Part 4

Although such a common species, the Meadow Pipit is shyer at the nest than the Tree Pipit, and a satisfactory photograph is difficult to secure. On one occasion I was shown a nest containing chicks beneath a rock in the foreground of our tailpiece, and although I built a stone hiding-house for myself and the camera, it was a long time before I exposed a plate owing to the fact that the female persisted in standing on a crag at some distance and swallowing all the food her mate brought instead of carrying it to the young ones.

=THE WILLOW WREN.=

The Willow Wren, or Willow Warbler, arrives in this country early in April, and takes its departure again in September, although individuals linger with us sometimes throughout the winter in the southern parts of England.

In colour it is olive-green on its upper parts, with dullish-slate brown wings and tail; chin, throat, and breast whitish-yellow, and rest of under parts greyish-white. The pale yellow line over the eye is narrower than that worn by the Wood Wren.

This species is more numerous than either the Chiffchaff or the Wood Wren, and is generally distributed over the British Islands whenever trees or bushes grow in sufficient numbers for its requirements.

Its nest is generally situated on the ground amongst coarse grass and weeds entwining themselves round the slender twigs of small bushes in woods, plantations, orchards, hedge-banks, and by small alder-fringed streams. I have, however, sometimes seen it in a hole in a dry stone wall at a considerable height from the ground and on one occasion found a nest amongst some ivy growing against a stable wall in the Highlands at an elevation of something like six feet from a much-used garden path. The specimen figured in our illustration was situated in the mouth of a rabbit burrow in Aberdeenshire.

The structure is dome-shaped with a hole in front, and is composed of dead grass, moss, and occasionally a few dead leaves and fern fronds lined internally with hair and a liberal number of feathers. On one occasion I examined the lining of a Willow Wren’s nest and found that it contained feathers from seven different species of birds, and some of them had been collected by the builder at a considerable distance.

The eggs, numbering from four to eight, are white, spotted with pale rusty-red, whereas those of the Chiffchaff, with which they are most likely to be confused on account of the similarity of the nests built by the birds, are marked with dark purplish-brown.

The Willow Wren is one of the brightest and sweetest carol singers visiting our shores. Although its song is short and contains but little variety, there is a sprightliness and simplicity about it that never fails to charm. I always associate the bird’s thrice-welcome notes with the babbling alder-fringed trout streams of my youth, spring sunshine, and the sweet freshness of expanding leaves.

John Burroughs, the great American ornithologist, who once came over here to study the song birds of our country, said, “The Willow Wren has a long, tender, delicious warble, not wanting in strength and volume, but eminently pure and sweet--the song of the Chaffinch refined and idealised.... It mounts up round and full, then runs down the scale and expires upon the air in a gentle murmur.”

Willow Wrens proclaim their presence directly they arrive in this country by commencing to sing, and continue to do so until the end of July. I have heard one, together with a Robin and a Song Thrush, carolling in my garden to-day--the 16th of August. After moulting, they commence their music again in September, so they are not long silent.

The song varies, like that of many other melodists, in different parts of the country, and is sometimes uttered on the wing. The alarm note is a plaintive _t-wheet_, with the first _t_ suggested rather than sounded.

=THE HEDGE SPARROW.=

Although a soft-billed species, much more closely related to the Robin than the Sparrow, this bird has enjoyed its popular name so long that it is likely to be known by it to the end of time. It also has two or three others, such as Hedge Accentor, used almost exclusively by ornithologists, and Dunnock and Shufflewing, which are more or less local.

It is common nearly all over the country--though I have never met with it in either the Outer Hebrides or the Shetlands--inhabiting gardens, orchards, hedgerows, and woods.

Some people do not care for the song of the Hedge Sparrow, but I must admit that I am an admirer of this wee brown bird’s vocal accomplishments. Its notes, although soft and lacking in variety, are sweet and always have the true ring of joy and hope in them. They seem to herald the coming of spring.

This species has a peculiar habit of flirting or shuffling its wings, hence the very appropriate local name before mentioned. Its call note is a plaintive _peep, peep_.

The Hedge Sparrow, of course, stays with us all the year round, and in the winter hops quietly about in gardens, round fowl-houses and sinks, diligently picking up the very tiniest particles of food that other birds either do not see or consider beneath their attention. When disturbed it timidly retires beneath some bush or hedge, and waits until all is quiet, when it comes forth again with a gentleness and modesty that win it a great deal of sympathy during hard weather.

It breeds early, and hides its nest, as carefully as circumstances will permit, in evergreens and thick hedgerows. Although such a common species, it has one habit which is not often mentioned in books. When laying it frequently covers over its eggs with part of the lining of the nest before leaving them.

