John F.L.S. Watson
Poachers and Poaching
The dotterel is one of the most interesting of British birds. It is a summer visitant, and breeds upon the tops of the highest mountains. It is every year decreasing as a species in consequence of the persistency with which it is hunted down for its feathers; these are used for dressing flies. I have found it breeding upon Skiddaw, Sea Fell, and Helvellyn, though not since the year 1884. Part of the interest which attaches to the bird arises from the fact of its extremely local distribution, the mountains named being perhaps the only ones on which it is known to breed in this country. Hewitson, the eminent ornithologist, spent five consecutive seasons in looking for a dotterel's nest; and it was upon Great Robinson and the Hindsgarth range that he ultimately found its eggs. The large price offered for these has acted as a prize for the dotterel's extermination by the shepherds; and some years ago a quarryman had a dog which was trained to find the nests. Owing to the great number of trout streams in the Lake district, angling is general; and, as has been said, the dotterel's decrease is due entirely to the great demand for skins. The birds are mainly shot either on their spring or autumnal migration, and at the former season the grandfather of the present writer upon one occasion bagged seventeen birds in a morning.
Although eagles are now more than rare in Britain, there was a time when they bred among the crags of Cumbria. Gray and Sir Humphrey Davy watched the eagles in their eyries, and the former tells how he saw them robbed of their young. To say nothing of the carnage made on hares, grouse, and waterfowl, these birds during the breeding season destroyed a lamb daily. It is no wonder that the farmers, shepherds, and dalesfolk were careful to plunder the eyries, though this was not done without very considerable risk. In one case a man was lowered down the rocks a distance of fifty fathoms, and during the descent he had to protect himself against the attacks of the parent birds. Year by year the eggs or eaglets were taken, and as their presence was injurious to the interests of the farmers, the latter were willing to pay for their extermination. If the nest contained young birds, these were to be the cliff-climber's remuneration; but if eggs, every neighbouring farmer paid for each egg five shillings. The nests were formed of the branches of trees, and lined with coarse grass and bents that grew on the neighbouring rocks. On the eagles being so frequently robbed of their young, they became unsettled and removed from crag to crag. On one mighty escarpment more inaccessible than the rest they nested for fourteen consecutive years. These eagles and their progenitors had probably bred in the near vicinity for centuries; and the conservatism of birds—especially birds of prey—is quite remarkable. Of this two instances may be given. In Cotheca Wolleyana it is recorded that a peregrine falcon's nest on a hill called Arasaxa, in Finland, is mentioned by the French astronomer Maupertius as having been observed by him in 1736. In 1799 it was rediscovered by Skjöldebrand and Acerti. Wolley himself found it tenanted in 1853, and by examining the remains of a young bird lying near the nest, proved that it belonged to this species. It is probable, therefore, that this particular eyrie had been used by the same species of falcon for one hundred and seventeen years.
The following is another instance, hardly less remarkable, though having reference to an altogether different kind of bird. The particular incident is well known to naturalists, and perhaps the latest rendering of it is that by the Nestor of British ornithology, Professor Newton. He says: "When the blue titmouse has taken possession of a hole, she is not easily induced to quit it, but defends her nest and eggs with great courage and pertinacity, puffing out her feathers, hissing like a snake, and trying to repel the fingers of the intruder…. The branch containing the nest may even be sawn off and conveyed to a distance (a cruel experiment) without the mother leaving it, and cases have been known in which, when this has been done, she has still continued to sit on her eggs, hatch them, and rear her brood. With equal persistence will this species year after year use as a nursery the same hole, and a remarkable instance of this kind is on record. In 1779, according to one account, in 1785, according to another, it is said that a pair of these birds built their nest in a large earthenware bottle which had been left to drain in the branches of a tree in a garden at Oxbridge, in the township of Hartburn, near Stockton-on-Tees, and safely hatched their young. The bottle having been allowed to remain in the same position by the occupiers of the farm, then and still a family of the name of Callendar, was frequented for the same purpose and with a like result, until 1822, when, the tree becoming decayed, the bottle was placed in one near by, and the tenancy continued until 1851. In that year the occupiers of the farm omitted drawing out the old nest, as had been the constant practice before the breeding season, and in consequence the birds chose another place; but in 1852 they returned to the bottle, and have annually built in it, or in a second bottle, which has lately been placed close by it, up to the present year, 1873, with the exception of one season, when a pair of great titmice took possession of their inheritance. The intruders were shot, and the tenancy, it is hoped, will not be again disturbed."
