Part 2

The food of adult Cuckoos is insectivorous, and consists largely of hairy caterpillars such as those of the Drinker Moth.

The Cuckoo sings upon the wing, and sometimes keeps up its vocal efforts all night long. It has been asserted that only the male cries “Cuckoo,” but this is not the fact, as females have been shot in the act of singing.

On the Yenisei its cry is “Hoo-hoo.”

Gilbert White, in his delightful “Natural History of Selborne,” says that some Cuckoos sing in D, some in D sharp, and some in C, and that the two former whilst performing together make a very disagreeable duet.

The notes of the bird are easily imitated by the human voice, and in the springtime I often amuse my friends by calling individuals into their gardens.

=THE ROBIN.=

I love Robin Redbreast above all other birds. He is a bold, handsome fellow, and one of the sweetest songsters of the grove. When the Nightingale and the Blackcap have gone to their winter quarters in the faraway sunny South, and both the Thrush and the Skylark are silent, courageous Redbreast mounts to the topmost branch of some sodden, leafless tree and defiantly pours out his sweet, silvery notes.

Poets of all ages have noticed this peculiar characteristic, and one of them has expressed it very happily in the following lines:

“Each woodland pipe is mute Save when the Redbreast mourns the falling leafs; Now plaintively, in interrupted trills, He sings the dirge of the departing year.”

There can be no doubt that the conditions under which the bird sings help to rivet our attention upon its performance, just in the same way that the Nightingale gains some of its popularity by singing at night time when other woodland vocalists are silent, and the Skylark by soaring away up in the blue vault of heaven whilst pouring out its far-sounding music.

Cock Robin has received a great deal of poetic attention, and it is amusing to note how differently the bards have expressed themselves in regard to this familiar bird “that swells its little breast so full of song.” Some of them say it warbles, others it whistles, tootles, carols, chirps, sings, sobs, mourns, and so on.

Any boy or girl who has wandered through the woods in winter will at once recognise the truth and beauty of the following lines from Cowper’s “Winter’s Walk at Noon”:

“No noise is here, or none that hinders thought; The Redbreast warbles still, but is content With slender notes and more than half suppressed; Pleased with his solitude, and flitting light From spray to spray where’er he rests, he shakes From many a twig the pendent drops of ice, That tinkle in the wither’d leaves below. Stillness accompanied with sounds so soft Charms more than silence.”

Numbers of beautiful legends have been woven round the bird. For instance, its ruddy breast is supposed to be worn in memory of the day when Jesus was led forth from Jerusalem to be crucified, and the wee bird perched upon the Cross and “tried with all its little might to diminish the anguish of the crown of thorns.”

It was an old and popular belief that Robins covered over the bodies of dead men with leaves, hence John Webster’s ballad:

“Call for the Robin Redbreast and the Wren,[1] Since o’er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men”;

and the well-known one, “Babes in the Wood.”

Although Cock Robin is at all times a bold bird in defence of his rights, and at some seasons liable to be considered quarrelsome and spiteful, he undoubtedly has his good points. For instance, one has been known lovingly and diligently to feed his mate after she had sustained some injury to her bill which rendered her unable to peck for herself, and I have myself watched and even photographed a Redbreast in the charitable act of feeding a family of young Thrushes in the nest whilst their mother was away searching for very difficult-to-find food during a cold, dry spring morning.

Male Robins differ from the females only in the facts that they are slightly larger and have rather brighter orange-red breasts. These differences, however, are so very trifling that it is by no means easy for even the practised eye to notice them.

Robins commence to breed in March, and make their nests of bits of dead grass, leaves, and moss, with an inner lining of hair. At the beginning of the season building operations are conducted in quite a leisurely way, occupying as much as a fortnight, but later on no time is lost, and nests are made in a much shorter period.

Last spring I watched a female, quite unaided by her mate, who was singing very loudly morning, noon, and night in my garden, build a nest in three days. One morning she carried dead leaves and moss to her home five times in five minutes!

Although generally selecting holes in banks and walls where a brick or a stone has fallen out, this species is famed for its apparent love of odd situations in which to breed. I have found Robins’ nests in old tin cans, tea-pots, coffee-pots, kettles, jam-jars, biscuit boxes, cocoanut husks, fragments of bottles, and clock cases, and have seen them in bookcases and other places inside the much-used rooms of dwelling-houses.

Robins lay five or six eggs, as a rule, although as many as seven, and even eight, are occasionally found in one nest. They are white or light grey, blotched and freckled with dull light red. Sometimes the markings join each other nearly all over the shell, and at others they are collected round the larger end.