On one occasion I photographed a Dunnock sitting on her nest in a bramble bush, and wishing for a different view of her returned the following morning in order to secure it. When I approached the place I observed the bird sitting at home, but in endeavouring to get close to her with my apparatus I frightened her off. Pathetically enough, upon looking into the structure, I discovered that the bird had been sitting inside an absolutely empty home.

The Hedge Sparrow makes her nest of slender twigs, in limited numbers--sometimes these are not employed at all--rootlets, dead grass, and moss, with an inner lining of wool, hair, and feathers. The lining frequently consists of no other materials than moss and cowhair.

The eggs number from four to six, and are turquoise-blue in colour and unspotted.

Two, and even three, broods are reared in a season. Nests may be found as early as March and as late as the end of July.

=THE GREENFINCH.=

The Greenfinch, or Green Linnet as it is called in many parts of the country, is a thick-set little bird, about six inches, of a yellowish-green colour, shaded with ash-grey above, and bright yellow, slightly tinged with ash-grey, on its under parts. The female is not quite as large as her mate, and much duller in colour.

This species is common in nearly all parts of the country where there are cultivated fields, small woods, hedgerows, and gardens. In fact, I should say that it ranks next to the Common Sparrow amongst the finches in point of numbers.

Although a somewhat selfish bird, full of threats and warlike attitudes when a favourite item of food--such as a sunflower head full of seeds--has been discovered, it is sociable to a great extent, even during the breeding season. I have found three or four nests within a yard or two of each other in a hedgerow, and Mr. Hudson says that two or three may sometimes be found even on the same branch.

The nest is situated in hedgerows, gorse bushes, yew, holly, ivy, and other evergreens, in orchards, gardens, shrubberies, and on commons, and when compared with that of the Chaffinch is a rather large and slovenly structure formed of slender, dead twigs, rootlets, grass, and moss lined with hair, down, and feathers.

The eggs, numbering from four to six, are white, pale grey, or white tinged with blue, spotted principally round the larger end with reddish-brown and purplish-grey.

The male Greenfinch, although not a great feathered vocalist, has some very pleasant notes, which he trills by the half-hour together. In the early part of the breeding season he sings on the wing, but later on he grows less energetic, and is content to deliver his oft-repeated lay from some favourite treetop. Individuals differ in the quality of their notes.

In confinement the Greenfinch soon becomes very tame and docile, and is appreciated on this account, and also for its ability to imitate the notes of other species.

The call-note is a prolonged _twe-e-er_, and when the nest is visited the members of this species utter a very melancholy one sounding like _tway_.

In winter Greenfinches congregate in small flocks, and hunt for seeds in stubble fields and farmyards. They will associate with Sparrows, Linnets, and Chaffinches, and during the winter months they come regularly to my garden to take their share of corn, sunflower seeds, and other food which is provided every morning for the consumption of all feathered friends. It is amusing to see one of these birds rolling a grain of Indian corn about between its short, stout mandibles, gradually reducing it to pieces small enough to be swallowed, and cleverly rejecting the thin husk in which it is enfolded, and allowing it to flutter to the ground.

=THE DARTFORD WARBLER.=

This bird received its popular name on account of the fact that it was first observed near Dartford in Kent in 1773. It is also known by the very appropriate name of Furze Wren in some parts of the country, because it has a habit of cocking its long tail like a Common Wren and is very partial to thick growths of furze.

The Dartford Warbler is about five inches long, and in addition to its habit of cocking its tail, which measures nearly half its entire length, possesses the lark-like power of erecting the feathers on the top of its head so as to form a kind of crest. On his upper parts the male is greyish-black, the wings and tail being blackish-brown and the outside feathers of the latter broadly tipped with grey; chin, throat, breast, and sides chestnut-brown; under parts white, excepting at the base of the tail, where they are grey. The female is browner on her upper parts and lighter underneath.

Furze-clad commons along the south coast of England form the home of this rare, shy, and interesting species, which there is every reason to fear is growing still rarer owing to the damage done to it by such severe winters as those of 1881 and 1895 and the depredations of egg collectors.

Although a very difficult bird to observe, and therefore liable to be overlooked, particularly during dull, wet weather, when it does not show itself on the tops of furze bushes, there is every reason to fear that it has quite vanished from many of its old Surrey and Sussex haunts, where I have sought for it day after day in vain. For obvious reasons I cannot divulge the whereabouts of the place where our photograph of the adult male opposite was secured, by the kind assistance of a friend who fed the bird on mealworms at the same place, close to his nest and young ones, morning by morning until he got into the habit of visiting the top of that particular furze bush regularly in search of his breakfast.