Many birds show that they have the power of not only cleverly adapting themselves to circumstances in matters concerning their nesting, but that they are also equal to unforeseen accidents, which not unfrequently occur. From the secluded haunts and hideling habits of birds of the rail kind, it would hardly be imagined that they were endowed with much intelligence. Here is a striking instance, however, to the contrary. A pair of waterhens built their nest upon an ornamental piece of water of considerable extent, which was ordinarily fed from a spring, and into which another large pond was occasionally emptied. This upon one occasion was done while the female was sitting, and, as the nest had been built at low water, the sudden influx from the second pond caused the water to rise so rapidly as to threaten the destruction of the eggs. This the birds seemed aware of, and immediately took precautions against it. The gardener on the estate, knowing of the sudden rise of water, went to look after the nest, though quite expecting to find the eggs ruined. Instead of this he saw both birds busily engaged about the nest, and adding, with all possible despatch, fresh materials to the fabric to bring it above the impending flood. This they not only succeeded in doing, but it was observed that upon the first rush of water they had removed the eggs to a distance of some feet from the margin of the pool. In the meantime the nest rose rapidly in height, and when the water began to retire the eggs were brought back and placed in the nest. In a few days these were hatched, and the young were swimming with their parents about the pool. The nest plainly showed the formation of the old and new material, and testified to the instinct or reason of the bird architects. In this connection birds have been known to adapt their nests to changed forms of architecture; and almost innumerable little devices may be seen in individual nests tending to their special safety or protection. As an instance of adaptation to haunt it may be mentioned that in the north, buzzards and ravens invariably nest among the rocks of the crags, whilst in the south their nests are just as invariably found in trees.
Both the eggs and plumage of game birds offer interesting instances of this adaptation. The pencilled plumage of the snipe lying still in the brown marshes it is impossible to detect, although the birds get up at one's feet everywhere. The same may be said of the woodcock in the leaf-strewn woods, and of the nests and eggs of both species. The eggs of the wild-duck assimilate to the colour of the green reeds, and those of the lapwing to the ploughed field or the upland. The colour of the red grouse conforms very nearly to that of the purple heather among which it lies, as do the richly-speckled eggs. The partridge has a double protection. It is difficult to pick out her quiet brown plumage from a hedge-bottom so long as she remains still. She adopts the duns and browns and yellows of the dead leaves, among which she crouches. When she leaves her eggs she is careful to cover them with dead oak-leaves; but this seems almost superfluous, for there is no great contrast between the tint of the eggs and that of the leaves among which they lie. A hen pheasant lying in a bracken-bed is equally difficult to detect; and this applies particularly to all the young of the game birds just mentioned. The bright, dark eyes of birds and animals frequently betray them, as these are almost invariably large and prominent. A short-eared owl on a peat-moss I have mistaken for a clod of turf, and a gaunt heron with wind-fluttered feathers for drift stuff caught in the swaying branches of the stream. Another characteristic case of protective imitation is furnished by the nightjar or goatsucker. This night-flying bird, half owl, half swallow, rests during the day on bare bits of limestone on the fells. Its mottled plumage exactly corresponds with the grey of the stones, and its eggs, in colour like its plumage, are laid upon the bare ground without the slightest vestige of a nest—and again entirely resemble the stone.
