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 Illustration of Bank Swallow by Louis Agassiz Fuenes 
 
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Cornell University Library 
 
 QL 676.2B99 1910 
 
 The bird book / 
 
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Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022570455 
 
2>«****«««««« •««••«••«•««••••••••« o»««««« 
 
 THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 PICTURES OF BIRDS BY 
 
 W. FOSTER 
 
 6 
 
 CHATS ABOUT THEM BY 
 MAY BYRON 
 
 NEW EDITION 
 
 w 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HODDER & STOUGHTON 
 
If id 
 
 THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 THIS is a beautiful Dicky Bird Book — 
 If you just turn over the pages, 
 At lots of dear little friends you'll look, 
 Birds of all sorts and ages. 
 
 And some you know already quite well, 
 And some you won't know at present ; 
 
 But when you've heard what we have to tell. 
 You'll find them extremely pleasant. 
 
 And where they live we are going to show, 
 And their meals and how they eat them ; 
 
 You will find it all exactly so 
 If ever you happen to meet them. 
 
 So now, good-bye, and a merry time 
 With the folks in fluff and feather. 
 
 And a little wish for the end of our rhyme, 
 May you all be happy together ! 
 
The Blue Tit 
 
 THE Blue Tit, or Tom Tit, is the sauciest, pertest, and 
 perkiest, of all birds. It has been noticed, among human 
 beings, that the smaller men are, the more inclined to fight 
 and quarrel they are ; and certainly this is the case with this 
 daring little creature. He is quite fearless ; if you hang a bit 
 
 '^oster/f^^- 
 
 of suet, or a mutton bone upon a string outside your window 
 in Winter, the Tom Tit will come and swing upon it and not 
 mind you in the least. He is so quarrelsome that a man has 
 been known to capture two Blue Tits at once in his hand ; 
 they were so busy wrangling that they took no notice of him. 
 And if you put a hand into the nest when the hen bird is 
 sitting, she will hiss like a snake and peck hard at your 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 fingers : for which reason the Blue Tit has also got the name 
 of " Billy Biter." 
 
 His food is mostly insects, but he is very fond of meat, 
 and will hang round butchers* shops in the country, or about 
 dog-kennels outside houses, in the hope of picking up scraps. 
 Nothing frightens him ; not even if a gun is fired close by. 
 
 But this bravery is all for himself alone ; he takes the 
 very greatest care and trouble to construct a nest for his 
 children, so secret that nobody is ever likely to find it. A 
 hole in a wall, or in a decayed tree, is where the six or seven 
 eggs are usually laid. The birds have been known to carry 
 away to a distance the chips and bits that they have dug out 
 in making their nest, lest these should lead anybody to come 
 prying. But sometimes " Billy Biter " chooses an old flower- 
 pot, or a disused pump ; or even builds in the coping of a 
 railway station, with noisy trains passing all day close by. 
 The nest is made of moss, lined with hair, wool, and 
 feathers ; and the eggs, like all Tits' eggs, are white with 
 light-red speckles ; they are very small, as you might expect. 
 
 The Blue Tit is not much of a songster — none of the Tits 
 are — but he has some pleasing little odds and ends of notes, 
 little chirpy sounds so like talking that you can almost 
 understand what he is trying to say. 
 
 His bright blue-and-grcen colouring is very pretty ; and 
 in every way he is an interesting little bird, and most amus- 
 ing to watch : he is so active and so comical in his quick 
 jerky movements, and you will see him behaving like a little 
 acrobat, twisting and turning, and bobbing head-over-heels, 
 if you give him that bit of string with suet which I have 
 already mentioned. 
 
The Bullfinch 
 
 THE Bullfinch — so called from the large, thick, bull-like 
 appearance of its head and neck — is a beautiful bird, a 
 charming pet, and can be trained as a most pleasing singer ; 
 but he is not welcomed in gardens, because of his unfortunate 
 liking for blossom-buds. If not driven away, he will eat all 
 the buds off gooseberry, cherry, and plum trees, and this, of 
 course, spoils all hope of a fruit crop. The Bullfinch seems 
 to know that he has 
 been mischievous and 
 is in disgrace ; and, in 
 the nesting season, he 
 is very careful to keep 
 away in places where 
 
 his nest is not likely #'^\r^''^^''^^i--jjc:^-''*3^^|^/^ 
 to be found. He builds l^^^^^^^^y^^^^^T^ rw^^^ - -^ 
 it in a thick hawthorn .t^^i^.V^Wi, ,. ^"^^■^^^.•jF^Ii 
 
 hedge or some dense 
 bush, sometimes high 
 up in a fir tree ; it is 
 made of twigs and 
 roots and moss, rather loosely put together, and with a wool- 
 and-hair lining. The eggs are wonderfully pretty — pale 
 greenish-blue, with purple-red and light-red spots. 
 
 Bullfinches always go about in pairs or in small flocks : 
 you will hardly ever see one singly, they do not care to be 
 alone. If you should disturb them, one bird will fly away a 
 short distance, with a bounding, dipping flight, and then each 
 of the others will follow its movements exactly, one by one ; 
 it is quite a game of " Follow my Leader." 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 During the Winter, they live upon seeds of various sorts, 
 and pet Bullfinches are chiefly fed on hempseed ; but if they 
 are given too much their lovely plumage will turn black. Pet 
 Bullfinches — "Piping Bullfinches" as they are called — are 
 very tame and affectionate. They soon learn to know their 
 owners, and to come when called ; and never appear to wish 
 for freedom again, but are quite content where they are. 
 
 Their natural note is only a low, plaintive whistle or 
 call note ; but when caught and trained a Bullfinch easily 
 learns to sing little melodies, and even to repeat a whole 
 sentence of words. The way it is taught, is to shut it in a 
 dark room, and, before giving it food, to play the tune that it 
 is to learn on a clarionet, or an instrument called a bird-organ. 
 The bird soon learns to imitate the notes, and so picks up the 
 whole tune by degrees. 
 
 There is a story of a lady who saw a wild Bullfinch sitting 
 on her window-sill. She opened the window, but to her 
 surprise the bird did not move. She took it in her hand, and 
 it showed no wish to escape. She put it on the table, and it 
 sat there, and seemed as if it were ill and wanted help. She 
 found a seed was wedged in its throat, so she removed the 
 seed with a needle, and the bird became quite lively and 
 cheerful. But while the lady got ready a cage, the poor little 
 thing dashed at the window, supposing the glass to be open- 
 air, and struck the pane with such violence that it fell dead 
 upon the floor. 
 
Bullfinch 
 
The Song Thrush 
 
 THE Thrush is not a summer visitor, like the Nightingale 
 and other singing birds. It stays with us all the year 
 long: and you can see its speckled breast and hear its charming 
 song on a cold day in December, just as well as in the sun- 
 shine of May time. It does not feel gloomy in dark weather ; 
 
 :^:^ ''" 
 
 and its nest is built and finished long before most other birds 
 have even thought about theirs. This is the easiest of all 
 nests to find, because it is so large and round and solid 
 looking, and is placed in a low bush or hedge, or little tree, 
 before the leaves are grown. 
 
 The outside is a very clever basket-work of mossy roots 
 and twigs, with a thick rim round the top. Then there is a 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 layer of hard small pellets. Lastly, the hen Thrush lines the 
 whole inside of the nest, either with mud or with a sort 
 of cement made from decayed wood, which she kneads with 
 her beak, and moulds with her breast, until it sets hard and is 
 as smooth and round as a cup. All this care in building is 
 in order that the young birds should be sheltered from the 
 cold winds which blow in March and early April. 
 
