sneezing, hissing noises unaccountable and
out of tune with all the rest. When the
nightingale has finally acquired his proper
note he sings with a depth, power, and
mellowness that few, if any, other birds can
equal.

At night, when in full song, the nightingale
fears nothing. He sits in a bush, his throat
distended, his beak wide open, the feathers
round his neck quivering, and his whole
being vibrating with his effort. You can
then walk up to him or even flash a lamp in



forth its rich but penetrating and plaintive
volume of song.

Arriving in south-eastern England in
April/the nightingale male bird impatiently
awaits the coming of the hens, and it is while
he is singing for them that he learns the
magic song we know so well. It is acquired
bit by bit, note by note. He calls tu, tu, tu,
tu, hoping and hoping no doubt to get the
right note, the most perfect note, before
his wife arrives. With endless patience he
tries it over and over again, and when he
gets it proceeds systematically to the next.
Twee, twee, twee, twee he recites, slowly at
first, and then suddenly quickening the pace,
repeats twee-twee-twee until it rattles in his
throat. Now it is who, who, who, with the



534



THE PAGEANT OF NATURE



his face, without in any way disturbing his
love song. He is too occupied, too inter-
ested, too much in love, to care either for
you or your light. Or perhaps he is sing-



The nightjar is an elusive bird and rather
ghost-like in its habits. Should one chance
to meet it on the wing, all that will be seen
is a black object floating quietly along the



ing to outrival all those whose songs come ground and soaring over a hedge, silently
to him from afar. Or maybe he is singing and without effort, or at times making with
to his consort, who by this time has arrived its wings a cracking sound as if two pieces

of wood were slapped together, as
strange and eerie in flight as in
voice. At rest he sits lengthwise
on the branch of a tree, a black
lump against the moon, whirring his
cacophonous song.

Nightjars are insect eaters, their
food being moths and beetles. These
they catch in their claws at night
and place in their large beak, which
is capable of holding huge supplies.
During the day these birds hide in
the bracken or perch on trees, but
as soon as the light fails they start
hunting again.

Of all the sounds at night, I
know of few which can awaken
deeper emotions or which are less
easily forgotten than the wild, sad,
penetrating cry of the tawny owl
among the mountains. It will stand
on the top of a polled tree on the
hill slope and call tu-hu, tu, tu, tu,
tu, hoo over and over again. And
somewhere else on the mountainside
another owl will answer, moaning
out its challenge, until the hills carry
the voices from one to another,
driving the sound to and fro like a
shuttlecock, until at long last it dies

The Tawny Owl will perch among the ivy or on down.
the top of a polled tree in the hills, moaning ^^

out his challenge to the silent night.




To track the short-eared and long-
eared owls to their haunts one must

and is now sitting on a nest of eggs in the wander in a forest of pines or in a beech
side of the bank.

When the young have been hatched from



wood, preferably on a moonlit night when
a mist is hanging thick between the trees.



the eggs the nightingale sings no longer, With luck one may catch sight of a grey
but croaks in low, curious, almost unpleasant form as it flaps slowly away. If young owls
tones. Before August is out he and his are present, their snore will be heard, a sound



wife and family have departed.



like that of an engine letting off steam at



I remember as a boy once hearing a bird regular intervals, or a deep hiss, as though

serenading below my window, its song they were telling the intruder to be quiet,

resembling a policeman's whistle mingled The barn owl has a call like ke-we y which is

with the sound made by whirling a whip- often to be heard after the sun is set.
cord. It terrified me, but later, when I But for the most part these night birds of

understood that these strange noises were the inland regions are solitary, and we have

from a nightjar singing to his mate, I be- to go to the mud-flats of the coast to find

came curious to know more of this musician, communities of birds filling the night air

536






i




Photo: Caff. H. Xtrrfy Salmon, M.C.

Somewhere away on the marshes the Redshank wakes up and calls in plaintive

tones




Photo ; Peter II V Osier.

-while from the lower reaches of the river, when the mud-flats are flooded with silver,
comes the quacking of Mallards and a medley of other birds' voices.