Young Robins, when they grow their first coats of feathers, do not have red breasts like their parents, but are dressed in varying shades of brown that render them very difficult to see when sitting still, amongst the lights and shades of a hedgerow. Directly they have donned their second coats of feathers, which happens in July and August, and become like their parents in appearance, they commence to try to sing. It is said that when they have been bred near Nightingales they borrow notes from that sweet-voiced bird, and introduce them into their own songs. I can readily believe this, because I have heard a Redbreast imitate the song of a Sedge Warbler so well that I was completely deceived until I saw the vocalist.

It is unnecessary to describe a Robin’s song, because almost everyone has an opportunity of hearing it, and seeing the bird at the same time. Its call and alarm notes, however, are frequently uttered when the creature is not visible. The former is a rapidly repeated metallic sounding _tit-tit-tit_, and the latter a plaintive, long-drawn _chee_, generally uttered when some intruder is near the nest.

The species feeds principally upon insects, and is especially fond of spiders, which are sought for in the cracks of old walls, mossy banks, and on the bark of trees. All boys and girls who have read “Pilgrim’s Progress” will remember how Mercy wondered and Christiana was disappointed to learn that Robins fed upon spiders instead of breadcrumbs, and the lesson Interpreter drew from it.

Robins differ individually in character almost as much as human beings. I have been vigorously attacked by a courageous mother bird of this species because I dared to look at her young ones in the nest. On the other hand, some individuals are quite timid and shy, and will quickly put a safe distance between themselves and the most harmless intruder.

Occasionally one meets with a Redbreast living a bachelor or old maid existence at some secluded farmhouse high up amongst the hills or on some lonely treeless island round our coast.

I have a male member of the species in my garden that always superintends my digging operations, and varies his search for upturned grubs by standing on a clod within a few inches of my spade and singing me the sweetest of little songs. May he long live to do so!

[1] During the middle ages it was a generally accepted belief that Jenny Wren was Cock Robin’s mate, and curiously enough, many people still think that Wrens are female Robins. Of course such is not at all the case, as the birds belong to widely different species.

=THE BLACKBIRD.=

Who does not know and love the Blackbird with his sable coat, orange bill, and peculiar habit of erecting his tail when he alights? In the North of England the bird still enjoys its old name of Ouzel, and in Scotland it is called a Merle.

The hen differs somewhat in her appearance from the cock in being of a dark, rusty-brown colour instead of “so black of hue,” as Shakespeare has it of her mate.

This species is common in gardens, orchards, shrubberies, hedgerows, and woods all over the British Islands. I have even met with it breeding in a little garden close to the Atlantic in the outermost island of the Hebridean group and within sight of lone St. Kilda.

Its nest is placed in isolated thorn bushes, evergreens of all kinds, hedges, in trees sometimes at a considerable elevation, in holes in dry stone walls, in sheds, and even amongst grass upon the level ground. Last spring I saw two in the grass, one inside a thrashing machine, and another joined to the nest of a Song Thrush on a wooden bar inside a cattle shed, and all of them were within a few yards of suitable hedgerows. The structure is composed of small dead twigs, roots, dry grass, and moss intermixed with clay or mud, and lined with fine, dry grass.

The eggs, numbering from four to six, are of a dull bluish-green, spotted and blotched with reddish-brown and grey. Occasionally specimens may be met with having a few hair-like lines on the larger end. The eggs vary considerably in regard to size, shape, and coloration.

Blackbirds breed from March until June, July, and even August, and have been known to rear as many as four broods in a single season. Young birds of the first brood sometimes help their parents to feed the chicks of a second family.

The glory of an Ouzel’s song consists not so much in its variety and compass as in the rich, flute-like melodiousness of its tones and the easy, leisurely manner of their delivery. They are readily distinguished from the hurried, vehement, hope-inspiring notes of the Song Thrush by their mellowness, stately delivery, and touch of melancholy.

Blackbirds sing principally during the morning and evening, but as a rule do not commence quite as early or go on so late as Throstles. A warm spring shower will, however, always draw the best and sweetest music from the Merle at whatever hour of the day it may fall. This species loves to sing from a dead, bare bough, standing well above the surrounding foliage, but occasionally holds forth on the wing, and I have heard one sing habitually from a housetop in the Outer Hebrides.

Although the male Blackbird helps the female to feed their nestlings, this does not put a stop to his vocal efforts. He frequently carols a few notes near the nest directly after he has delivered his catch of worms and grubs, and this fact may, to some extent, account for the chicks commencing to sing three months after they have been hatched.

Some members of this species will sing off and on as late as the end of July, and commence again as early even as September.

