Part 12

The nest which I am now enabled to record was placed in a fork of a very thin bough of an elm tree, at a considerable height from the ground, and almost at the extremity of the branch, so that it was impossible to reach it except by cutting off the branch near the trunk. Happily, in this case there was no need to reach it, and the finder was enabled to ascertain when the young were hatched by sending a man up the tree high enough to look into the nest without disturbing it. A few days before his first ascent there had been a strong wind blowing for some time, and the slender branch was swayed to and fro to such an extent, that, notwithstanding the depth of the saucer-like nest, one of the eggs was jerked out upon the grass below and broken, though not irreparably so. When I saw it, it was in two pieces, but unmistakably the egg of an Oriole—in size equal to that of a Blackbird, but shining white, with black or rather dark claret-coloured spots at the larger end. It has been carefully preserved by Mr. Tomlin.

As long as his man remained in the tree the hen bird continued to fly round, uttering at intervals a loud flute-like note, and occasionally making a curious noise, such as a cat makes when angry.

It is perhaps scarcely necessary to remark that, as regards situation, form, and the materials of which it was composed, the nest did not differ from those which one is accustomed to see on the Continent. Invariably placed in, and suspended under, the fork of a horizontal bough, the sides of the nest are firmly bound to each branch of the fork with blades of dry grasses and fibrous roots. There is generally a good deal of sheep’s wool in the nest itself, which, taken in connection with its peculiar shape, gives it a very singular and unique appearance.

On the 12th of July, as we approached the nest in question, the hen bird was sitting, but left as we advanced, and perched in a neighbouring elm, whence at intervals she uttered the peculiar noise to which I have referred. Not wishing to keep her too long from her young, we left the spot in about ten minutes, after carefully inspecting the nest with a binocular. Returning again in half-an-hour, and a third time two or three hours later, we saw the hen on each occasion quit the nest and take up her position, as before, at a little distance. Once only did I catch a glimpse of her more brightly-coloured mate as he darted between two trees. He was very shy, and silent too, being seldom heard, except very early in the morning, or at twilight. This, however, is the case with most song-birds after the young are hatched, for they are then so busy providing food for the little mouths that they have scarcely time to sit and sing. Mr. Tomlin, who had other and better opportunities for observing him, gave me to understand that he was not in the fully adult plumage,[113] so that it seems the males of this species breed before they have assumed their beautiful black and yellow colours.

On the 22nd of July the man again ascended the tree and peeped into the nest. The young had flown, but were subsequently discovered sitting about in the park with the old birds. As soon as the nest was no longer wanted, Mr. Tomlin had the branch which supported it cut off, and, writing to me on the subject the following day, he observed, that “upon examining the nest we found the corners tightly bound with long pieces of matting. One would almost imagine that a basketmaker had been at work.”

Both the old and young birds continued to haunt the park until the 1st of August, after which date they were no longer seen. The young were, however, well feathered by that time, and able to take care of themselves. Let us hope that they contrived to escape the eyes of prowling gunners beyond the park, and that they will return again in succeeding years to gladden the eyes and ears of their kind protector.

It is much to be wished that other proprietors would follow the good example thus set by Mr. Bankes Tomlin. Could they be induced to do so, they would become acquainted with many beautiful birds which visit us from the Continent every spring, and which would in most cases rear their young here if allowed to remain unmolested. Apart from the gratification to be derived from seeing these brightly-coloured birds within view of the windows, and hearing their mellow flute-like notes, they would be found to be most useful allies to the gardener in ridding the trees of caterpillars, which they devour greedily, and keeping many other noxious insects in check.

THE RED-BACKED SHRIKE. (_Lanius collurio._)

Quite unlike any other of our summer migrants in appearance, the Red-backed Shrike, or Butcher-bird, as it is more frequently called, differs from them all in habits, and from the majority in having no song to recommend it to notice. It is a curious bird in its way, shy and retired in its disposition, and prefers tall tangled hedgerows or the thick foliage of the lower branches of the oak, where it can sit unobservedly and dart out upon its unsuspecting prey. It is a very Hawk by nature, capturing and killing mice, small birds, moths and beetles of every size and description. These when caught are firmly impaled upon the long and strong points of the whitethorn for future consumption, and the odds and ends which may be found thus hung up, as it were, in the Butcher-bird’s larder are worth notice. On one thorn, perchance, a Blue Titmouse with its head off, on another a small meadow mouse (_Arvicola agrestis_), or perhaps a harvest mouse (_Mus messorius_), on a third a great dor-beetle or a cockchafer, not yet dead, but buzzing round and round upon the sharp thorn, and trying in vain to effect its escape, while above, below, and on all sides may be seen the wingless bodies of large moths, the fluttering forms of dragon-flies, or the remains of beetles.

