; mantle a fine bluish grey. Throat and breast beautifully white; wing feathers darkish. Tail forked like that of the House Swallow. The longest, outer side feathers, which form the fork, are dark grey, the other tail feathers, and the rump white. The eye reddish-brown.

THE BEAN GOOSE.

(_Anser ségetum._)

The Bean Goose visits us only in winter, for it breeds in the most northern portion of our hemisphere, whence it is driven to our milder regions by the extreme cold of winter. Here it waits for spring, then it hurries back to its breeding place on the coasts of the Northern Ocean. It lays seven to ten white eggs in its simply-formed nest in the inhospitable desolate land of its birth. When obliged to leave the nest it carefully covers up the eggs in order to preserve their warmth.

These birds move southwards in great flocks towards autumn. Some of them come to us, and in many places cover the fields in swarms, and in the case of their settling constantly in the same places, they may do considerable harm by nibbling, tearing up and trampling over everywhere generally.

When the winter is very severe here, and the seeds are covered with a thick layer of snow, Geese go still further south, some of them even crossing the Mediterranean; but they return directly the weather becomes milder. From this comes the shepherd’s prophecy: “When the geese go south we may expect great cold; when they go north warmer weather is coming.” The birds assemble in great flocks,--usually at the beginning of March, if wind and weather are favourable--and return to their home, where, separating into strings, they scatter themselves over the Polar regions.

* * * * *

This is the “Wild-goose” as known to shore shooters. It does not breed in our islands at all, but comes to us in

the autumn, and is to be seen in numbers on some of our coasts all through the winter. In cold weather it is fairly common on the mainland of Scotland. From autumn to spring it is found in all parts of Ireland, and is the commonest of the inland feeding Geese.

“Very awkward mistakes, and sad ones too some of them, have been made sometimes when these birds have been feeding on the saltings and marshes close to the tide, for at certain seasons the Geese will feed at night and then is the time to go after them. On one occasion a fowler shot his horse by mistake, and at another time a man shot his own son. Such incidents were once only too common. Fowl, feeding at night, bunch themselves up, taking strange shapes, and when alarmed they run before flighting, but they are not very wary, nor have they the keen sight of other wild fowl.”

“Gabble-retchet” is the term applied to the cry of the Geese on flight. An old proverb says: “Its aye fine when the Goose honks (or cries) high.” This in the Eastern States of America has been corrupted into: “It’s aye fine when the goose _hangs_ high,” and is often taken as meaning when there’s plenty in the larder.

This Goose is 34 inches in length. The beak is black, the knob of it being orange-coloured, as is also a broad oblique stripe on the nostrils. The points of the wings when folded extend over the tail. The prevailing colour is brownish-grey; the edges of the feathers and the breast lighter. The flight feathers are dark brown, so are the eyes, legs reddish-brown.

THE WILD DUCK OR MALLARD.

(_Anas bóscas._)

The nest of the Mallard is placed in the sedges of the marsh, in cornfields, and--strangely enough--on willow stumps and in large holes in trees. It is carelessly put together, but is lined with soft downy feathers. It lays ten or twelve strong yellowish-white eggs.

The way in which a mother Duck, who has nested in a tree hole rather high up, brings her young family to the water is remarkable. As soon as they are dry after hatching, she carries them one by one in her bill down to the water’s edge. Each duckling as it is set down remains motionless as a stone on the ground, until the mother has brought the last baby to join the others, then the whole family begins to cackle and pipe, the young ones follow their mother into the water, swimming at once, and their duck life begins its ordinary course.

Their usual diet consists of water plants, duckweed, sundew, the green parts of the water-nut and the seeds of water grasses. They let the water flow, filtering through their beaks as beseems a well brought up duck, and in this way allow many little water creatures, fish spawn and such like, to enter their crops. But they can also do mischief. At harvest time the duck visits the cut corn lying on the ground and the sheaves, picks out the corn and treads down the ears. Therefore--and also because it is so good for the table--it is worthy of a well-aimed shot.