THE PAGEANT OF NATURE



with their cries. Few things are so the quacking of the mallard, the hoarse cries
fascinating as the sounds coming from the of the herons as they rise on their wings,
marshes at night, when the whole scene Often in the medley of bird voices there
is lit up by the moon and the reaches of comes a wild mad laugh, a note sounded
mud and tidal river are flooded with silver, high above the rest of this marsh
Curlew wail somewhere on the dark mud- orchestra. It is a gull, and as he laughs
flats, a redshank wakes up and calls in plain- he wakens thousands of others, who laugh

in chorus, until the air is mad
with tumult. Then, just as
suddenly, all is still, and the
only sounds are the quiet lap-
ping of the water and the oc-
casional cry of a curlew or
whimbrel. Or a plover, wheel-
ing about in the darkness, as
though lost and uncertain
where to alight, calls plain-
tively to its mates, hoping to
get direction, and calling as if
afraid to make too much noise.
In curious contrast to the
wild free voices of the people
of the muds is the pathetic
tinny song of the reed warblers
in the reed beds over the wall.
The reed warbler wakes from
a deep sleep to sing his weird,
grating song which is without
rhythm, rhyme or reason. It
is the oddest medley of broken
notes, peculiar whistles and
loud hisses. It would seem
almost as if the bird knew what
a miserable attempt it was
making and was hissing at its
own efforts. He wakes up and
mutters twi-phang-whiz-bang-
we hiss ! hiss ! and then goes
to sleep again.

The marsh warblers also
wake up in the night and sing
their melody, which is a curious
mixture of the cries and calls
of many other birds.

Not many years ago the booming of the
bittern was a common sound of the marshes,
and even now one may be fortunate enough
some evening to hear its deep penetrating
call like the clanging of a muffled bell.

So the night has many voices, and with its
dream-like mists its alternation of shadow
and moonlight is ever full of wonder and
beauty, and the very silence serves to make
more lovely those songs and calls that ever
and again awaken the darkness.




A. M. C. Kicholl, M.K.O.U.

The Reed Warbler wakens the night hours with his weird
grating song which is without rhythm, rhyme or reason.



tive tones, and every now and again the
musical notes of waders are interrupted
by the grating alarm notes of snipe. If it is
autumn there may also be the curious cry of
widgeon, which talk and call to each other
out of the darkness.

As the tides wash the fowl from the lower
reaches of the river, causing them to seek
higher spots, the air will all at once be alive
with their whistles and cries : the twee-twee-
you of widgeon, the honking of geese, and



538




Photo: C. y. King.



During the breeding season one occasionally sees the Manx Shearwater sitting at the

mouth of the nesting-hole. To those unacquainted with the behaviour of these birds,

even on an island which boasts a large colony, this rarity may seem curious.



25.-THE MANX SHEARWATER

By G. J. KING



DESPITE the strides which our know-
ledge has made of late years, the
Manx shearwater is one of those
birds about which ornithologists are still
to some extent uninformed, and there is
no bird in the British avi-fauna which,
as far as I know, has been less photographed.
The habits of this bird are such as to make
both observation and photography difficult.
During the greater part of the year it spends
its time at sea, ceaselessly skimming the
waves, as its name implies ; feeding upon
molluscs and other minute creatures of the
ocean's surface, and seldom coming to the
shore. But during the breeding season
things are changed. At this time the birds
the male and the female take daily turns
of about twenty hours each in their nesting-
holes, one bird being occupied in incubation
while the other is roaming the adjacent seas.
Here in the Scillies, where I have spent over
thirty years observing sea-birds, we have



one of the largest known colonies of the
Manx shearwater, and perhaps if I take this
particular colony on Annet as typical, and
describe the behaviour of the Manx shear-
waters there, I shall not go far wrong, as
from what I can learn these birds behave in
the same manner in all their known breeding
places.

Imagine, then, an island of about half a
mile in length, somewhat snakelike in form,
with various small bays (almost cut in two
by them in places), but widening out in
other parts to perhaps two or three hun-
dred yards, covered all over with either
thrift, bracken or thick rank grass, the
fringe rocky all round, and with the excep-
tion of a gentle rise towards the broader end,
comparatively flat. This, among dozens of
others, is the one selected islet on which the
Manx shearwater has for hundreds of years
taken up its abode. But these birds do
not occupy the whole of Annet. Though



539



THE PAGEANT OF NATURE




Photo: Peter Webster.