 If you find a Thrush sitting on her beautiful blue-green 
 brown-speckled eggs, she will hardly move : she will let you 
 stroke her soft plumage, but she sits close. This may bd 
 because Thrushes are accustomed to human beings ; all the 
 Winter, when they cannot get snails, grubs, caterpillars, 
 insects, and earth-worms, they come round houses as Robins 
 do, and sometimes they even become so tame as to feed out 
 of one's hand. A Thrush that I know of, will walk up and 
 down the lawn with the mistress of the garden much as 
 a cat might, and will come about the door looking for her. 
 It brings up its young ones to be just as fearless, and to 
 follow their friend about the garden paths. 
 
 The Song Thrush prefers snails to any other food ; 
 it chooses a stone for an anvil, and smashes the snail-shell 
 upon it. You may often find the ground quite strewed with 
 broken shells where a Thrush has been at work. 
 
 Later on, unfortunately, the bird grows much too greedy 
 after ripe fruit ; and when the gardener sees his strawberries, 
 currants, gooseberries, and cherries disappear, or showing 
 great bites in them, he forgets all the usefulness of the Thrush 
 in ridding his garden of snails. 
 
 Still, taking it altogether, the Thrush may be considered 
 one of the very best birds that we have. 
 
The Wood Pigeon 
 
 THE Wood Pigeon, or Ringdove, is well known to all 
 country folk. He is a fine handsome bird, with his blue- 
 grey wings and the green and purple colours about his neck. 
 He also looks very clean and spick and span ; and as he likes to 
 bathe in water as often as possible this is not surprising. He 
 
 does not drink as other birds do, in short sips, but puts his 
 beak right in and takes one long draught. Nor does he feed 
 his young ones in the usual way, by dropping food into their 
 mouths. The old birds have a crop, or sort of pocket in the 
 throat, where the nestlings' food is more or less reduced to 
 pulp ; and they allow the nestlings to help themselves by 
 
THE 3IRD BOOK 
 
 putting their little beaks into the parent birds' mouths. One 
 reason of this is, probably, that the Wood Pigeon lives upon 
 such very hard food — hard seeds, ^uch as beans and peas, and 
 nuts, such as beech-nuts and acorns — which need softening 
 before they are fit for the tender young birds. 
 
 The nest is one of the poorest you could find : just a few 
 sticks loosely thrown together upon a branch of some Fir 
 or Oak tree. It is so thin and untidy that you can often see 
 the eggs or young birds through the chinks from below, and 
 it is quite a marvel that the two white eggs do not roll out 
 when storms rock the bough or schoolboys climb it. The old 
 verse about the Wood Pigeon says : — " Coo I coo ! coo ! Me 
 and my poor two ! Two sticks across and a little bit of moss, 
 and it will do, do, do." And this is a very good description 
 — except that the little bit of moss is not there as a rule. The 
 cooing or crooning of the Wood Pigeon is one of the 
 pleasantest of Summer sounds ; you hear it far off among the 
 woods, a soft, low, drowsy murmur ; and though some people 
 think it sad, it really seems to mean great happiness and 
 content. 
 
 These birds have long powerful wings, and can fly far and 
 fast. They make a very loud flapping and clapping when 
 they begin their flight, which often startles one considerably. 
 They are, when wild, very shy and cautious. But if the 
 young birds should be taken from the nest and reared by 
 hand, they grow up much more tame and aff^ectionate than 
 ordinary pet Pigeons. They will nestle into one's neck 
 lovingly, and coo, perched upon one's shoulder ; and I have 
 known one whose great amusement was to strut up and down 
 admiring himself before his own lovely reflection in a mantel- 
 piece mirror. 
 
Tfie 
 Wood 
 
 eon 
 
The Kingfisher 
 
 /^F all British birds the Kingfisher is beyond doubt the 
 ^^ most beautiful, as far as bright colour goes. With its 
 sea-green and peacock-blue and orange-red, it is more like some 
 tropical bird, so that it is quite startling to see it flash like a 
 bit of flying rain- 
 bow across some 
 quiet English 
 pool or stream. 
 It is not a com- 
 mon bird, but 
 most people who 
 watch birds have 
 seen it at least 
 once. It sits 
 upon a stump or 
 stone, overhang- 
 ing water, and 
 waits till some 
 unsuspecting lit- 
 tle fish comes 
 by. Then it "^ 
 
 darts head foremost into the water, captures its prey with its 
 long powerful beak, kills the fish with a blow or two, and 
 swallows it whole. Sometimes the Kingfisher does not stop 
 to think whether its prize can be swallowed whole, and the 
 bird has been found dead before now with a too-large minnow 
 stuck in its throat. 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 The nest is laid at the end of a little tunnel about two 
 feet Pong, sloping upward, which the bird has scooped out with 
 its beak in the bank of some river or other water. It is not 
 much of a nest — merely a hole lined with fish-bones. This 
 lining is about as large as a tea-saucer, and half-an-inch 
 thick. Here the hen Kingfisher, who is duller and smaller 
 than her mate, lays some six or seven eggs, glossy white and 
 nearly round. 
 
 There used to be a notion in olden times that the King- 
 fisher, or Halcyon, as it was then called, had a floating nest. 
 The story was that the bird built this nest on land, of bits of 
 shell, mud, and fish-bones, and when it had tried it several 
 times, to see that the affair was safe and did not leak, the 
 Kingfisher laid its eggs in the floating nursery and launched 
 out upon the sea. Immediately the wind would fall, no 
 matter how rough it had been just before, and the sea would 
 become quite smooth and the sky blue and sunny ; and this 
 delightful state of things would last for fourteen days until 
 the eggs were hatched, while the Halcyon drifted to and fro. 
 And these days werp called Halcyon days, an expression 
 which is still used to mean calm and peaceful times. 
 
 The Kingfisher sometimes goes down tidal rivers and 
 dives after little fish and shrimps in the salt water, and here 
 it frequently hovers in the air like a Kestrel before shooting 
 down. It has no song, only a wild shrill cry. Very 
 brilliantly-coloured birds never do sing: they have to be 
 content with their magnificent colours ; while plain-looking 
 birds, like the Nightingale, Thrush, and Blackcap, have their 
 voices to make up for their want of beauty. 
 
The Pied Wagtail 
 
 THE Wagtail family, of which this is the commonest, do 
 not hop : they run very fast and then wag their tails with 
 a quick vibrating movement : then they peck at an insect and 
 wag their tails again. If they fly it is with a curious dipping 
 flight and very low down. The Pied Wagtail frequents little 
 streams and pools, running along by the water's edge after 
 flies, and sometimes wading right in after caddis-worms or 
 other grubs. It spurts and flirts the water about with its 
 
 wagging tail, and from this it has got the names of Polly 
 Dishwasher and Nanny Wagtail. It is, in colour and appear- 
 ance, rather like a very small, slim, graceful Magpie. 
 
 There could not be found a friendlier, more sociable little 
 bird. It delights to run on in front of the traveller down 
 some country lane, stop, and almost wait for him, flirting its 
 tail and looking round at him in a merry little manner ; then, 
 when he is close upon it, running off once more and waiting 
 for him a little further on. There is no doubt that many 
 birds are really fond of being with human beings, and if it 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 were not for the cruelty of people who rob nests, and 
 people who throw stones, no doubt all birds would be tanier 
 than they are. 
 
 The Wagtail's nest is made of dry grass and moss and 
 dead roots, old bents and withered leaves, and lined with 
 wool, hair, and feathers. Although these are light and dry 
 materials, the nest is a compact and solid one. It is placed 
 in all sorts of nooks and corners, a hole in a shed wall, or in 
 a bank ; among many stones, or in the hollow of a tree ; 
 sometimes on the outside of a heap of sticks, or in thatch, or 
 on the end of a haystack. Any place seems as good as any 
 other to the Wagtail, and, as not much care is taken to hide 
 the nest, it is very often discovered by the Cuckoo, and a 
 Cuckoo's egg laid there. The Wagtail's own eggs are rather 
 like a House Sparrow's— bluish-white, with ash-coloured spots 
 and lines. 
 