The nest is built in the lower parts of thick furze bushes, and is composed of small, slender branches of furze, grass stalks, bits of moss, and wool, with an inner lining of fine grass and sometimes a few hairs.

The eggs number four or five, greenish- or buffish-white in ground colour, speckled all over with dark olive-brown, and underlying markings of grey.

Although a bird of weak flight, the Furze Wren is very active and nimble when searching from bush to bush for its food, which consists of flies, moths, spiders, caterpillars, and other small deer.

It has a hurried little song, which has been described as “shrill and piping” by one authority, and “an angry, impatient ditty, for ever the same,” by another. Early in the season it is delivered whilst the singer is hovering in the air like a Whitethroat, moving his head from side to side and waving his tail in all directions, but later more soberly from the topmost branch of some furze bush. The slightest disturbance instantly silences the vocalist, and he drops straight into the hiding afforded by the thick cover below.

The most frequently heard call-note of this species sounds like _pit-it-chou_ or _pitch-oo_, hence its very appropriate French name of “Pitchou.” It also has another harsh note, sounding like _cha, cha_.

=THE MISSEL THRUSH.=

The Missel Thrush measures something like eleven and a half inches in length, and is the largest member of its family inhabiting our islands. It is, perhaps, more numerous now than it has ever been before, owing to the long succession of mild, open winters we have enjoyed and the fact that during the last century it has greatly increased its breeding range both to the North and West. In 1800 it was unknown in Ireland, but is now abundant in that country.

On its upper parts the Missel Thrush is ash-brown in colour, and buffish-white below, marked with blackish-brown spots. It may always be distinguished from the Song Thrush by its larger size, greyer colour, and by the fact that when on the wing it shows a conspicuous white stripe down either side of its tail.

This bird loves small woods, well-timbered parks, orchards, and tree-fringed streams common in the dales of the North of England. Its nest is built in the fork of a tree or on a strong horizontal branch at varying heights of from three to forty feet from the ground, but I have never seen it in such a bush as the Song Thrush would be likely to patronise. Sometimes it is small and well concealed, but at others it is large and quite conspicuous. Occasionally I have found it adorned on the outside with lichen matching that growing on the tree wherein it was built, and even with green ivy leaves harmonising with the moss clinging to the trunk of the tree in which it was situated; but, on the other hand, I have found nests ornamented with large pieces of wool waving in the wind, and even the large wing feathers of a white barn-door Fowl. The nest is constructed of a few slender twigs (sometimes these are quite absent), grass stems, moss, mud, and wool, with an inner lining of fine, dead grass.

The eggs, numbering four or five, vary from greyish-green to reddish-grey in ground colour, marked with brownish-red spots.

The Missel Thrush, or Storm Cock as it is called in many parts of the country, from its habit of singing on the topmost branches of tall trees during wet, windy weather, is one of our very earliest feathered vocalists. I have heard it piping its bold, defiant notes as early as in December in the South of England and as late as the end of June in the Highlands of Scotland, and have found its nest and eggs from the end of February until the middle of June.

Although by no means a first-class melodist, the Storm Cock has some very sweet notes, and the unpleasant climatic conditions under which he frequently delivers them seem to enhance their value. I have often listened to him, brave bird! whilst he was swaying to and fro on the topmost branch of some wind-swept tree, and I could only catch a note here and there, the rest being carried away on a chord of the storm.

Few of our poets have given the Missel Thrush any attention whatever in their verse, but one has done it justice in the following lines:

“Whilst thou! the leader of the band, Fearless salut’st the opening year, Nor stay’st till blow the breezes bland That bid the tender leaves appear; But on some towering elm or pine Waving aloft thy dauntless wing Thou joy’st thy love notes wild to sing.”

This species sometimes imitates the notes of other birds, but not nearly to the same extent as its commoner relative, the Song Thrush, and renders them in such an undernote that they are difficult to hear on account of the singer not allowing the listener to approach very closely.

The call note is a harsh, rattling kind of cry, which, lengthened a little, and uttered with greater vehemence, becomes the alarm.

Although shy during the greater part of the year, this bird grows much bolder during the breeding season. I have known it build in a fruit tree within a few yards of the front door of a farmhouse, and have seen it attack a stuffed owl which had been placed near its nest, containing young ones, and knock it clean out of the tree.

=THE DIPPER.=

The earliest recollections of my old moorland home in Yorkshire are of rushing mountain torrents, swirling and gurgling round limestone boulders, beneath which I used to tickle the lively little brown trout, and of white-breasted Dippers flitting up and down.