It is still very common in Hungary.

* * * * *

“Mallards manifest bird chivalry and courtesy to perfection--the drakes industriously finding mussels for their sober-coloured mates, not because these are not able to find for themselves but because the males consider it their place to do so. Stretching out their necks and ruffling all their feathers they softly call when they have a lucky find; up rushes the duck, nips fast hold of the gaper and swings it from side to side as a terrier shakes a rat: after wrenching it from the shell she washes it in the water of the runnel and swallows it.

It is a matter of serious regret to many a sportsman and one entailing loss to the longshore shooter that the numbers of our common Wild Ducks or Mallards are each year becoming less. But for those bred in the Arctic regions--those the North Kent marshman calls “foreign flighters,” we should be in a bad way as to the Wild Duck.

The latter arrive in great numbers from the Continent during the colder months. Drainage of the fens, and improvements in agriculture have, of course, lessened the numbers of those that breed with us; but flapper-shooting on the flats and the want of protection are decimating them largely on the Essex and North Kent marsh-lands. All good authorities on the subject agree that there ought to be a close time for our Wild Duck up to the 1st of September, whereas in Essex protection extends only to August 16th, and in Kent only till the 13th of that month. In shooting the Flappers, or young birds, many an old Drake gets killed; having lost his quills he is incapable of flight. He does not put on his full new dress until the middle of October. Flappers are easily killed as they reach full growth before their wings are fledged; so that it is not really fair sport, which should give a free field. As old Peter Hawker, the father of Wild Duck Shooting said, flapper-shooting is often more like hunting water-rats than shooting birds. They haunt deep and retired parts of a brook, or stream, in families. Flappers are only called Wild Ducks when they take wing.

In the Fens formerly, until put a stop to by Act of Parliament, not only were Flappers shot as they are now, but an annual driving of the young birds before they could fly took place. A vast tract was beaten, and the birds were forced into a net placed where the sport was to terminate. A hundred and fifty dozens have been taken at once in this fashion. If our handsome British Wild Duck is to be preserved to us, further steps must now be taken to enforce and extend the close time for our home-bred birds of this species.

Both duck and drake are the size of the domestic duck, which is a near relation of its wild congener. It is the loudest cackler of the ponds. The drake has splendid plumage. The whole of the head has a fine green metallic lustre, this being separated from the rest of the colouring by a white band round the neck. A small bunch of feathers, curled upwards, stands on the rump, which is smooth black, as is also the under tail cover. It has a beautiful, lustrous violet patch bordered on each side with white, on its wings. Neck and breast are chestnut-brown; the mantle finely and beautifully spotted. The underparts light grey, each feather having fine dark stripes. Bill greenish; legs orange. The female bird is yellowish-brown speckled with dark brown.

THE PINTAILED DUCK.

(_Dafila acuta._)

The nest of the Pintail is placed among the sedges, rushes, and reeds of open ponds. The clutch consists of eight to ten greenish eggs, which are smaller and somewhat thicker than those of the common Wild Duck. It is a shy bird, difficult to surprise, which arrives here in large flocks, on its way elsewhere, only a few settling on large inaccessible ponds, or on the hidden pools hemmed in by huge reed beds, on the Platten See in Hungary, especially in shallow places where the white water-lilies and other water plants almost cover the surface with their leaves. In such places it pecks about the ground in the same way as the farmyard duck. Its food is tender duck-weed, and the young juicy shoots and points of water plants. But its most eager search is for water beetles, and the larvæ of dragon-flies and other such insects. As the marshes are drained and brought into cultivation the number of these beautiful birds decreases. It is still, however, not uncommon in Hungary.

* * * * *

This is a slender and finely shaped duck which is locally called the “Sea Pheasant.” It comes regularly to our British Islands in October, staying in some districts longer than in others. In the North it seldom tarries long. Its favourite resorts are about our Southern shores and estuaries. When it is feeding the tail is raised high above the water, its head being below the surface. A hybrid between the Mallard and the Pintail, a half-bred drake, is a very handsome bird. Pintails have also been known to pair with Wigeons.