 When the young Wagtails are fledged they run about all 
 together in the prettiest way. Where cows are feeding near 
 water, they will run in and out between the cows' legs, quite 
 fearlessly, hunting flies. The parent birds, meanwhile, fly to 
 and fro just overhead, coming down every now and then to 
 feed their children with insects — each little one in its turn. 
 
 The Wagtail has a few sweet little notes, hardly to be 
 called a song, but very pleasant. He, like the Swallow, is 
 able to warn the other birds when a Hawk is near, and will 
 even help them to drive it away. For although a Hawk 
 may seize and eat a small bird, if he can get it unawares and 
 alone, when a crowd of them set at him, as they often do, he 
 is scared and makes haste to escape. 
 
■*"<s ';' 
 
 Pied 
 Wagtail j 
 
The Barn Ow^l 
 
 'nr^HE Barn Owl is never to be seen by day. He is dozing 
 A and blinking in his private hole, in some large hollow 
 tree or old ivied wall. But when the sun has set, you may 
 just manage to see him skimming silently to and fro in the 
 twilight, for indeed he 
 is so light-coloured, so 
 swift and so noiseless 
 that you can scarcely 
 hear his wings or see 
 his shape. The reason 
 that he gets about so 
 softly is because the 
 little field-mice, which 
 he is trying to catch, 
 are very quick in their 
 movements and very 
 sharp of hearing : so 
 that if the Owl is to 
 catch them at all, he 
 must take them un- 
 awares. 
 
 The Barn Owl is really quite a little bird, though he looks 
 so big ; he is nearly all feathers, very thick and soft. These 
 feathers not only keep him warm in the cold night air, but 
 help to give him that noiseless flight. In some ways he is 
 very like a cat with thick soft fur. His face is large and 
 round and cat-like, so are his eyes ; so are his mouse-hunting 
 habits and silent movements ; and if he should be fright- 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 ened or annoyed, he snaps his beak and makes a hissing 
 sound as an angry cat does. 
 
 The Barn Owl builds a rough sort of nest, in the place 
 that he has chosen, for dozing in by day : generally a church 
 tower, dovecot, or ivied ruin. There his mate lays her round 
 white eggs ; and when the young ones are first hatched, they 
 are the queerest, ugliest little creatures imaginable. They 
 make horrid snoring and hissing noises whenever they want 
 food, which is always ; and the father and mother are kept 
 hard at work fetching mice — sometimes as much as a mouse 
 every five minutes — for their greedy little family. They also 
 bring beetles, and fish, if they can get any by pouncing on 
 them in the water : and, in fact, it is easy to see why the Barn 
 Owl is so tired and sleepy by day. Anybody would be, who 
 had been out hunting all night long. 
 
 The cry of the Owl is soft and strange, like himself — 
 "Tu-whit I tu-whoo!" Sometimes he cries "Kiaw!" in a 
 sort of song of triumph, when he has caught a fat field-mouse. 
 He is a gallant fighting bird, and will, if attacked, throw 
 himself on his back and defend himself with beak and claws. 
 The baby owls are able to do this when they are only a few 
 weeks old. 
 
The Robin Redbreast 
 
 THIS pleasing and affectionate little bird is a great 
 favourite in all countries. Everybody knows his round, 
 plump little figure, his beautiful red breast, his slender legs 
 and beak, and his cheerful, friendly manner. 
 
 He is the only bird 
 that seems naturally 
 tame, and fond of man, 
 and happier in the society 
 of human beings than 
 with his own bird com- 
 panions. 
 
 In Summer one does 
 not see so much of him, 
 because he is busy rearing 
 his young ; but when he 
 sings that pretty chirp- 
 ing song upon leafless 
 boughs in the Autumn, 
 as he watches the gar- 
 dener digging up the 
 ground, he is a welcome 
 and familiar figure. And 
 when he comes in Winter-time, tapping at the window for 
 crumbs, the Robin appears to be quite one of the family, 
 and expects to be treated as such. Some Robins, indeed, are 
 so tame that they will come into a room and hop about on 
 the table : they seem to know that nobody will harm them. 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 Even a cat, if she kills a Robin, must do so by mistake, for 
 she will not eat it afterwards. 
 
 There is an old saying ; " The Robin and Wren are God's 
 cock and hen ; " and oddly enough, the Robin loves to be 
 inside a Church : he will go in and out as if he were at home, 
 and sing while the organ is playing. He is, indeed, extremely 
 fond of music, and I have known a Robin who used to sit 
 upon a honeysuckle spray outside a window, every day, 
 listening while a girl inside practised the piano ; and another 
 who used actually to walk in through the scullery and kitchen, 
 and up a long dark passage, that he might sit on the top of the 
 piano while it was being played ! 
 
 He has the strangest ideas about nest-building. There is 
 no place too queer or too unlikely for Master Robin to fix on. 
 A hole in a bank or wall, or at the foot of a tree, is his usual 
 choice. But he will be quite content with an old hat, a 
 basket, a flower-pot, an old bee-hive, the top of the pump ; 
 and there he and his wife arrange dry leaves, and bents, and 
 make a lining of hair and moss, to hold their five small eggs. 
 A great many people think that Robins' nests are high in 
 trees, with blue eggs in them, but as a matter of fact, they 
 are always in a hollow of some sort, well hidden, and the eggs 
 are spotted all over with red. 
 
 The Robin's usual food is worms and insects ; still, as you 
 know, when these are scarce, he is very glad of crumbs. His 
 cheery Autumn song has been already mentioned : it is all 
 the sweeter in the dark days when other birds are silent. But 
 he also has a charming little song in Spring, as though to 
 thank the folks who have given him food and shelter through 
 the winter. 
 
Robin 
 Redbreast 
 
The Heron 
 
 ALTHOUGH the Heron is so large a bird — three feet long 
 from its beak to the tip of its tail, and four and a half feet 
 between the wing tips — it is wonderfully light, only weighing 
 three and a half pounds. This enables it to fly very high, 
 and to go long distances. 
 Another odd thing 
 about it is, that though 
 it spends half its time 
 standing up to its knees 
 in water, it cannot dive. 
 And although it will 
 swim in deep water to 
 get at something it very 
 much wants — such as a 
 water rat, or a nest of 
 young moor-hens — as a 
 rule it does not swim at 
 all, and most people 
 think it cannot. 
 
 The Heron builds 
 high in trees — a great 
 many "birds live in a 
 colony together, as 
 Rooks do. Sometimes 
 
 there are as many as eighty nests in one tree. They are 
 great flat masses of sticks, a yard across, lined with grass 
 and other soft stuff, and containing five eggs — sea-blue or 
 sea-green, whichever you choose to call the colour. 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 From these nests the Herons go out fishing. They will 
 fly at the least fifty miles to find food for themselves and 
 their young. It is a common thing to see this tall and 
 stately bird, with his long legs and plumed head, standing 
 quite motionless in the shallow reedy water at a river's edge, 
 or in the mud of a tidal stream. He is so stiff and ?o still 
 that you begin to get tired of watching him, when, suddenly, 
 down shoots his long beak into the water, and he seizes a 
 small fish and swallows it head foremost, or, if it is too large 
 to swallow at once, he flies back home with it. The saying : 
 "All is fish that comes to his net," is very true in the case of 
 a Heron ; for he is just as well pleased with frogs, shrimps, 
 newts, water beetles, water rats, and indeed with whatever he 
 can get. 
 
 The Heron has a harsh grating cry, with which it warns 
 any other birds who may be near, either on land or water, if 
 any danger should be approaching, for ft can see to a very 
 great distance. 
 