It will be remarked that all the birds mentioned live much upon the ground, obtaining the principal part of their food therefrom, and that therefore they have need of special protection. Incubation in every case takes place on the ground; and just as the imitation of the plumage of the female bird is perfect, so will the fact tell upon the survival of the species. There is no such need of protection for tree builders, as these, for the most part, are out of the way of predatory animals. The chaffinch is by far the most abundant bird of our fields and woods; and there is one good reason why it should be so. It invariably covers its nest on the outside with dead lichens, like to those of the trunk against which it is built. Against boys and other predatory creatures the device succeeds admirably, and the chaffinch as a species flourishes vigorously. The wren constructs her nest of moss, placing it upon a mossy background so as to present no sharp contrasts. Sometimes she interweaves one or two dead oak-leaves, so as to render the deception more deceitful; and, from the number of wrens which abound, she evidently succeeds. Starlings and sparrows and jackdaws, which build in holes at a considerable elevation, and have therefore less need of protection, hang out straws and sticks and bits of wool and feather as impudent advertisements. Wheatears and such birds as build in low walls cannot afford to do this, but instead build neat nests leaving no trace without. Several of our leaf-warblers drag dead leaves to the outside of their nests, and a hundred others employ like ingenuities.
With regard to sexual colour, the dull summer plumage which characterises so many ground-breeding birds is all the more remarkable as they are the mates of males for the most part distinguished by unusual brilliancy. The few exceptions to this rule are of the most interesting character, and go eminently to prove it. In these exceptions it happens that the female birds are more brightly plumaged than the males. But in nearly the whole of the cases this remarkable trait comes out—that the male actually sits upon the eggs. Now this fact more than any other would seem to indicate that the protection afforded by obscure colouring is directly intended to secure the bird's safety during the most critical period of its life-history. And it has been seen that the law of protective colouring most influences those birds which breed on the ground. One remarkable instance of this may be given, that of the dotterel, a bird already mentioned. This is a species of our own avi-fauna, one which breeds on the summits of the highest mountains. Mr. Gould has remarked that dotterel have not unfrequently been shot during the breeding season with the breast bare of feathers, caused by sitting on the eggs; and the writer knows of his personal knowledge that the shepherds on the Cumbrian mountains occasionally kill dotterel on the actual nest, and that these almost invariably turn out to be males. In winter the colouring of the sexes is almost identical; but when the breeding season comes round the female dons a well-defined, conspicuous plumage, while it is found that the dull-coloured male alone sits upon the eggs. Mr. Wallace has pointed out that bee-eaters, motmots, and toucans—among the most brilliant of tropical birds—all build in holes in trees. In each of these cases there is but little difference in the plumage of the sexes, and where this is so the above rule is almost invariable. Again, our native kingfisher affords an illustration. The orange-plumaged orioles have pensile nests, which is a characteristic of the order to which they belong, most of the members of which are conspicuous. Bird enemies come from above rather than below, and it will be seen that the modifications referred to all have reference to the upper plumage.
In 1888 an egg of a great auk was sold for one hundred and sixty guineas, whilst more recently an egg of the same species fetched two hundred and twenty-five pounds; and although these may seem enormous sums to give for a relic, the transactions are not without others to keep them in countenance. Only a few years ago two eggs of the same kind fetched one hundred and one hundred and two guineas respectively; while the egg first named realised thirty-three pounds ten shillings a little over twenty years ago. At that time it was discovered, together with four others, packed away in a dust-covered box in the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons, these being sold in 1865. From this it would seem that in the ornithological market the complete shell of a great auk's egg is worth nearly one hundred and seventy pounds, and a broken one only seventy pounds less. It will be seen that the purchase of one of these may be a good investment; and what a mine of wealth a great auk that was a good layer might prove to its fortunate possessor can only be conjectured. At the present time the number of eggs of this species known to exist is sixty-six, twenty-five of which are