The Blackbird, when heard at very close quarters, may be discerned to imitate the notes of other species, as I have discovered when lying in hiding trying to obtain phonographic records of its song. It is said to be able to reproduce the crowing of a cock or the cackle of a laying hen, and even snatches of popular songs.

The bird’s call note is a _tisserr, tack, tack_, and its well-known ringing alarm cry, _spink, spink, spink_.

=THE TWITE OR MOUNTAIN LINNET.=

I have had many excellent opportunities of studying this wee songster whilst staying in the Outer Hebrides, where it is far more numerous than in any other part of the British Isles. In general appearance, flight, and habits it closely resembles its relative, the Common Linnet, but may be distinguished from that species by the fact that it has a longer tail and more slender form, a yellow beak, and lacks the crimson colouring on its head and breast.

The female is distinguished from the male by the fact that she is lighter-coloured, and has no crimson on her rump.

Young Twites resemble their mother in appearance.

The song of the cock is a very pleasant little performance, somewhat similar to that of the Linnet, although not equal to it either in strength or sweetness. I have frequently heard the bird singing on the top of a stone wall within a few feet of his mate sitting on her nest in the honeysuckle shown in our illustration. He occasionally varied this kind of exercise by pouring forth his music whilst fluttering through the air from one side of the garden to the other.

Numbers of male Twites roost every night during the spring amongst some stunted alder bushes growing close to the house of an old friend of mine in the Western Isles, and enliven the whole place each fine evening by a volume of twittering sound.

The call note of the species is somewhat shrill, and sounds like _twite_, from which the bird has derived its name.

It is said to breed in the North of England, but although I have met with the bird in great flocks, both in Yorkshire and Westmorland, during the autumn, I never discovered its nest upon the Fells. I have found it breeding on several Highland mountains, but as already stated, most numerously in the Outer Hebrides. How abundant it actually is in the Western Isles may be gathered from the fact that I have found no fewer than seven nests in the course of a zig-zag walk of a mile or so from the house of one friend to that of another. As an indication of the wide variety of sites chosen by the Mountain Linnet--as the bird is sometimes called--for its little home, I will mention the places in which I discovered the above-named nests. Two were in holes in a dry stone wall, the one containing eggs, figured in our illustration, at the top of a stone wall and sheltered by a piece of overhanging turf, which had been placed there to increase the height of the fence; one in a tuft of heather growing close to a half-buried rock; one in a furze bush where a Common Linnet’s nest might have been expected; another in a stunted gooseberry bush; and the last in an ivy geranium growing inside a small greenhouse, to which the birds gained entrance through a broken pane in the roof. On more than one occasion I have found a nest, containing eggs or young ones, under an overhanging tuft of grass growing from a crevice of rock on the small piece of North Uist Coast shown in the tailpiece to this article.

A Twite’s nest sometimes takes a long time to build. I remember one that occupied a whole fortnight from foundation laying to completion. It is made of fibrous roots, dead grasses, and moss, with an inner lining of feathers, fur, or hair.

The eggs number five or six, of a light bluish-green or bluish-white ground colour, marked with reddish-brown and dark brown spots and streaks.

=THE WOOD WREN.=

The Wood Wren, or Wood Warbler as it is sometimes called, measures just over five inches in length. On its upper parts it is olive-green tinged with yellow, except in the case of its wings and tail, which are dusky. The chin, cheeks, throat, and breast are yellow, and under parts white. A line of bright yellow runs from the base of the bill over the eye. The bird may be distinguished from its relative, the Willow Wren, by its larger size, broader yellow band over the eye, greener upper parts, and whiter abdomen, also by its longer wings. Its nest is also a safe guide to correct identification, as will be shown presently.

The female is similar to the male in her appearance.

This species loves woods containing tall beech and other trees, and although of somewhat local occurrence, may be met with in nearly all suitable parts of England and Wales. It is rarer in Scotland and Ireland. It is difficult to study, except at the nest, on account of its habit of hunting for insects amongst the leaves near the tops of trees. However, its plaintive call note and very characteristic song are constantly being uttered, and can never be mistaken for those of any other bird.

Its nest is built on the ground amongst thick herbage, is oval in shape, and domed. The outside consists of dry grass, dead leaves, and moss, with an inner lining of fine dead grass and horsehair. Although in general appearance the structure is almost exactly like those of the Willow Wren and Chiffchaff, it may always be distinguished with certainty from them by the absence of feathers.

The eggs, numbering five or six, are white, thickly spotted all over with dark purplish-brown and violet-grey.