 In olden days. Herons were considered very precious 
 birds. They were hunted with Hawks by the rich folk, and 
 if any one should steal a young Heron from the nest, he was 
 fined ten shillings, which then was worth more like ten 
 pounds. Only men of royal or noble family were allowed to 
 wear Heron plumes, and in fact, the Heronries were "pre- 
 served " and protected by much stricter laws than those which 
 are at present made to take care of Partridges and Pheasants. 
 But now-a-days, nobody takes much interest in the splendid 
 Heron ; and perhaps he is happier as he is. It was all very 
 well for the people who hunted him, but the Heron can 
 hardly have enjoyed it himself. 
 
T he Heron ) 
 
 ^j 
 
The Kittiwake Gull 
 
 THIS curious and pretty name is taken from the cry which 
 the bird makes, when it has a nest and eggs, if it sees any 
 stranger approaching. It 
 
 IS 
 
 not the ordinary Seagull, 
 which comes up to the London 
 bridges in Winter to be fed ; 
 but in many parts of the coast, 
 where there are high cliffs, 
 the Kittiwake is just as com- 
 mon. It wants the high cliffs 
 for nesting in : it supposes 
 them to be safe . from any 
 chance of .harm coming to its 
 young. 
 
 The nest, which is sea- 
 weed like that of most sea 
 birds, is placed upon some 
 narrow rocky ledge of the cliff 
 face, and the three eggs are 
 usually stone-coloured, spot- 
 ted with grey and brown ; and 
 it is not a solitary nest, such 
 as singing birds make, but 
 one of a large number all near 
 together. The young birds 
 remain in their lofty perch 
 until they are well able to fly ; 
 then they go down into the 
 
 
 ^ 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 water with their parents, to hunt for the small fish that swim 
 near the surface. 
 
 And on the water they stay: you hardly ever see a 
 Kittiwake sitting on land or flying over it : quite different 
 from the common gulls, who love to follow the plough along 
 with Rooks and Jackdaws. The Kittiwake, in fact, is entirely 
 a sea bird, and the open sea is all that it cares about : it does 
 not even like creeks or tidal rivers. 
 
 It has a very graceful flight, and a soft delicate colouring, 
 soft blue-greys and whites, like the blue-grey and white of the 
 waves. When Autumn comes, it takes its family southward, 
 and stays upon warmer coasts until the Spring ; then they all 
 fly back to the cliffs they came from, and start the nest- 
 building once more. 
 
 Although the Kittiwake and other birds with rocky nests 
 believe themselves so safe, their nests do get occasionally 
 robbed. Men let each other down by ropes from the cliff" 
 tops, and collect eggs in handfuls ; or some daring boy climbs 
 down, hand over hand, and fills his pockets. 
 
 But this is a dangerous thing to do, and on the whole the sea 
 birds are let alone : you will very rarely see a Kittiwake's egg 
 in any schoolboy's collection. Some eggs, as you may know, 
 are so rare that there are only very few in the world : like the 
 egg of the Great Auk (a sea bird which does not exist now-a- 
 days), which is valued at hundreds of pounds. 
 
The Magpie 
 
 A MAGPIE'S nest is a regular robber castle. It is a very 
 large and prickly building, set in the upper branch of a 
 high tree, or in the thickest thorn bush in the neighbourhood. 
 It consists, first, of thorns and briars ; next, an inner wall of 
 twigs and mud ; inside 
 is a lining of fibrous 
 roots and hair. There 
 is a domed top, and a 
 very small hole in the 
 side, like a postern gate, 
 to let the bird in and 
 out of the castle. And 
 the whole thing is fenced 
 round and arched over 
 by a network of thorny 
 sticks. The eggs are 
 dirty green, with brown- 
 ish-grey markings ; and 
 when they are hatched, 
 they become, as has 
 been said, so many 
 young ogres, all greedy 
 for stolen food. 
 
 The Magpie has a bad character, and there is no doubt 
 that he deserves it. He much prefers stealing things to 
 getting them in a lawful, honest way ; and he is never happy 
 without some hiding place in which to stow away his stolen 
 goods. He steals eggs, to begin with — eggs of every sort and 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 size ; he steals the young birds, even those of Partridges and 
 Pheasants. He steals young chickens and ducklings, young 
 hares and rabbits, ripe fruits and grain ; and if there is any 
 way of stealing rats, mice, frogs, snails, worms, and grubs, it 
 is certain that he will find that way. As nobody can get at 
 his nest without a frightful scratching and pricking, he is safe 
 to carry on his thievish habits. 
 
 This is when he is wild and at liberty, but he becomes 
 even worse when he is tamed. Then he will pick up all sorts 
 of things — they may be trifles, or they may be valuables — and 
 cunningly stow them away in some secret place. Thimbles, 
 coins, rings and brooches, keys, papers and letters — there is 
 nothing safe from mischievous " Mag." And his chattering, 
 though at first amusing, soon becomes noisy and tiresome : 
 in short, he turns out by no means so desirable a pet as 
 people thought him at first. 
 
 ,There is an old story of how the birds went to the 
 Magpie to learn how to build nests. He said, " You must 
 first find a good strong forked branch, and begin by laying 
 two sticks crosswise on it." The Rook said, "That's just 
 what I did." " Next, you n;iust raise the sides, and work 
 some hay well in among the sticks." "Just what I have 
 done," said the Crow. "And now, for fear the eggs should 
 get broken or thrown out, you must make the sides about as 
 high as your head when you sit in the bottom of the nest, and 
 put in some soft wool." " Why, I did all that before I 
 came," said the Thrush. "Oh, well," said the Magpie, "as 
 you all seem to know how to make nests, there's no need 
 for me to teach you." And that is why the other birds can 
 only build half nests. 
 
The CucKoo 
 
 EVERYONE is glad to hear the Cuckoo's cry: it is one 
 sign that Spring is here at last. There are all manner 
 of old sayings about him ; in fact, thp Cuckoo has been more 
 talked about and written about, perhaps, than any other bird. 
 " In April, come he will," says one verse ; " In May, he 
 sings all day ; in June, he's out of tune ; in July, he does not 
 
 fly ; in August, go he must." And another old verse tells us, 
 " The Cuckoo is a bonny bird, he sings as he flies, he brings 
 us good tidings, and tells us no lies." But though he is 
 undoubtedly a particularly bonny bird, with his beautiful 
 brown and white stripings and blue-grey wings, and although 
 his " good tidings " of Spring are always welcome, he is not 
 an amiable bird by any means : he is a lazy and a greedy 
 one. 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 The Cuckoo is the only bird which will not take the 
 trouble to build itself a nest, or to rear its young. It does 
 not care what becomes of its children. It lays its egg in 
 some other bird's nest, where there are eggs already ; and 
 leaves it to be hatched and brought up there. For the most 
 part it chooses easily get-at-able nests, such as those of the 
 Hedge-sparrow, Redstart, Whitethroat, Skylark, Chaffinch, 
 Greenfinch, Linnet, and Meadow Pipit, but especially the 
 last. But sometimes it will lay its egg first, and then carry 
 it in its bill to a nest which it cannot well reach otherwise. 
 
 The Meadow Pipit, knowing by instinct what is likely to 
 happen if the Cuckoo discovers his nursery, follows the big 
 bird about all over the country. If the hen Cuckoo perches, 
 so does the Pipit : if she alights on the ground, so does the 
 Pipit : if she flies to and fro in the fields, the Pipit is behind 
 her all the while. But sooner or later, when the hen Pipit 
 happens to be away a minute, the Cuckoo lays an egg — white, 
 with ash-brown speckles — in the Pipit's little grass-built 
 dwelling under some tuft of grass or heather, among the 
 Pipit's eggs, which are white with brown mottlings. And, as 
 birds cannot count, the hen Pipit is no wiser when she comes 
 home and finds five eggs where she left four. 
 