in museums and forty-one in private collections. Of the total number forty-three are retained in Great Britain. When a bird becomes so rare that the individual remains can be counted, the same may be taken to be practically extinct as a species. The great auk has pursued a policy of extinction for the past two or three centuries, until now, like the mighty moa and the dodo, it has ceased to exist. The great auk, or gare-fowl, was one of those birds which, from long disuse, had lost at once the power of flight and preservation. It was a great shambling bird, as large as a goose, and ill adapted to travel on land. How these things told against it may be inferred from the story of one Captain Richard Whitbourne, who writing of the discovery of Newfoundland in 1620, says that among the abundant water-fowl of these parts are penguins (great auks) "as bigge as geese, and flye not, for they have but a short wing, and they multiply so infinitely, upon a certain flat island, that men drive them from thence upon a boord, into their boats by hundreds at a time." This process of extinction went on in Iceland and elsewhere until about the middle of the present century hardly any birds remained. The Icelanders robbed the auks of their eggs for domestic use, and upon one occasion the crew of a British privateer remained upon one of the skerries all day killing many birds and treading down their eggs and young. This went on until the last birds were taken, and there is but the faintest hope that it may yet linger on in the inaccessible North. Although awkward, and travelling with the greatest difficulty on land, the great auk was perfectly at home in the water, and travelled both upon and under the surface with the rapidity of a fish. The time of haunting the land was during the breeding season, in early summer. At this period the auk resorted to the rocks, in the dark recesses of which the females deposited one large egg—large even for the size of the bird. These had a whitish-green ground, streaked with brown, and nearly five inches in length.
CHAPTER VIII.
MINOR BRITISH GAME BIRDS
At the time of the heaviest bird migrations in autumn, vast flocks of woodcocks pitch on the English coasts. They stay through the winter, and in spring the majority again cross the wild North Sea en route to their northern breeding haunts. The woodcock is a "shifting" species, and just as any bird is erratic in its wanderings, so it is interesting to naturalists. The British Association is already on the track of the "woodsnipe," as are several individual observers in a more literal sense. There was a time when the nesting of the woodcock in England was of such rare occurrence as to be recorded in the natural history journals. We now know that it has bred in almost every English county, and that the number of birds which remain in our woods to breed is annually increasing. This fact proves that the woodcock's habits are being modified, and ornithologists have now to discover the reasons of its extended range.
In coming to this country, woodcocks generally travel in the night and against a head-wind. Those which are exhausted pitch upon the east coast, and here lie resting until nightfall, when they pass on. The probability is that if these birds had not experienced a rough passage they would not have touched the eastern seaboard, but would have kept well in the upper currents of the air, and first dropped down in our western woods or even those of Ireland. The migratory bodies are usually preceded by flocks of tiny goldcrests; and so invariable is this rule that the latter have come to be called "woodcock-pilots." The males precede the females by a few days; the latter bringing with them the young that have been bred that year. It is a point worthy of notice, and one upon which much confusion exists, that the birds that come to us are usually in the very best condition. Soon after their arrival they disperse themselves over the leaf-strewn woods, the same birds being known to resort to the same spots for many successive years. They seek out the warmer parts of the wood, and in such secluded situations sleep and rest during the day. At dusk they issue forth in their peculiar owl-like flight, to seek their feeding grounds. Like many birds they have well-defined routes, and daily at twilight may be seen flying along the rides and paths of the woods or skirting along certain portions of plantations. Coppice-belts they like best, especially such as contain spring-runs. It is here that the bird most easily finds food, the soft ground enabling it to probe quickly and to a considerable depth in search of earthworms. These constitute its principal diet, and the quantity that a single bird will devour is enormous. The long mobile bill of the woodcock is a study in itself. The rapidity with which the bird uses it in following a worm in the ground is marvellous. It is extremely flexible—so much so as to be bent and twisted into every shape without suffering harm—and it is as sensitive as flexible.