From this singular habit the bird has earned the name of Butcher-bird, not only in England but in other countries. In France it is termed _l’écorcheur_, the flayer; in Germany it is known as _der Würger_ (the strangler, or garotter), and der _Fleischer_, or butcher, whence no doubt is derived “Flusher,” the provincial name by which it is known in some parts of England. The Linnæan name for the genus, _Lanius_, has the same signification.

The Red-backed Shrike arrives here somewhat later than most of the summer migrants, and is seldom observed before the first week in May. It is generally found in pairs until after the young are hatched and ready to fly, when the families keep together in little parties until the end of August or beginning of September, when they leave the country.

The note of the Red-backed Shrike resembles the syllables “tst-tst,” or “tsook-tsook,” loudly uttered, and reminds one a little of the notes of the Whinchat and Stonechat. It has besides a harsh “kurr-r,” which it utters when any one approaches the nest, and as it flits from branch to branch, lowering the head, and slowly moving the tail up and down.

The male is decidedly a handsome bird. It has the head and neck grey, with a broad black streak passing from the bill through the eye and ear coverts, the back reddish chestnut, chin white, under parts pale salmon colour, and the wings and tail black, the latter broadly marked with white at the base.

The hen bird is much plainer in appearance, being of a dull and somewhat mottled brown above, and buffy white beneath, with crescentic brown markings on the breast and flanks.

The bill in both is short and thick, the upper mandible hooked at the point and prominently notched or toothed, as in a hawk. The feet are strong, with sharp and curved claws, and well adapted for seizing and holding a struggling prey.

Both birds assist in the construction of the nest, which is a substantial well-built structure of twigs, dry grass, and moss, lined with fibrous roots and horsehair, and is usually placed at some height from the ground in the middle of a whitethorn bush, or thick hedgerow. The eggs, five and sometimes six in number, vary a good deal in colour, being yellowish or greyish white with lilac or pale brown markings disposed in a zone at the larger end, or pale salmon colour, with dull red markings distributed in the same way.

The distribution of this bird in the British Islands is very partial, for it is unknown in Ireland, of rare occurrence in Scotland, and in England is found chiefly in the midland and southern counties. During the summer months it is generally dispersed throughout Europe and the temperate parts of Siberia, and as autumn approaches, it crosses the Mediterranean into Africa, where it travels down the east coast through Egypt, Nubia, and Abyssinia, to Natal, and on the west coast has been met with in Great Namaqua Land, Damara Land, and the Okavango region, where, according to Andersson, it breeds.[114]

Breeding in its winter quarters? Well, that is the question. Can the birds which Andersson found nesting in South-west Africa in our winter, have been the same birds which reared a brood in Europe the previous summer? He says it is migratory in Damara Land. Is the same species, then, found on both sides of the equator, migrating north and south on both sides of it, but never crossing it?

The late Mr. Blyth thought that, with one exception, our summer migratory birds do not breed in their winter quarters, but from what has been recorded of the Swallow, the Sandmartin, the Wryneck, the Turtle-Dove and the present species, there seems room to doubt the correctness of this view.

Another species of Shrike, the Woodchat (_Lanius rutilus_), has been met with in this country during the summer months, and has been reported even to have nested here. It is of extremely rare occurrence, however, and cannot with propriety be included, at least for the present, amongst our annual summer migrants.

THE TURTLE-DOVE. (_Turtur auritus._)

Amidst the general harmony of the grove in spring, there are few prettier sounds than the gentle cooing of the Turtle-Dove. Perched upon a bough at no great height from the ground, it pours forth its soft murmurings with a delightful _crescendo_ and _diminuendo_, while close at hand, upon a mere frame-work of a nest, the mate sits brooding upon her two milk-white eggs.

Arriving in this country towards the end of April or beginning of May, the Turtle-Dove is seen only in pairs until the young are able to fly. Young and old then unite in flocks, and ten or a dozen may often be found together in the pea-fields and on the stubble, where they pick up the fallen grain. They are very partial also to vetches, rape, and wild mustard, and do some service to farmers by ridding the cultivated lands of the seeds of numerous weeds, such as the Corn Spurrey (_Spergula arvensis_), which is common in corn-fields, and the Silver-weed (_Potentilla anserina_), which they find upon the fallows.

When Partridge shooting in September I have frequently found Turtle-Doves feeding amongst the root crops as well as on the bare stubble, but notwithstanding the cover afforded by the turnip-leaves I have generally found them so exceedingly wary, that it required a good deal of manœuvring before I could get a sufficient number to make a pie. In point of flavour, and of course in size, they are not to be compared with the Wood Pigeon, being rather dry and somewhat insipid. Their flight is rapid, and when suddenly flushed they go off at such a pace, that it requires a quick shot to bring one down.