 When the little Pipits and the young Cuckoo are hatched, 
 the Cuckoo eats all the food that the parents bring : the little 
 Pipits become weak and starved, and presently the young 
 Cuckoo shoves them all out of the nest by hoisting them over 
 with his back, and they fall outside and die. Then he fills 
 lip the whole nest with his great fat form ; and when he is 
 fledged and able to fly, he sits on a fence, and the Meadow 
 Pipits continue to bring him food, until he grows tired of 
 insects and small seeds, and goes off at last to find beetles and 
 caterpillars for himself. 
 
The Wren 
 
 ALTHOUGH this is a shy, dull-coloured, quiet little bird, 
 it is always spoken of with love and kindness, and 
 called by pet names — Jenny Wren, Kitty Wren, and so on. 
 
 And it is also always mentioned along 
 with the Robin, as though it were really 
 the Robin's mate, as in the nursery lines 
 about Cock-Robin's wedding. In some 
 places they say that "Whoso kills a 
 Robin or Wren, shall never prosper — 
 boy nor man." 
 
 But the Wren is in no respect like 
 the Robin : it does not seek for human 
 society, nor, indeed, does it care to keep 
 company either with its own species or 
 with other birds. It hops about in hedges, 
 lonely and rather dreary, hunting for in- 
 sects, and uttering a simple little call, 
 " Chip, chip." It is only in the spring 
 that the Wren becomes at all remarkable, 
 and then it shows a most amazing skill. 
 
 In March it sings a very charming 
 song, much fuller, louder and more 
 powerful than one would expect from so 
 tiny a bird ; and a little later on it begins 
 to build its nests — not nest. One is not 
 nearly enough for Jenny Wren. 
 
 The Wren always chooses its ma- 
 terials to match exactly, outside, the 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 place where the nest is built. If it is on a mossy bank, 
 the outside will be moss ; if under the root of a tree, of 
 twigs and dead leaves ; if in a haystack, of hay ; if among ivy, 
 of green moss ; if under thatch, of reedy materials. But if 
 there should be no special reason otherwise, most Wrens' 
 nests are made of dry leaves, with moss inside, and a thick 
 lining of fine moss and feathers. It is a very large nest for 
 the size of the bird; and is beautifully made, warm and com- 
 pact ; having a round dome, and a tiny doorway in the side. 
 And here, you might suppose, Jenny will lay from six to six- 
 teen of her white, reddish spotted eggs. But no: if one 
 single leaf is displaced upon the outside of the nest, or if the 
 Wrens find the slightest sign of someone having been there, 
 they start again and make another nest. Sometimes, while 
 the hen is sitting, the cock bird builds five or six nests near 
 the first, not half so carefully concealed as the first : I suppose 
 to draw away attention from it. The Wren often seems to 
 take fright before the nest is finished, and leaves it and begins 
 another : a surprising number of unfinished Wrens' nests are 
 to be found. But one thing is certain: if you even, put a 
 finger through the tiny doorway in the side, the Wren will 
 know and will desert at once. It seems a great pity, after the 
 enormous care and trouble that it has expended upon con- 
 structing this beautiful home. But the Wren is shy in this as 
 in all things, and desires not to be noticed either by friends or 
 strangers : it is an odd little bird in every way. 
 
7he Wren 
 
 ^ 
 
The Moor=Hen 
 
 THIS is a very common bird, to be seen in rushy ponds 
 and reedy rivers, and has perhaps more ways of getting 
 about than any other bird. It can swim very fast and grace- 
 fully, constantly nodding its little scarlet-fronted head ; it can 
 also swim under water. It can dive with great skill, and 
 remain beneath the surface for as long as it chooses, with 
 nothing but its beak showing above water ; it can run at a 
 great rate on land, when it continually flaps up its tail and 
 shows the white feathers underneath. Besides this, it likes 
 to roost in low bushes ; it can perch in trees, and it has a 
 wonderfully clever knack of walking or climbing along 
 branches. 
 
 The nest is always low down, among sedges or coarse 
 grasses, or on a bough overlying the water : it is very large, 
 made of rushes and dry flags. The eggs are stone colour, 
 spotted with orange-brown* The Moor-hen is an anxious 
 mother, for she knows how many dangers surround her. If 
 she has to leave her nest awhile, she covers the eggs with 
 dried grass and reeds, so that the rats may not find them. 
 She cannot prevent a sudden rise of the river sweeping her 
 
 ^-^1^*W 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 nest away ; but she and her mate have been known to carry 
 away the eggs when a flood was rising, and to hatch them in 
 some safer place. The little Moor-hens, when they break the 
 egg, are like little tufts of black down. The old birds at once 
 carry them in their claws to the water, and teach them to 
 swim and dive. Sometimes a second nest is built near the 
 first, close to the water : a sort of night nursery, to hold some 
 of the brood if they are too big or too many for the first nest, 
 until they can fly well enough to sleep with their parents 
 in a tree. 
 
 It is the prettiest sight in the world to see a Moor-hen 
 swimming about, followed by her six or eight little black 
 babies, and calling them with her curious note. This sound 
 is between a bark and a croak, a harsh " Krook ! Krook ! " — 
 once you have heard it you will always know it again. Even 
 as the young birds grow bigger, however, they have to be 
 watched and guarded ; for the hungry pike is their deadly 
 enemy, and will lie in wait and rush up at them from under 
 the water-lily leaves, and swallow one at a mouthful. 
 
 The Moor-hen feeds, by nature, on insects, seeds, and 
 snails. But, oddly enough, though it is such a wild and 
 timid little bird — always ready to hide — it sometimes becomes 
 almost tame, and will even come to be fed along with ordinary 
 farmyard fowls. This is generally when its pond is near a 
 house or farm ; and it will then often make itself a little too 
 bold, by helping itself to the tenderest vegetables in the 
 kitchen garden : but of course these must be a nice change 
 from its usual diet of water insects. 
 
The Kestrel 
 
 THIS is the commonest of all hawks, and one of the hand- 
 somest. It is also called the Windhover, because of 
 the way it can hang poised in the air, very high, with its head 
 turned to the wind. It is apparently quite still, but in reality 
 its wings are beating all the time, moving very regularly and 
 evenly, like a machine. It is watching from up aloft — for it has 
 wonderfully long and sharp sight — the movements of small 
 creatures far down below upon the ground — little field-mice 
 
 and lizards creeping out of their holes, or frogs hopping out 
 of ponds. And presently it will swoop down, and carry off 
 one of them and eat it. 
 
 The Kestrel is very useful to the farmer, because it devours 
 the beetles which gnaw away his roots, and the caterpillars 
 which attack his leaves, and the field-mice which nibble his 
 grain. It also eats worms and grasshoppers. But in the 
 Winter, when it cannot find these animals, it is obliged to 
 hunt and eat little birds ; and in early Spring, when the first 
 chickens are hatched, it will sometimes try to carry off a little 
 one right from under the mother's beak. But a good mother 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 hen will fight hard for her chick, flapping and pecking : and 
 often the Kestrel is driven away without the prize he had 
 expected. 
 
 The Kestrel builds in cliffs, in high trees, and among 
 ruins ; most often he makes use of the deserted nest of a Mag- 
 pie or Crow. Sometimes, however, they nest in buildings : I 
 have known of one Kestrel who chose to place his dwelling in 
 the ivy above a doctor's hall door! The eggs are reddish- 
 white, blotched with reddish-brown ; and if a young bird 
 should be taken from the nest and reared by hand, it becomes 
 exceedingly tame and affectionate. Indeed, a tame Kestrel is 
 a most amusing pet ; and even if it is set free^ it will continue 
 to come back to the house where it has lived, both to be fed, 
 and to enjoy the company of its friends, the people there. 
 