Every sportsman knows that woodcocks are here to-day, gone to-morrow. He often finds that where there were plenty yesterday not a single 'cock remains. Ireland, perhaps, affords the best shooting. It was here that the Earl of Clermont shot fifty brace in one day. This feat was the result of a wager; and the bag was made by two o'clock in the afternoon, with a single-barrelled flint-lock. The birds were shot in a moist wood; and it is in such spots on the mild west coast that the woodcock finds its favourite haunt. In England the birds affect coppice-woods, frequenting most those which are wet, and such as have rich deposits of dead and decaying leaves. Most of these copses are of oak and birch and hazel, and being only of a few years' growth are thick in the top. Killing 'cock, as they dash through the twigs of these and seldom rising above the bushes, is one great test of a shooter's skill. Then the birds have a habit of dropping down at a short distance, which almost invariably deludes the inexperienced gunner. When they are put up from their resting places during the day the flight is rapid; at evening it is slow. It is now that they are easiest to shoot; though in some parts of the country they are still taken in nets as they fly at dusk through the paths of the woods. Netting woodcocks was at one time the common way of taking them; for they have always been highly esteemed as food. Another method of capture was by "gins" and "springs;" and it would seem that in times past the "woodsnipe" was considered a stupid bird. None of the denizens of the woods conforms better or more closely to its environment. The browns and duns and yellows of its plumage all have their counterpart in the leaves among which it lies; and it has been pointed out that the one conspicuous ornament of the bird is covered by a special provision from the gaze of those for whose admiration it is not intended. This is the bright colouring of the tail feathers, which cannot be seen except at the will of the bird or in flight. Its protection lacks in one thing, however, and that is its large dark eye; this is full, bright, and (so to speak) obtrusive. It is not often that a special provision of this kind is injurious to its owner; but the lustre which beams from the woodcock's eye is apt to betray its presence, and even to negative the advantage of its protective colouring. This has long been known. Hudibras has it that:
"Fools are known by looking wise,
As men find woodcocks by their eyes."
The woodcock is an early breeder, the eggs being found by the second week in March. These are usually four in number; and the nest is placed among dry grass, leaves, and fern. The young are able to run immediately they are hatched, and are sometimes found with portions of shell adhering to their down. In a few days they are led to the vicinity of water, where they remain until they are able to fly. It is said that a small bank of moss is sometimes constructed by the old birds, upon which worms are placed. In its yielding substance they have their first lesson in boring, and obtain the kind of food which constitutes their chief diet in after life. One of the most interesting traits about the woodcock is the fact of its occasionally conveying its young through the air; which is done by only one or two other birds. This is no recent discovery. The fact was known as early as the middle of last century; though Gilbert White rightly surmised that those observers were mistaken who fancied the young were conveyed either by or in the bill. It is just as erroneous, however, to substitute the claws, as some have done, for the bill. The truth is, that when the parent bird wishes to convey her young one from a place of danger to one of safety, the tiny thing is gently pressed between the feet and against the breast, the aid of the bill being resorted to only when the burden has been hastily taken up. In this way the whole of the brood is sometimes removed from one part of a wood to another, if the birds have been much disturbed. This trait may be confirmed by any one who will look out the bird in its haunts, and is all the more interesting as it seems to be quite an acquired one. The bird is in no way adapted to transport its young through the air.
There are upwards of a dozen species of British plover; birds interesting to the naturalist, dear to the heart of the shore-shooter and to the sportsman of the marshes. Some of these are summer visitants to our shores, others come in winter, while a few stay with us throughout the year. The common green plover or peewit, with its crest, its peculiarly rounded wings, its plaintive cry, is the best known; and this species breeds with us, as the abundance of its eggs shows. In autumn the old birds and their young descend from the uplands where the latter are bred, and seek out the mud-banks and ooze-flats on which to spend the winter. Plashy meadows and marshes are also favourite feeding grounds; and here the lapwing makes "game" for an army of gunners. The vast flocks of plovers that congregate in autumn are said to be growing in numbers. Hundreds of thousands of eggs are collected annually; bunches of green plover are displayed at the gameshops during the autumn; and yet there are more of these birds in England than ever there were. This may be accounted for by the closeness with which the plover conforms to its environment through every season. The plover is dainty eating, as are also its eggs. "To live like a plover"—meaning to live on the wind—is a saying of no aptitude. All the species are voracious feeders on substantials. Their chief food consists of insects and worms from ploughed land; but immediately upon the setting in of frost they betake themselves to the mosses and marshes, or even to the coast and estuaries of rivers. Here they feed liberally and at large, becoming plump and fat. On these grounds the birds often remain till the return of spring. Although many are shot, most of the birds that find their way to market are taken in nets by professional fowlers. When the flocks are heaviest, and during hard weather, from fifty to eighty plovers are sometimes secured at one raising of the net.