The Manx Shearwater's one egg is white

and similar in size to that of the ordinary

domestic fowl. It is incubated well away

inside the nesting-hole.

there are many thousands of them nesting
here year after year, and there is other soil
which seems equally suit-
able for their purpose, yet
there are parts of the
island in which no shear-
waters are ever found.
Why they should restrict
themselves to one island,
and to certain parts of one
island, remains yet to be
decided, but so it is.

If one unfamiliar with
the habits of this bird
were to visit Annet during
the breeding season, it is
quite conceivable that the
whole day might be spent
there without a single
shearwater being seen ; in
fact, I have often spent
the day there without
seeing one. Occasionally,
but very seldom, a bird
may be seen at the mouth
of a nesting-hole, or, as
once happened to me, a
sight of a fight between
two birds in a similar
position; but these are
quite exceptional, and the
only way really to see the



shearwaters is to spend the night with them.
Such an experience I will describe later on.
The flight of the shearwater is most
graceful. Without effort the bird glides
over the surface of the water, turns, rises
or falls almost without movement of the
wings ; but it seldom ascends to any great
height. It is a beautiful sight to see these
birds in large numbers, hundreds of them
together, and frequently even in thousands,
wheeling about over a smooth summer sea,
but never colliding. The one egg of the
shearwater is white and of about the same
size as that of the ordinary domestic fowl.
Incubation takes place well away inside the
nesting-hole, and out of sight. This accounts
for the fact already mentioned that the bird is
seldom seen while sitting. The nesting-holes
vary in length from one or two feet up to
almost any distance, as where the birds are
very numerous and the soil is soft and sandy,
the burrows intersect one another in all
directions, and this, no doubt, accounts for
the occasional fights which take place when
a bird finds some intruder in its home. In




On land the Manx Shearwater is a helpless, clumsy bird.
The legs are set so far back that they seem of little use
for walking. It is only by bundling along the ground, or
flapping up on to a rock that it seems able to take flight.

540



WONDERS OF BIRD LIFE




Photo: Ptter Webster.

The young Manx Shearwater is covered with down. It looks quite as helpless on land

as, indeed, it proves to be.



some places the shearwaters are in very close
proximity to the puffins, but they seldom
cross each other's burrow, or if they do, I
think the shearwater gives way to the smaller
bird with the formidable beak. I have
never seen the two species righting.

The shearwater on land is a helpless,
clumsy bird, with its legs set so far back that
they seem of little use for walking, and it



is only by bundling along the ground in a
haphazard sort of way, or napping up on
to a rock, that it seems able to take flight.
This is no doubt the reason why so many
of them fall a prey to the various gulls ;
indeed, when one visits Annet towards the
end of the nesting season, the sight presented
is most repulsive. In all directions are the
emptied bodies of shearwaters and puffins.




P/<oto: Peter ll'ebster.



'

The adult Shearwater after spending the greater part of the day at sea returns to

its solitary chick.

54 1



THE PAGEANT OF NATURE



I purposely use the word " emptied," for out of their holes in the dim, fading light,
what happens is this. The gull generally and in less than half an hour hundreds of
the greater black back watches near the them will have emerged. While these have
smaller bird's nesting-hole, and as soon as been leaving the nesting-holes the birds
the latter shows itself, the gull seizes it by from the sea will have been coming in, until
the back of the neck and shakes it as a dog within an hour the sky will be thick with
shakes a rat. The little bird may be killed them, and the noise deafening. In all
outright, or it may be only slightly hurt ; directions, before the darkness becomes too
in the latter case the gull will often play with great to see them, they will show against the
it, allowing it to flap, or run, a yard or so, and sky in numbers probably running into
then catch it again, and so worry it to thousands. So close to the earth do many of
death. But sometimes, not being badly in- them fly that it is wise to lie or sit upon the

ground and watch them, for they
flap one's face with their wings as
they fly, and sometimes administer
a nasty blow as they come with a
rush against one's head. For about
three hours almost to the minute
this babel of sound and wild rush
of wings continues, and then, as
suddenly as it began, all is quiet.
The birds which had spent the
day at sea have taken their places
in the nesting-holes, and those
which had persistently done their
incubating duty take their turn of
freedom on the broad bosom of
the Atlantic until night comes
again, when the whole business is
repeated.