 Kestrels sometimes carry off quite uneatable things by 
 mistake. A little boy in the country once lost his purse in a 
 hayfield about a mile from home. He searched long and 
 hard, but could not find it. About six months later, he saw 
 a Kestrel come down in the heather near his garden gate, and 
 try to tear up something which it held in its beak. The little 
 boy ran and shouted, and the bird dropped its plunder and 
 soared away. It had been stopped from making a very indi- 
 gestible meal, for there was the little boy's purse, all weather- 
 stained and mildewed, with the rusty coins inside! The 
 Kestrel's sharp eyes had found it. 
 
The Sivallow 
 
 'TpHE Swallow is perhaps more the friend of man than any 
 ■■■ other bird except the Robin Redbreast. And while the 
 
 Robin is more or less a sign of 
 Winter, and you always think 
 of him along with Christmas 
 and cold weather, the Swallow 
 is a sign of Spring, and of all the 
 happiness it brings — warmth, 
 and light, and budding fruits 
 and flowers. In the same way, 
 too, as the Robin plainly prefers 
 the society of human beings to 
 that of its feathered friends, the 
 Swallow does not wish to nest 
 except in houses built by men. 
 The same pair of Swallows are 
 supposed to return, year after 
 year, to the same nest, and the 
 people in the house are delighted 
 to see them return : it is almost 
 as if some of the family had come 
 back after being away all the 
 Winter. 
 
 Everyone knows the Swallow 
 by sight — its forked tail, blue- 
 black wings, and arrow-like 
 flight — as it swoops to and fro, 
 catching insects upon the wing. 
 And everyone knows its nest made of mud, worked into 
 shape with bits of straw or grass, and having a feather 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 lining. The eggs are white, speckled with brown and dark 
 red. When the nestlings can only just fly, the Swallows 
 get them out of the nest and try to teach them how to use 
 their wings. I have seen a family of young Swallows all 
 seated in a row upon the rafter running across the verandah. 
 They had been moved there from their nest, which was under 
 the roof; and the old birds were feeding them, and giving 
 them lessons in flying. And a very awkward, clumsy, 
 floppy-fluttering business they made of it to begin with : 
 they were as uncertain as a baby learning to walk. They 
 certainly liked the refreshment part the best, when their 
 parents popped flies into their open bills. 
 
 The Swallows' life is all Summer, because directly their 
 Summer here is ended, they go back to Africa and land? 
 where there is no Winter at all. They cannot sing ; but the 
 twittering they make, when they assemble together in flocks 
 ready for flight, is very musical and pretty. They seem to 
 talk over their plans, and decide what road they shall take, 
 for many days before they really start. Nothing in the world 
 is more wonderful than the coming and going of the Swallows, 
 and the hundreds and thousands of miles that they must 
 travel, high up in air — without a guide, without a map, and 
 with all their new families to take along with them. 
 
 You must not confuse the Swallow with the House Martin 
 or Window Swallow, which builds under the eaves. They 
 are very much alike in most things ; but the Martin has much 
 more white on its breast and back, and a shorter tail, than 
 the Swallow. Also, he builds under eaves ; but the Swallow 
 prefers darker and drier places — right under roofs or a few 
 feet down chimneys. Both these birds are remarkable for 
 being able suddenly to change their course, in its rapidest 
 flight, by a very slight, quick motion of the wings and tail. 
 
The Green WoodpecKer 
 
 THIS is a real country bird, which you are not likely to 
 see near towns. It is only in woods or among large 
 trees that you will hear its wild, strange laugh, arid tap-tap- 
 tap upon the tree trunk ; or catch a glimpse of its splendid 
 
 green plumage as it runs up and 
 down the tree. It is hunting for the 
 insects upon which it lives ; and 
 wherever it can tell, by the sound of 
 the bark, that there is a hollow and 
 decayed part underneath, it knows 
 that there will be insects in that 
 hollow part, and it tears off the bark 
 and gets at them. 
 
 The Woodpecker is exactly made 
 for this tapping, climbing life. It has 
 very sharp, hooked toes, by which it 
 climbs ; its tail is very short for its 
 size, and very stiff, which also helps 
 it; and its breast-bone is unusually 
 flat, so that it can be pressed close 
 against the tree trunk. Its beak is 
 particularly long and strong, and its 
 tongue is so long that it will draw 
 out in an india-rubbery fashion, far 
 beyond the end of its beak. It has 
 also a sharp horny tip with bristles, 
 by which insects can be drawn out 
 of the deepest holes. 
 
 The Woodpecker has no nest ; 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 it finds a hole in a tree, and digs it a little deeper — that is 
 all. Upon the soft decayed wood inside, its glossy white 
 eggs are laid — four to seven in number. It is a curious 
 fact that the birds of brightest colour, such as the Wood- 
 pecker and Kingfisher, have pure white eggs ; while quite 
 insignificant little birds like the Hedge-sparrow have eggs 
 of the most wonderful blue. 
 
 There is, I should say, no bird whatever that possesses so 
 many names as the Green Woodpecker. It is called " Yafiler " 
 and " Yaffingale," from its laughing cry ; Rain-bird, or Rain- 
 fowl, because it is said to sound this cry when rain is coming ; 
 Hew-hole, Pick-a-tree, and Awl-bird, because of its pecking 
 and digging ; Popinjay, Woodwall, Woodsprite, and half a 
 dozen other names besides. 
 
 This bird is very fond of ants, and may be sometimes 
 observed upon the ground hunting for them. It has a bad 
 name for destroying old trees by making holes in therti, but it 
 really is destroying the insects which prey upon these trees. 
 And as it only works upon decayed parts, the woodman might 
 easily learn from the Woodpecker which trees are becoming 
 unsafe, and need attending to. There are other birds that feed 
 upon tree insects, such as the Wryneck, Nuthatch, and Tree- 
 Creeper. These all, as has been already said, are birds which 
 can only be observed in woodlands, and very interesting they 
 are to watch. 
 
The Long=Tailed Tit 
 
 THE Long-tailed Tit, although he is only about five-and-a 
 half inches long (at least* half of which is tail), is re- 
 markable for three things. In the first place, for the number 
 of names that he goes by — Bottte Tom, Poke Pudding, Huck- 
 Muck, Rum-Muffin, and half a dozen other extraordinary 
 titles. The second curious thing about him is his nest. It is 
 perhaps the most beautiful of all British nests — like a large 
 bottle-shaped cocoon of white lichen, fine wool, moss, and 
 
 ^^ff$\ 
 
 spiders' web, with a soft feather lining inside. Nothing 
 warmer or prettier could be thought of. It takes the cock and 
 hen birds about three weeks to make it. The hole by which 
 they go in and out is hardly big enough for a man's thumb ; 
 and how the mother, with her long tail, and from ten to 
 eighteen young birds, manage to live in this small space, is so 
 strange that one can hardly believe it. This nest is usually 
 hung from the under side of a large branch, or the bough of a 
 furze bush. The eggs are very small and delicate — ^white, 
 slightly speckled with light red. They have such a thin shell 
 that the yolk shows through, and gives them a pinkish look. 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 The third peculiar thing about the Long-tailed Tit is, that 
 he is a family bird. He does not care to live in colonies, like 
 some of his friends ; but father, mother, and young brood all 
 keep together, from the time that the young birds leave the 
 nest, till the next nesting season comes round, when the young 
 ones are pretty well grown up. They go wandering about — 
 the parents and their children, a dozen or so — like a gipsy 
 family, moving from place to place, and never making a stay 
 anywhere : they have been called the Long-tailed Wanderers. 
 They eat whatever they can find in the place they stop at ; if 
 night comes on, they go to sleep just where they are, and start 
 their travels again next morning. In Summer all they want is 
 a branch where they can pick up insects ; and in Winter, some 
 sheltered place where they can huddle up cosily together. 
 They have a little call, or password, a soft little "zit-zit," by 
 which they can always keep from losing each other. 
 