The song, although short, is clear, loud, sweet, oft repeated, and sounds something like _sit-sit-sit-sit-sit-see-eeeeeze_. Each of the opening notes of the song is uttered more rapidly than that which preceded it, until they develop into a kind of trill, rising in pitch all the time, and finally end in a long, shaky, thin one. The melody is accompanied by rapid vibrations of the wings and tail, as if the loud voice shook the body of the wee singer.

The call note is a plaintive _twee_ or _tway tway_, frequently used as a kind of alternative to the song described above.

Although such a small bird, the Wood Wren is very courageous at the nest. The individual figured in our illustration repeatedly attacked my hand with bill and wings when I attempted to disturb her in her maternal duties. She was very angry with me when the photograph was secured, and incidentally it shows the great length of wing in this species.

This Warbler is a late arrival upon our shores, coming about the end of April and departing again in September. It lives entirely upon insects.

=THE RING OUZEL.=

Mountain solitudes, with lonely crag-strewn glens and rough, deep gulches, “far removed from the busy haunts of men,” form the home of this brave, independent bird. If a few stunted rowan or whitethorn trees peep shyly from sheltered corners and crevices here and there the better will the situation be liked.

The Ring Ouzel arrives in this country in April and quits our shores again during September and October. It is about the same size as the Common Blackbird, and behaves more or less like a member of that well-known species. In colour it is dull black with an edging of dark grey to the feathers. Across the chest stretches a broad crescent-like band of pure white. The female is rather lighter coloured, and the white gorget on her breast is neither so broad nor so pure.

This species breeds in the West of England, in the six northern counties, and in suitable parts of Wales, Scotland, and Ireland.

Its song consists of a few clear, powerful notes that would sound out of place if heard anywhere but amongst the bird’s wild, lonely surroundings. During a calm spring evening the plaintive, lonesome notes of the Mountain Blackbird, as this species is sometimes called, can be heard at a great distance because the singer has a habit of delivering its music from a high boulder or cairn.

The alarm cry is a loud _tac-tac-tac_, which is uttered with great volubility and vehemence when the nest containing young ones is approached.

I have found the nest of the Ring Ouzel, which is a very similar structure to that of the Blackbird, amongst long heather growing upon a steep bank by a burn-side, amongst rocks in the face of small broken cliffs, under sheltering stones projecting from the ground, on steep hillsides, and in holes in old stone walls. I once discovered one amongst rushes on flat ground, but this is an exceptional kind of situation.

Although a comparatively shy, wary bird under ordinary circumstances, the Ring Ouzel is possessed of great courage, which it rarely fails to display in the defence of its young. I have on more than one occasion watched members of the species driving stray Kestrels away from the neighbourhood of their nests. They will fly close round the head of a human intruder, uttering discordant cries if their chicks are molested.

The eggs are very similar to those of the Common Blackbird, bluish-green in ground colour, marked with reddish-brown spots. The markings are, as a rule, however, larger than those on the eggs of the above-mentioned species.

Young Ring Ouzels have no white collar or gorget on the breast. Their feathers are brownish-black, edged with dirty white, and when they sit still on a grey limestone or under a ledge they are, in consequence, difficult to see.

=THE TREE PIPIT.=

We have three Pipits breeding in the British Islands--viz. the Meadow, Rock, and Tree, which are all very well named according to their respective habits. Owing, however, to, their similarity of general appearance, the two latter species are frequently mistaken for the first, and described as Titlarks.

The plumage of the Tree Pipit is sandy brown in colour, streaked with dark brown above, light buff with streaky dark brown spots on breast, and dull white on the under parts. It is rather larger than the Meadow Pipit, its colours are brighter, and it has a curved hind claw which is shorter than the toe from which it springs, whereas in the case of its relative the Meadow Pipit the hind claw is long and nearly straight. This shows a wonderful provision of Nature. The first-named bird is wholly migratory, and perches on trees, hence the short curved claw must render it very useful for grasping branches; the second is only partially migratory, great numbers staying in this country throughout the year, and its long hind claw must prove very advantageous as a snowshoe during the winter.

As its name implies, the species under notice frequents parts of the country where trees grow, preferably in clumps with grassy glades between.

The male Tree Pipit is a very sweet singer, and makes his music more attractive by the manner in which he delivers it. He alights generally on the topmost branch of some favourite tree, from which elevation he mounts the air to varying heights of from twenty to sixty or seventy feet by a series of rapid wing beats, commences to utter his song with a _chee, chee, chee, chee_, when he has reached a sufficient altitude for his purpose, and delivers it whilst he is gliding down slowly in a kind of half-circle through the air with outstretched wings, expanded tail, and dangling legs.