When taken young they are readily tamed, and will even breed in confinement, a thing that rarely happens in the case of the Wood Pigeon. Mr. Stevenson has known two or three instances in which this species when caged has crossed with the Collared Turtle-Dove (_Turtur risoria_) and reared a brood, and others have been recorded. The young “presented many characteristics of both parents.”[115]

Although commoner in the eastern and southeastern counties of England, the Turtle-Dove is generally dispersed in summer throughout the British Islands. In Ireland it is regarded as an annual visitant to the cultivated districts, and it has been found in most of the counties of Scotland, where Mr. Robert Gray, however, considers that it can only be ranked as a straggler.[116] All the specimens which have come under his own observation were obtained in spring or autumn. In the Hebrides specimens have been shot in Islay and Skye, but in the outer islands none have been seen. Dr. Saxby says that the Turtle-Dove, “although formerly very scarce in Shetland, may now be seen every year in certain of the gardens—that at Halligarth especially—between spring and autumn. It has always occurred singly. With nearly all the habit was to wander away during the day-time, returning at night to roost in one particular tree.”[117]

It was first known to occur in Shetland in the autumn of 1856, when Mr. Edmondston of Buness shot one at Balta Sound. “It was but little seen from that time until about six years ago (1868), by which time the trees had grown above the walls, offering a more suitable refuge for stragglers of this description.” On two occasions the Turtle-Dove has been found in Orkney.[118]

On the continent of Europe this bird seems to be confined chiefly to the central and southern parts, and does not reach Scandinavia or Russia. But in France, Spain, and the countries bordering the Mediterranean, it is very common in summer. Its winter haunts are in North Africa; and in Egypt and Nubia it is especially abundant. Capt. Shelley says that it frequently breeds there.[119] In the neighbourhood of Tangier vast flocks arrive from the interior in April and May to cross the Straits of Gibraltar,[120] and on reaching Andalusia afford considerable diversion to the Spanish sportsmen, who kill large numbers by lying in wait for them.

Mr. Thompson, when proceeding in H. M. S. “Beacon” from Malta to the Morea in the month of April, saw this species on its spring migration. One flew on board on the 24th of April, and another on the 25th; they each rested for a short time on the rigging, and then pursued their flight northwards. On the 26th four came from the south, two of them singly, the others in company; one only alighted on the ship; it was caught in the evening when asleep. Throughout the 27th many were observed coming from the south, and generally singly, never more than two together; very few alighted. On the 24th the vessel was at sunset ninety miles east of Sicily, Syracuse being the nearest land; on the 27th, forty-five miles from Zante, and sixty west of the Morea. On the 29th of April one was seen near Navarino; and another on the 6th of May in the island of Syra. At the end of the month numbers were observed amongst the light foliage in the gardens of the old seraglio at Constantinople.

Colonel Irby informs me that when on his way from Southampton to Gibraltar on the 9th October, he saw a Turtle-Dove on its southward migration in the middle of the Bay of Biscay.

THE LANDRAIL OR CORNCRAKE. (_Crex pratensis._)