 They never eat anything they should not, such as fruit or 
 grain. Sort^etimes, indeed, they are unlucky enough to be 
 shot by a j^^.ruener, who sees them pecking at his fruit buds ; 
 but as they only eat the diseased buds, they are really doing 
 much more good than harm. Their favourite food is cater- 
 pillars, small beetles, and insects in general. 
 
 Their wants, you will see, like themselves, are extremely 
 small and simple ; and perhaps there is no bird happier, 
 quieter, and more easily contented than "Bottle Tom" and 
 his very, very large family. 
 
The Yellow«Haininer 
 
 THERE are few country hedges where you are not likely 
 to see this attractive little bird. It perches upon twigs 
 and sprays, uttering its simple song, which all boys know 
 as " A-little-bit-of-bread-and-NO-cheese " and waiting, as it 
 would seem, for the passer-by to notice it. This song may 
 always be heard about three o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 If you come closer, the bird will fly on to another spray, 
 and there wait and sing again : it always manages to keep 
 
 
 about twenty yards in front of you. It is a delicately marked, 
 graceful little creature ; and its lovely yellow plumage makes 
 it visible a long way off. 
 
 It is also called the Yellow Bunting, Goldspink, Gladdy, 
 Yellow Yearling, and by a great many other names. 
 
 The commonest of eggs which you will find in a country 
 boy's collection are — next to the Blackbird's and Thrush's — 
 the Yellow-hammer's, and very beautiful eggs they are. The 
 ground colour is white, more or less tinted in places with wine 
 red ; and there are streaks and veins of dark-red, brown or 
 chocolate colour, "just as if a child," it has been said, " has 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 been trying to write Arabic on the eggs." All the Bunting 
 family, to which the Yellow-hammer belongs, have these 
 curious markings on their eggs : so much so, that the Common 
 Bunting is known as the " Writing Lark." But anyone 
 who possesses Bunting eggs of any sort should not attempt to 
 clean them, as these writing marks easily rub off. 
 
 The Yellow-hammer's nest is usually placed in a low, thick 
 bush upon a hedge bank; sometimes in an evergreen shrub 
 in a garden ; sometimes in tufts of coarse grass and rushes. 
 But it always is low down and well hidden. The building 
 materials are dead grass, small sticks, a little moss, a few 
 feathers, and plenty of hair for the lining. 
 
 The Yellow-hammers go on singing their quaint little song 
 long after other birds are silent in the Summer ; in the hot 
 days of July, they still are begging for " a-little-bit-of-bread- 
 and-NO-cheese." In Winter they assemble in large flocks, and 
 venture into rickyards ; if the weather is severe, they will even 
 come near houses along with other birds. But they are never 
 really shy ; and though not so familiar as a Robin, who loves 
 to be talked to as he sits upon his twig, and to answer with a 
 cheerful " Tweet," the Yellow-hammer certainly enjoys being 
 watched and admired, and likes to converse with some one, as 
 it were, at a safe distance. 
 
The Sandmartin 
 
 THE Sandmartins are the smallest and the earliest of the 
 Swallow tribe to visit this country in Spring, but they 
 do not follow the example of their relations in wishing to keep 
 close to houses. They prefer to dwell in colonies, scores and 
 
 hundreds of birds together ; and 
 to fix their settlement in some 
 steep bank or cliff of sand, clay, or 
 gravel. A sand pit, or a railway 
 cutting, or a sandstone rock — these 
 are their favourite places ; and here 
 they have to mine and dig very 
 industriously to prepare a home 
 for their children. 
 
 To begin with, a Sandmartin 
 lays hold of the bank with his 
 claws, steadies himself with his tail, 
 and picks little holes with his beak. 
 Then he moves round and round, 
 and gradually gets this hole bigger 
 and deeper, and shoves out the 
 sand with his feet. And so, by 
 degrees, the Sandmartin scoops out 
 a tunnel, sloping upwards, and 
 sometimes so long that a man's 
 arm cannot reach to the end of it. 
 As he only works in the morning, 
 this job takes several days. 
 
 At the far end he makes a little 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 room, and lines it with grass and feathers ; and this is the 
 nest where, in what must be a very dark place, the young 
 Sandmartins are reared. 
 
 The eggs are white, like all Swallows' eggs ; but some- 
 times they are faintly dotted with red, and before they are 
 blown they look pink, from the thinness of the shell. The 
 mother bird sits very closely on her eggs ; she will even allow 
 herself to be lifted out, and will lie in the hand, without 
 making the least movement. 
 
 When a tunnel is made in the way I have described, the 
 old birds will return to it year after year, and will merely clear 
 out the old straw and feathers and put fresh ones in. But 
 their fully-grown young who accompany them have, of course, 
 to dig new homes for themselves. 
 
 After many years of the Sandmartins' labours, the rock 
 face will look like some great honeycomb, completely covered 
 with holes set as closely as possible beside each other. 
 
 The birds are pretty little creatures, darting about in the 
 air together like a cloud of white butterflies, for their under- 
 parts show very white as they fly. They are sometimes 
 attacked by Hawks, and will defend themselves most pluckily, 
 mobbing the Hawk, and buffeting it with their wings. 
 
The Nightingale 
 
 EVERYBODY has heard of the Nightingale, but it is not 
 everyone who has heard the bird itself. For although 
 there are plenty of Nightingales both in Europe and in Asia, 
 they only visit certain parts of the British Isles. In the 
 
 northern and western Counties they 
 are never to be found. 
 
 They arrive in England about 
 the middle of April ; and at first a 
 Nightingale's only note is a peculiar 
 harsh, hoarse croak, which is quite 
 startling when you hear it coming 
 out of isome green budding tree. 
 You cannot at first imagine what 
 bird would make so ugly a sound. 
 But in a day or two he starts his 
 wonderful song, which goes on all 
 through May and into the first or 
 second week of June. This song 
 cannot possibly be described, though 
 a great many people have tried to 
 make up sounds to imitate it. It is 
 so much clearer and more brilliant 
 than that of any other bird, and has 
 such a great variety of notes. It is 
 quite the most beautiful song that 
 you would wish to hear. 
 
 The Nightingale is not a shy 
 bird ; on the contrary, he rather likes 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 listeners. He does not object to their standing quite 
 close against the oak tree or thorn bush in which he may 
 be sitting, so long as they keep fairly quiet. He seems 
 to be too busy singing to pay any attention to strangers. He 
 is uttering these lovely notes to his mate, who, like himself, 
 is aJittle plain brownish bird, sitting in her very plain brown 
 nest at the foot of an oak tree or hazel bush. This nest is 
 loosely made of a few dead oak leaves, with a little lining of 
 hair and grass and roots : it is not at all easy to see where it 
 lies among last year's leaves, and it holds four or five plain 
 brown eggs. 
 
 There is an old saying, " The Nightingale's children are 
 born dead, and she sings them alive ! " This, of course, is 
 only a saying. But when the young birds are hatched, the 
 Nightingale has hard work to keep them alive. He feeds 
 them, like himself, upon grubs, worms, and ants' eggs. And 
 now he has no time at all for music ; he goes back to his old 
 harsh croak again. 
 