The Pintailed Duck is smaller and more slender, but longer than the Common Wild Duck. The middle tail-feathers are long-shaped like a spit or awl, and from these the bird derives its name. The neck is long and thin like that of the Heron. The drake has fine summer plumage. The wings have a shining metallic green beauty-spot bordered with red in front and white behind. Head a dusky-brown, cheeks copper colour. Throat white on either side, and black in the middle from the back of the head downwards. The whole of the underparts white, also the mantle, which is adorned with fine, close, dark wavy lines. The long pointed shoulder feathers are black with a white border. Tail nearly black, the middle pointed feathers quite black, and also the under tail cover. Legs bluish-grey; beak bluish, eyes brown. The female bird is like the female wild duck in colour but has the long tail feathers.

THE SHOVELER.

(_Spatula clypeata._)

The Shoveler has a stately, direct, and rapid flight. It can be recognised by its great beak even when flying high. It is less timid than the other ducks, and does not go about in flocks, but if it does join flocks of other ducks, it flies somewhat apart from them. As its beak indicates, its food consists less of plants than of small living creatures of the pond and lake, fish, insects, shell-fish, and other things which it finds in the water while it paddles around and lets the water run through the filtering edge of its beak. But the worst of it is this: The fish spawn in the shallow, tepid water near the bank, and there the young fishes are hatched. When the Shoveler comes to a spawning bed, in its voracity it destroys the young fish in thousands, before they are fully hatched. Thus it is a great pest to fishermen, and it is therefore fortunate that this bird belongs to the rarer species.

* * * * *

“Compared with the size of the Shoveler’s paddles, its webs are small. Splashes and reed-beds are what it delights in. Many days have I passed where these birds could be seen. All sorts of flying and creeping things lived there; in fact the amount of insect life to be found in the haunts of the Shoveler would have to be seen, nay more than that, it would have to be felt, before it could be thoroughly believed in. Some sorts of insects have a very short play-time. Coming forth in clouds as perfect flying creatures, they fulfil the purpose they were created for, and then they drop down in the reeds,

or in the water either dead or dying. So thickly at times do these short-lived insects cover the water that, in places, the masses look like large patches of grey film.

This is the time for the Shoveler. He and his mate, will, so to speak, lay their heads and necks on the water, the lower mandible being just under water; and they will paddle along feeding as they go. These insects are part of their food in the season. Then too, they can probe and spatter on the edge of the reeds, where they find plenty of food, for the soft mud at their roots is full of the seeds of water plants growing below. As to the undeveloped forms of insect life, the light vegetable mud is full of these. So this handsome bird goes on his way very happily if not disturbed.”[8]

Shovelers are plump ducks, and when their food is right are excellent for the table.

The Shoveler visits Great Britain during cold weather, and a fair number of the birds stay and breed with us.

The Shoveler is smaller than the Wild Duck and is more thick-set in build. Its chief characteristic is its powerful spoon-shaped, or rather shovel-shaped bill, which broadens out in front, and is furnished with a thickly toothed, comb-like arrangement on the inner edge which is specially adapted for filtering the water. The drake has beautiful plumage. The beauty spot on the wings is of a lustrous green, and has a white upper border, the wing itself is light blue. The sides of the head are bluish-green, with a fine lustre, the crop white. The forepart of the mantle is greenish-black, each feather having a white border; rump bluish--black as is also the under tail cover. Shoulder feathers pointed, black and white, legs orange, bill dark. The female bird resembles the female wild duck in colour, but the broad shovel-shaped bill, immediately marks the difference between the two birds. The nest is placed in the boggy parts of the marshes and is formed simply of litter. The clutch consists of seven to fourteen rusty yellow eggs.

THE GREAT CRESTED GREBE.