The oceanic wanderings of this
shearwater have yet to be definitely
determined ; but that many of them
remain in the Scillies throughout
the year is proved by the fact

jured at the outset, it gets away altogether, that their peculiar cry is often heard on dark
This, however, seldom happens, the rule nights throughout the winter months.




Photo: Peter Webster.

For the greater part of the year the Manx
Shearwater spends its time at sea : during the
breeding season the male and female take daily
turns of about twenty hours each in the nesting-
hole while the other roams the adjacent seas.



being that the big bird finishes its horrible



think, perhaps, that the occasion on



work by disembowelling its victim, swallow- which I have been most impressed by the

ing the viscera and leaving the empty carcass shearwaters was once when I was pro-

to rot in the sun. But occasionally, when, ceeding at 4 a.m. (Greenwich time) to the

I suppose, the gull is very hungry, it will wreck of a liner which had during the night

swallow the whole bird, head included, gone ashore on one of the treacherous

This I have proved by collecting shearwater rocks with which the Scillies are fringed,

and puffin heads amongst the castings Just before the sun made its appearance

scattered round the nest of the greater in the north-east the colouring was gor-



black-backed gulls.



geous, and as it peeped out of the sea



The nightly frolic of the shearwaters is amongst the Scillonian eastern group, the
one of the most interesting of Nature steam launch ran into a mass of shear-
studies, and should be watched by all bird waters. We were completely surrounded
lovers who have the opportunity. It means by them ; they were an innumerable host,
a night in the open air, but it is at a time of and the gambols of the graceful birds
year when this is in no way a discomfort, in as they wheeled and turned and skimmed
fact, just the reverse. Just about ten o'clock the blood-red sea made an impression not
by the sun the birds will be seen coming easy to forget.

542




It would be a dull British summer without the Song -thrush. Duping the nesting

season it is rather uncommon to see both parent Thrushes so advantageously placed

at the nest in the care of the brood.



26.-OUR RESIDENT THRUSHES:
Song -thrush, Blackbird, and Missel -thrush



By FRANK BONNETT



IT would be a dull world without birds,
and least of all could we in this country
spare that most persistent of British
songsters, the throstle or song-thrush. He
is even more familiar, perhaps, than the
blackbird, and certainly better known than
his larger cousin, the missel-thrush or
stormcock. The whole of this merry trio
for surely they are among the most light-
hearted of birds belong to the resident
species of thrushes, and their ways of life
are very much the same.

Each of these three is a singer of merit,
though it would be difficult to decide which
of them is actually the best. It may safely
be declared that the song-thrush has the



most- varied repertoire. His season of song
also has no fixed limit, as is the case with
most other birds, for he may be heard,
spasmodic though he be, in every month of
the year. Even as these words are written, at
three o'clock on a dark November day, when
the fog is so dense that nothing can be seen
at fifty yards' distance, there is a thrush
in the orchard yonder shouting out his song
as merrily as if the blue sky of May were
overhead and the bough on which he sits
garlanded with apple-blossom instead of
cold, wet drops.

The song- thrush, indeed, refuses to be
suppressed even by those dismal conditions
which drive other birds into silence. The



543



THE PAGEANT OF NATURE



robin at such times may just have the heart
to keep him company, pouring out his watery
little notes in brief snatches ; but the thrush's



circumstances he can always find it in him
to sing a few notes, if only now and again.
At the turn of the year his song of happi-



song is bold, defiant and complete, and seems ness will become stronger and more frequent,
to come, just as it does in happier days, until at the approach of the nesting season




riioto: L. y.