 Nightingales sing by day as well as night, only then all 
 the other birds are in their full May-time song, so that they 
 are less easily heard. But they start regularly at ten o'clock 
 every night : they keep such good time, that if it is before or 
 after ten by your clock, you may be sure the clock is wrong 
 and the Nightingale is right. They like thick woods, but 
 indeed they are just as fond of trees near gardens ; and I have 
 known a man who could not sleep for their singing, and who 
 used to have to get up and throw stones into the Nightingales' 
 trees to make them silent for a while ! 
 
The Ni^fitin^.ale I 
 
The Red Grouse 
 
 THIS is a beautiful bird which makes its home in wild 
 heathery moorlands. It lives in flocks or "packs," and 
 is very shy and wary in its habits. This is not surprising, 
 considering the number of its enemies. Eagles, falcons> 
 buzzards, crows, foxes, martens, and pole-cats — worst of all, 
 sportsmen with guns — attack the unfortunate Red Grouse, 
 and if it were not able to run very fast with its thickly- 
 feathered legs, which are covered right down to the toe, and 
 to hide itself in all sorts of curious nooks and corners, the 
 
 Red Grouse would find it difficult to live at all. It cannot 
 perch in trees, nor can it fly very high. It feeds upon plain 
 and simple food, such as twigs of heather, shoots of grass, 
 willow-buds, whortleberries and cranberries ; it is also very 
 fond of oats, if there are any to be had within reach of its 
 moorland. 
 
 The nest is a loose heap of straw, twigs, and heather 
 sprays, hidden under a turf of heather, and here the Hen- 
 Grouse hatches out some seven to nine eggs, of a beautiful 
 reddish colour, mottled with rich red-brown. 
 
 The hooded crow is always lurking near to listen for the 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 young brood's hatching, for he can hear the small shrill chirp 
 they give as they break the shell, and then he descends and 
 devours them at once. 
 
 The mother teaches her fledglings, as early as possible, 
 how to use their legs and how to find hiding-places and ways 
 of escape. They learn to separate in all directions at a 
 moment's notice, to rush behind tufts, squeeze through the 
 most difficult places, or lie as still as stone. Partridges and 
 other game-birds, if they are disturbed, rise all at once, in a 
 " covey," but the Red Grouse fly singly, as though each had 
 been carefully instructed to look after himself and not to wait 
 for help from the others. When the young broods are fully 
 fledged, by about the end of August, the birds collect into 
 larger " packs" than ever ; and even snow and bitter weather, 
 which make many wild creatures become tamer, have no effect 
 at all upon the Red Grouse ; in fact, they grow still more shy. 
 But what can you expect, when, as I said before, the bird has 
 so many and such powerful enemies ? 
 
Red 
 Grouse S 
 
The SKylark 
 
 WHEN you see a Skylark suddenly rise from the ground, 
 and go up into the blue of a spring sky, singing, 
 singing, singing all the way, it seems almost too wonderful to 
 be true. He becomes just a little black speck above you ; 
 
 presently you cannot see him 
 at all, and there, out of sight, 
 he stops many minutes, pouring 
 down a constant flood of music. 
 His song is so joyous, so brim- 
 ming full of life and happiness, 
 there is no other equal to it. 
 And he does not only sing in 
 Spring like other birds, al- 
 though then he is warbling 
 every day and all day long. He 
 begins again in October ; and 
 right through Winter; when- 
 ever the day is mild enough, 
 up soars the Lark once more 
 with his song of joy. He is 
 quite untiring ; in midsummer, 
 he has been heard at two in 
 the morning, before dawn, and 
 at ten at night when it was 
 quite dark. 
 
 The best singing birds are 
 dull and unnoticeable of plum- 
 age ; the Lark is small and 
 slight looking, with a sober 
 
 \^\^ 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 brown-and-white colouring. He lives on quite plain fare — 
 small insects and seeds — such as can be found in stubble- 
 fields, meadows and downs, or freshly-ploughed lands. In 
 spring, he is rather too fond of the sprouting corn, and there- 
 fore farmers hate him. 
 
 The nest, which is only a few thin roots and grasses, 
 lined with fibres, is always arranged in some hollow or 
 depression in the ground, such as the print of a horse's hoof, 
 the rut of a cart wheel, at the edge of a furrow, or near some 
 unevenness of ground. The Larks are excellent parents, and 
 a pair have been known, when disturbed by mowers, to build 
 a little dome over the' nest, and to remove the young birds to 
 a safer place. The hen bird sits so tightly on her nest, that 
 she will hardly move, even when a foot is nearly on her ; 
 and the cock bird, even in captivity, is a first-rate nurse. It 
 seems very hard that these exquisite songsters should have so 
 many troubles. Hawks are continually carrying them off, 
 bird-catchers snare them in thousands, and those which are 
 not used for eating, are shut up in captivity. Nothing worse 
 can be imagined than that a bird which has been accustomed 
 to go singing and soaring in mid-air, and enjoying all the 
 space he can desire, should be imprisoned between walls and 
 bars for the pleasure of a few selfish people. 
 
,-:-:f*'s»vei/i- 
 
 Tfie Skylark 
 
 ^^ 
 
The Rook 
 
 THE Rook is in many ways a very wise and remarkable 
 bird : there are many points in which he resembles 
 human beings. In a Rookery, for instance, there are laws 
 which have to be obeyed ; no bird may steal his neighbour's 
 building material, and if he should be found doing so, a court 
 of justice is held over him, and he is banished, or severely 
 punished. Again, the Rooks always keep a sentinel, or out- 
 post, stationed in a tree above the field where they are feeding. 
 
 and if he should see a man with a gun, or any other dangerous- - 
 looking object, he gives warning immediately, and his friends 
 take wing. The Rook, indeed, knows a gun only too well by 
 sight, and has such a dread of it that he can spy it ever so 
 far off. 
 
 Another clever thing about the Rook is, that in building 
 a new nest (which only happens if the old nest, to which he 
 returns every year, is past mending), he will take care to avoid 
 branches which are at all weak or decayed and so are likely 
 to break. No strange Rook is allowed in the Rookery : if he 
 should try to plant himself there, he is angrily driven away. 
 
 The cock bird is very kind to the hen while she is 
 
THE BIRD BOOK 
 
 sitting, and feeds her with grubs and daddy-long-legs. The 
 nest is a roughly made one of sticks and twigs, and the eggs 
 are pale-green with greenish-brown blotches. The young 
 Rooks have rather a bad time of it, as directly they are big 
 enough to be able to fly, a great many of them are shot by the 
 owner of the Rookery and are made into Rook pie. 
 
 Rooks go out early in the morning and come home about 
 sunset, flying in long lines. Before they settle down to roost, 
 they go through a number of curious movements in the air, 
 almost as if they were having a dance or game. They make 
 a great noise, cawing and clattering ; indeed, a Rook is one of 
 the noisiest birds there is. 
 
 In Spring they chiefly live upon the worms and grubs 
 turned up by the plough, and so make themselves very useful 
 to farmers, but later on it is another matter. Instead of 
 getting rid of cockchafers, daddy-long-legs and grubs, they 
 take to pulling up the grain, damaging the young corn, and 
 plundering the growing potato fields ; so that a boy with a 
 clapper, or a man with a gun, has to keep watch to scare them 
 away. 
 
 In Winter they have a good deal of trouble to find food. 
 Sometimes they hunt for dead fish along the seashore, some- 
 times they go pecking in turnip fields, and occasionally they 
 will chase and eat poor little birds that are too starved to fly. 
 Perhaps the food they really prefer to any other, as a choice 
 and rare dainty, is ripe walnuts, and anybody with a 
 walnut tree is likely to lose the best part of his fruit if he 
 lives within easy distance of a Rookery. 
 

 
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 Rook 
 
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Richard Clay 6- Sons, Limited, 
 
 brunswick street, stamford street, s.e., 
 
 and bungay, suffolk. 
 
 PRINTED IN ENGLAND. 
 
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