Sportsmen who during the early part of September follow their “birds” into seed—clover, rape, or mustard—seldom fail in such places to pick up a Landrail or two, and add in this way a pleasing variety to their bag. The appearance of a Rail usually gives rise to some comment, and not unfrequently to an expression of surprise that a bird of such skulking habits and apparently of such weak flight should be able to leave the country periodically, and return to it. That it does so, however, is certain. It arrives here towards the end of April, and remains with us till the end of September. During May and part of June its incessant craking note is constantly reminding us of its presence; and if in July and August its silence has caused us for a time to forget it, we renew acquaintance once more in September, when in quest of nobler and more important game. After that month we may look for it almost in vain, for, although a Landrail now and then turns up during the winter months, its appearance at such times is exceptional, the great majority of these birds having left our shores before the first day of pheasant shooting has come round. We can only account for the appearance of Landrails in winter by supposing them to be individuals of a late brood, unprepared to leave at the proper time, or wounded birds unable to take part in the autumnal migration. In Ireland, however, their occurrence in winter and early spring has been noticed so much more frequently than in England, that a good naturalist there, Mr. Blake Knox, has suggested that the bird hybernates. Writing in the “Zoologist” for 1867, at page 679 he says: “I cannot divest myself of the belief that the Corncrake hybernates, notwithstanding my having found it repeatedly dead in the sea, both during autumn and spring, which many would say should prove migration to the most sceptical. I do not for one moment doubt that it leaves Ireland in numbers in the autumn, but where does it go? Does it hybernate where it goes to? Is it to be met with anywhere in numbers, flying or running, during our winter? Does it only crake in its spring or summer haunts? In support of hybernation, we have the great amount of fat, coming on in winter (Corncrakes often burst from fat when they fall on being shot), which all hybernating animals attain; the number of uninjured and healthy birds found in Ireland during winter, their peculiar skulking habits at this season, the old hollow ditches they frequent, their peculiar apathy and disinclination to fly, and their early appearance without ‘craking’ (I have seen them in the middle of March) along the sedges of rivers, which would be the first places they would make for after their winter rest. I do not see why hybernation of birds is so much scouted, for scores of animals and millions of insects do so. Many fishes, too, become so torpid that you may fish for weeks and not get one, yet some fine day dozens of the kind you look for will reward your patience; still you have been told or read somewhere that that species migrates from our shores in autumn “to seek more genial skies,’ and that is why they are not caught in winter. The subject is very far from being absurd, though many have considered it equally so with ‘Corncrake turning to Water-rail.’ I knocked down a ditch bank some years ago in January, and turned out three living Corncrakes, and ate them too. In the year 1861, during November and December, I used frequently to turn out of a particular hole one of these birds; I caught it at last one night in the hole—or nest I might say, for it was thickly bedded with leaves from a neighbouring dunghill, on which beech leaves had been thrown; but I let it go after some time—in honesty, not through kindness, but because I could not help it, for it could pass through any hole, almost, as Paddy used to say, “as limber as a glove.’ I could also state many instances of dogs chasing Corncrakes in winter to holes, and in one case remember how nearly I was summoned for tearing down a man’s ditch bank ‘in pursuit of rats,’ as he said, though he had two eyes and saw the bird run from hole to hole. More learned men than he may have often thought the same thing. Hybernating, in my view, would not mean a dead, torpid state. I should consider it a sleepy, inactive state—a lying-up in cold weather, and a temporary arousing during genial days; and in this state I have met the Corncrake in winter.”

Before one can accept the hybernation theory, however, some stronger evidence in its favour would be desirable—the discovery, for instance, of a Landrail in a torpid state from which it might be observed to recover. At present I do not remember to have heard of such an instance, and, so far as one’s knowledge of the bird extends, it seems far more probable that it seeks holes in banks and old walls merely for shelter and warmth, in the neighbourhood of which it contrives to find sufficient nourishment to keep it alive, until such time as the increasing warmth of spring brings increase of insects and molluscous food. An examination of the alimentary system of the Water-rail (_Rallus aquaticus_) shows that this bird is no better fitted to withstand an English winter than its cousin the Landrail, and yet it is frequently found by sportsmen upon Snipe-ground at the height of the cold season. Its good condition too at this time testifies to there being a sufficient supply of food, which should be equally obtainable by the Landrail.

The nature of this food is miscellaneous—slugs and snails of several species, small freshwater mollusca, worms, leeches, beetles, the seeds of various weeds, and tips of grass blades; in addition to which the stomach is usually found to contain numerous small particles of gravel or grit as aids to digestion.[121]

In its search for this kind of food, the Landrail must traverse daily an immense tract of ground, for which, however, its strong muscular legs and large feet are well adapted.

For six months at least in the year it appears to be very generally distributed throughout the British Islands; and in Ireland, owing to the more humid climate and the general prevalence of meadow land, it is thought to be even commoner than in England. As regards Scotland, the latest authority on the subject, Mr. Robert Gray, in his “Birds of the West of Scotland,” says: “There is, perhaps, no Scottish bird more generally distributed than the familiar Corncrake. It is found in every district, cultivated and uncultivated, on the western mainland, from the Mull of Galloway to Cape Wrath, and also over the whole extent of both groups of islands, and all the rocky islets on the west coast, extending to Haskeir Rocks, the Monach Islands, and St. Kilda. It will, in fact, take up its abode and rear its young on such places as are almost exclusively frequented by birds dependent on the sea for their daily subsistence, all that can be looked upon as an attraction being but an occasional patch of grass and a moist hollow, to remind it of the distant meadow where, perchance, it had its haunts the previous summer. I have observed it in the uninhabited islands of the Hebridean seas, and have heard it near the summit of Ailsa Craig, rasping its eerie cry after nightfall, as a rude lullaby to the Gulls hatching on the grassy verge of a precipice.”

This is by no means the limit of its haunts northward and westward; for besides being found in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, and the Faroe Isles, it actually visits Greenland, and on several occasions has been met with on the eastern coast of the United States, whither it must have travelled, doubtless, _viâ_ Greenland. A single instance is on record of its having been shot in the Bermudas,[122] although this group of islands is distant from Cape Hatteras—the nearest point of the North American coast—about 600 miles. After this, English sportsmen need scarcely be surprised at its ability to cross the Channel.