The Water Ouzel, as it is sometimes called, is not at all a sociable bird. It takes possession of some portion of a stream, often limited to a few hundred yards in length, and keeping more or less strictly to it will not allow any intruder of its own species to encroach upon its domain.

In appearance it is by no means unlike a large black Wren with a snowy-white breast and chestnut under parts.

It secures its food in the most wonderful manner when the fact is taken into consideration that the bird appears to be no more adapted to the methods it employs than a Song Thrush. Alighting on some stone in the middle of a rapid stream, it deliberately walks down into the water and swims along the bottom by a series of wing-beats, picking up and swallowing as it goes caddis worms, larvæ of flies, and small molluscs. On several occasions I have disturbed young Dippers in the nest when they were ready to fly, and have seen them one by one plunge into a deep, clear pool and progress just as if they were flying slowly and heavily along under water until they came to shore or were compelled to rise to the surface from exhaustion.

The Dipper is a sweet singer, but the listener requires to be very close to the little vocalist before he is in a position thoroughly to appreciate the bird’s low, soft, warbling song, which, although of no great length, is practised even in the middle of winter.

A year or two ago I had occasion to catch an early train in Westmorland, and whilst walking through some rock-strewn pastures to the station came to an old wooden bridge crossing the river Eden. It was close upon Christmas, the air was biting cold, and everything clad in the crystal purity of a heavy hoar frost. Just as I approached the river, day was breaking, and my attention was arrested by a sweet, silvery snatch of song, which I at once recognised as that of the Dipper. I waited on the footbridge until it was light enough to see the bird standing on a moss-clad boulder in the middle of a dark, glassy pool, and shall never forget the beauty of the morning light breaking on the water, the stillness of the scene amidst the lonely hills, nor the sweetness of that exquisite little carol sent out like a flood of joy on the crisp, winter air.

The call note of the species is _zit_ or _chit, chit_, uttered both when the bird is on the wing and whilst curtseying and dipping in its own quaint way on some stone half submerged in a brawling stream.

The bird builds its nest in all kinds of positions, but never away from flowing water. It may be found in crevices of rock, in holes beneath stone bridges, on large moss-grown boulders in or on the bank of a stream, behind the falling waters of a cascade, and in trees overhanging rivers. It is quite a large structure for the size of the builder, and is made of moss securely woven and felted together on the outside and lined with rootlets, soft dead grass, and leaves placed layer upon layer inside. It is dome-shaped, with the entrance hole placed so low down that the overhanging roof forms a kind of portico which cunningly prevents any stray splash of water from finding its way inside.

The eggs, numbering from four to six, are pure white, and quite unspotted.

Young Dippers, instead of having white, conspicuous breasts like their parents, have the feathers edged with dusky black, which greatly aids concealment when they are sitting at rest.

This species breeds in the North and West of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland wherever there are tumbling, foaming brooks suitable to its habits.

A spring or two ago I spent several days inside a hollow, artificial rock, photographing the bird represented in our illustration, and was delighted with its interesting ways. The cock fed the hen, sitting inside the nest keeping their tiny chicks warm during some particularly cold weather for the season, and performed his task with great diligence and dispatch.

One day he heard the shutter of my camera click, and grew inquisitive. As soon as he had delivered his catch of larvæ, he hopped from stone to stone, until he finally stood upon one which allowed him to take a peep inside my hiding contrivance, one corner of which projected over the bank of the beck in such a way as to allow me to look down and see the water rushing past. Cocking his knowing little head first on one side and then the other, he looked up at me and made a most critical examination of everything he saw. He apparently came to the conclusion that I was quite harmless, for when he had satisfied his curiosity he sang a little song, and then flew away in search of more food for his mate and their chicks.

=THE CHIFFCHAFF.=

This tiny warbler measures only about four and three-quarter inches in length, is dull olive-green tinged with yellow above and yellowish-white below. Over the eye it wears a pale yellowish streak which grows whiter as it recedes.

The Chiffchaff is, with the exception of the hardy Wheatear, the first feathered wanderer to return to us in the spring, and is eagerly looked, or rather listened, for by naturalists because its welcome notes stand in their calendar as January 1 does to the rest of the world--the beginning of a New Year--not of days, weeks, and months, but of awakening life, activity, and joy. It arrives in March and departs again in October, some individuals having the hardihood to stay even through the winter in the mild south-western parts of England.

This species breeds generally throughout the southern and midland parts of England, but it is not common in the northern counties or in Scotland. It is met with in all suitable districts of Wales and Ireland, but is everywhere more or less local.