Flying with the lapwing may often be seen flocks or "trips" of golden plover—one of the most beautiful birds of its family, and much less common as a species than the last. Like the rare dotterel it breeds on the highest mountains, and in the nesting season has the golden markings of its back set off by the rich velvety black of its breast. This is an adornment donned only for the summer season, and is changed at the time of the autumnal migration from the elevated breeding grounds to the lowlands. At all times it has a piping, plaintive whistle, which conforms well to the wild solitudes where it is heard. The flocks of golden plover are usually smaller than those of green, and are more compact. When feeding together the two kinds are not easily discriminated. The moment they take wing, however, a difference is detected; the golden plover flying straight and quick, often in a V-shaped bunch; the green going loosely and without apparent order. All plover are restless and shifting before a change of weather, and when this is for the worse the golden plover always fly south. They are delicate birds, in fact, and little fitted to withstand the rigours of our northern climate. As a table bird it is more dainty even than the green plover, and fetches a higher price. The death-dealing punt-gun is terribly destructive to this species, from the compact mode of flying described above. As many as a hundred birds have been killed at a single shot.
The beautiful little ringed plover, or sea-lark, is another of our breeding species. It is permanently resident on our coasts, and is one of the most interesting of British shore-birds. At no time infrequent, there is a considerable accession in winter; and it is a pretty sight to watch a flock of these feeding among sand or shingle, or even upon a mud-flat. It is in such spots, too, that it lays its creamy-spotted eggs (pointed like those of all plovers), often without the slightest semblance of a nest. No shore bird is as nimble as the ringed plover. It runs with the utmost grace and ease, picking up tiny crustaceans as it goes. Although not uncommon, the ringed plover is somewhat locally distributed, which may also be said of the Kentish plover. This is a rare species, and is very seldom found in numbers far from the south-eastern counties—from the saltings of Essex and Kent. In haunt and habit it much resembles the "sea-lark."
Only one other shore bird is resident with us throughout the year; this is the oyster-catcher. Sea-pie and olive it is also called on some parts of our coasts. It is easily distinguished by its well-defined black and white markings, and every shore-shooter knows its shrill rattling whistle, its short uneasy flights, and its restless paddlings up and down the ooze. Watch the sea-pie from behind some boulder and see how admirably adapted is its bill to its wants. Flattened sideways and as hard as stone, no bivalve can resist it. It breeds among the weed and driftwood just above high-water mark, and lays three or four eggs of a cream-coloured ground, blotched and spotted with varying shades of rich dark brown.
The little ringed plover is an exceedingly rare British bird, and is like our own ringed plover in miniature.
The grey plover and the turnstone are spring and autumn visitants, having their breeding haunts in the far north, though it is probable that the first has bred a few times within the British Islands. Specimens have been seen in the London markets attired in summer plumage, and the birds themselves have been observed about the Fame Islands in June. The grey plover is fairly numerous after its advent in September, keeping in small flocks and sticking closely to the coast lines. It is larger than the green and golden plovers, is sometimes seen in company with them, and like them assumes a black breast in the breeding season. It occurs less frequently in the bags of the puntsman than the birds just named; it is rarely obtained far inland. Like its congeners it forms a delicate morsel to the gourmet. The turnstone, also known as the Hebridal sandpiper, is a handsome bird in black, white, and chestnut. In its haunts it feeds upon various sea and sand haunting creatures, which it obtains by turning over the stones with its bill. In this office the birds often assist each other. It comes in September in limited numbers, going north to its breeding haunts early in spring.