The female Song-thrush just arrived at the nest with food for the young.
While the cares of the family are full upon him, the male does not give up

song entirely.



from his very soul. To-morrow morning
the fog may have lifted and rain be falling,
or the sky may have cleared and the land
be covered with a thick, white frost, b^t
the thrush, nothing daunted, will be singing
just the same. Sooner or later, just because
he cannot help it, he will break into melody.
In winter, however, not even the thrush can
be expected to carol for hours on end, as he
does in the springtime when his heart is
filled to the brim with the joy of the living
year, but it is to his credit and points to a
happy disposition that in the most dismal



we shall hear him at his best. For then,
be it remembered, there will be many rivals
in the field, and who shall say that a thrush
does not win his bride as much by vocal
prowess as by the smartness of his coat ?
Later on, when the cares of a family are
upon him, he will have less time for the idle-
ness of song, but he will never, like the
nightingale, give up entirely, even though
the exigencies of food-hunting for himself
and family shall keep him busy for the
greater part of the daylight hours. He
rises early and goes late to bed, so that in



544




A WOODLAND IDYLL

Song-thrush feeding her young at sunrise
Photograph by J. T. Newman




s
*M

* * *

j *



H -S



s a.t




" I'M ALL ALONE ! "

Young Missel Thrush

Photograph by Stanley Crook




Photo: T. M. Blackt.



A FEMALE SONG-THRUSH ON THE NEST.



The female Song-thrush will sit cosily on the eggs for considerable spells, while her
mate sings unceasingly in the boughs above.



THE PAGEANT OF NATURE



the morning he may often be heard singing
before the lark has made his first ascent,
and at sunset even after the robin another
keeper of late hours has sung himself to
sleep.

It is only during a brief period of the
summer in July or August, when the days




The nest of the Missel-thrush is compacted of fine twigs,
grass, stems, moss, and mud, and lined with fine dry
grass. It is usually situated at a considerable height and
in a strong fork, or at the junction of two or more
branches.

are hot and dry that the thrush relapses
more or less into silence ; the first shower or
the coming of cooler autumn days will
usually cause him to break out afresh.
The cares of life would seem to sit lightly on
the thrush's shoulders, for it is only when
the weather is at one or other of its great
extremes that he is reduced to really serious
mood.

There are times, indeed, when even the



hardy song-thrush and other members of
his family find life harder than they can
bear. In a long drought food is apt to
be scarce, and even though the older mem-
bers of the tribe may be able to eke out an
existence on the forbidden fruit of garden
and orchard, the younger generation, to
whom insect food is a greater
necessity, have a hard struggle
to live. Worse is it when a
hard winter possibly with a
short crop of hedgerow fruits
holds the land in a grip of
iron for days or even weeks
on end ; for then the food
supply, despite the most
diligent search for .uncon-
sidered trifles in the more
sheltered places, is bound to
fail, and the death-roll must
be heavy. Despite time-
honoured belief, there is no
connexion at all between a
hard winter and plenty of
berries, for the latter are a
result of the season that has
gone before, not an indication
of the days to come. There
are hard winters when the
crop of wild fruits is negli-
gible, or it may be that frost
and snow do not arrive until
"O all the natural food of this
description is exhausted. So,
sometimes, though happily at
long intervals, the downs and
fields are strewn with sad
evidence of starvation among
the birds, and the thrushes
are the worst sufferers of all.
Like his smaller relative,
the missel-thrush is another
brave and persistent songster,
but his voice, though usually
more powerful, is harsher and
much more limited in compass. His singing
is confined mostly to the first four months
of the year, but he may be heard at intervals
both earlier and later. Usually it is about
Christmas he is heard for the first time, but
now and again he will take us by surprise
by uttering a few rather subdued notes in
the autumn on which occasions, possibly,
we may be listening to a young bird making
a preliminary test of his vocal powers.



54 6




Photo: F. Jefferson.

THE MISSEL-THRUSH.

It is one of the earliest of British nesting birds. Even in March he will sing through

the fiercest gale, and in consequence of this sturdy defiance of the weather he has earned

the alternative name of " stormeock."



THE PAGEANT OF NATURE



The missel-thrush, of course, gets his the summer, and presently may be seen
nickname of " stormcock " from the fact with other families of their kind congregated
that in the breezy days of March he will together in the meadows or wherever food
shout defiance to the fiercest gale. The is to be found. There they will remain
harder it blows, the more he seems to enjoy until the approach of another season warns

them that it is time for
family parties to be
broken up.

Not until the signs
of spring are well ad-
vanced will the black-
bird condescend to
make music at his
best and the black-
bird's best is very good.
Scarce a note will he
utter until long after
the days have begun
to lengthen, but some-
times towards the end
of January he will be-
gin to try his voice, if
so be there is a feeling
of springtime in the
air and a still, clear