(_Podicipes cristatus._)

The nest of the Great Crested Grebe is built of various decaying plants, and floats on the water. It is not found in the thick reed-beds; but on their borders, where the reeds are already beginning to shoot. There it so fixed to a single stalk that it remains in one place, and cannot be washed away. It usually contains four longish white eggs, which, however, become brown and dirty during the long sitting and rotten surroundings. The young birds are grey with dark stripes. In times of danger the mother gathers them closely under her wings and then dives until the peril is past.

This Grebe is a remarkable diver; it dives with such lightning speed, that a shot aimed at it only strikes the surface of the water. It is a terror in the fishpond. When the fish feel secure, several of these birds join together and make a raid on them. They dive, and while under water drive the fish towards the shallow shore, and having thus placed them in a difficulty, the birds seize their prey from among the bewildered victims.

The Grebe endeavours to avoid danger to itself by diving, as long as it can--and it is able to remain under water for a long time and swim a considerable distance. If the rushes for which it is making, are still at some distance, it raises its head out of water for a moment, breathes once, and dives again. It is only in direst

need that it takes to flight, and beats the water for some time before it begins to rise. Having once risen it flies rapidly and steadily.

Its powerful, piercing voice has various sounds. The call-note sounds like “_Kekekeke_”; during the brooding time its cry “_Kroar_” or “_Kruor_” is heard at a long distance.

* * * * *

The Great Crested Grebe is resident in Great Britain on many sheets of water where reeds grow in plenty, such as the Broads of Norfolk, the meres of Cheshire and Lancashire, lakes in Wales, and very occasionally only in Scotland. In the County of Stafford the Great-crested Grebe and Little Grebe, or Dabchick, are protected all the year round; and the meres in the West of Staffordshire, together with those of Shropshire, form one of the chief breeding areas of the former species of Great Britain and Ireland. On Trentham Lake, Dr. McAldowie has observed the Great-crested Grebe in mid-winter. They have also bred there of late years. On the rivers Dove and Trent, however, it has only been seen during the periods of migration. That it nests on the Lake Aqualate and on that in Trentham Park proves what the protection of landowners will do.

The Great Crested Grebe is the size of a Wild Duck but more slender. The general appearance of the bird, with its long outstretched thin neck is that of a long-necked bottle. It has on its black crown a double crest, forked and inclining backwards something in the manner of ears; on its neck, beginning at the back of the head and reaching to the throat, it has a red collar of split feathers with dark borders closely set together, which surrounds the sides of the head and the throat. The legs are constructed for propelling by a sideways stroke; instead of a true web, it has divided, cross-ribbed broad flaps on the toes, the pads of which are flat and broad. Beak sharp and pointed as a dagger; tail consists of a few little ragged feathers. The spot on the wings is white. The female has a smaller collar, and is more uniform in colour.

AN ELEGY.

Our children will perhaps know less than we do of the delightful poems of Robert Burns, composed as so many of them were whilst he followed the plough, with ever a keen eye for bird and blossom wherever his work might lead him. I cannot resist quoting here that wonderful elegy of his:--

“Mourn, ye wee songsters of the wood; Ye Grouse that crap the heather bud; Ye Curlews, calling thro’ a clud; Ye whistling Plover, And mourn, ye whirring Paitrick broo’, He’s gane for ever!

Mourn, sooty Coots and speckled Teals; Ye fisher Herons, watching eels; Ye Duck and Drake, wi’ airy wheels, Circling the lake. Ye Bitterns, till the quagmire reels, Rair for his sake!

Mourn, clam’ring Crakes at close of day ’Mang fields o’ flow’ring clover gay, And when ye wing your annual way Frae our cauld shore, Tell the far warlds, wha lies in clay Wham we deplore.

Ye Howlets frae your ivy bow’r In some old tree or eldritch tow’r, What time the moon wi’ silent glow’r, Sets up her horn: Wail through the dreary midnight hour Till waukrife morn!”