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Crossbills: Habits of; Nest Snowy Owl Great-eared Owl Hoopoe
Shrike Tawny and Snow Buntings Lizards Singular Pets Toads:
Utility of; Combats of Adders Dog and Snakes Large Snake
Blind-Worm.
WHILST walking through the
extensive fir and larch woods in this neighbourhood, I am often much
amused by the proceedings of those curious little birds the crossbills.
They pass incessantly from tree to tree with a jerking quick flight in
search of their food, which consists of the seeds of the fir and larch.
They extract these from the cones with the greatest skill and rapidity,
holding the cone in one foot, and cutting it up quickly and thoroughly
with their powerful beak, which they use much after the manner of a pair
of scissors. When the flock has stripped one tree of all the sound cones,
they simultaneously take wing, uttering at the same time a sharp harsh
chattering cry. Sometimes they fly off to a considerable height, and after
wheeling about for a short time, suddenly alight again on some
prolific-looking tree, over which they disperse immediately, hanging and
swinging about the branches and twigs, cutting off the cones, a great many
of which they fling to the ground, often with a kind of impatient jerk.
These cones, I conclude, are without any ripe seed. They continue uttering
a constant chirping while in search of their food on the branches. I have
never succeeded in finding the nest of the crossbill, though I am
confident that they breed in this country, having seen the birds during
every month of the year, so that either some barren ones must remain, or
they hatch their young here. The nest has been described to me as placed
at a considerable height from the ground, at the junction of some large
branch with the main stem.
The crossbill itself is a
busy, singular-looking little fellow, as he flits to and fro, or climbs,
parrot-like, up and down the branches; and the cock, with his red plumage
shining in the sun, has more the appearance of some Eastern or tropical
bird than any other of our sober northern finches. When engaged in
feeding, these birds are often so intent on their occupation that they
will allow a horsehair snare, attached to the end of a long twig, to be
slipped round their necks before they fly away. In captivity they are very
tame, but restless, and are constantly tearing with their strong mandibles
at the woodwork and wires of their cage.
Altogether the crossbill is
a gay, lively bird, and, I hope, likely to increase and become a regular
inhabitant of this country, as the numerous plantations of fir and larch
which are daily being laid out afford them plenty of their favourite and
natural food.
The eastern coast of Scotland, owing to its proximity -to Sweden and
Norway, and also to the great prevalence of easterly winds, is often
visited by foreign birds. Amongst these is that splendid stranger the
snowy owl, who occasionally is blown over to our coast from his native
fastnesses amongst the mountains and forests of the north of Europe. Now
and then one of these birds is killed here, and I was told of one having
been seen two or three years back on part of the ground rented by me. He
was sitting on a high piece of muirland, and at a distance looked, said my
informant, " like a milestone." This bird was pursued for some hours, but
was not killed. The snowy owl has been also seen, to the astonishment of
the fisherman or bent-puller, on the sand-hills, where he finds plenty of
food amongst 'the rabbits that abound there. One was winged in that
district a few years ago, and lived for some time in confinement. He was a
particularly fine old bird, with perfect plumage, and of a great size. I
am much inclined to think that the great-eared owl, Strix bubo, is also
occasionally a visitor to the wildest parts of this district. A man
described to me a large bird, which he called an eagle. The bird was
sitting on a fir-tree, and his attention was called to it by the gray
crows uttering their cries of alarm and war. He went up to the tree, and
close above his head sat a great bird, with large staring yellow eyes, as
bright (so he expressed it) as two brass buttons. The man stooped to pick
up a stone or stick, and the bird dashed off the tree into the recesses of
the wood, and was not seen again. I have no doubt that, instead of an
eagle, as he supposed it to be, it was the great Strix bubo. The colour of
its eyes, the situation the bird was in on the branch of a tall fir-tree,
and its remaining quiet until the man approached so close to it, all con-
vince me that it must have been the great owl, whose loud mid- night
hootings disturb the solitude of the German forests, giving additional
weight to the legends and superstitions of the peasants of that country,
inclined as they are to belief in supernatural sounds and apparitions.
The hoopoe has been killed
in the east of Sutherlandshire, on the bent-hills near Dornock, and so
also has the rose-coloured ousel. These birds must have been driven over
by the east winds, as neither of them are inhabitants of Britain. Indeed,
many a rare and foreign bird may visit the uninhabited and desert tracts
of bent and sand along the east coast without being observed, excepting
quite by chance; and the probability is, that nine persons out of ten who
might see a strange bird would take no notice of it.
Last winter I saw a great
ash-coloured shrike or butcher-bird in my orchard. The gardener told me
that he had seen it for some hours in pursuit of the small birds, and I
found lying about the walls two or three chaffinches, which had been
killed and partly eaten, in a style unlike the performance of any bird of
prey that I am acquainted with; so much so, indeed, that before I saw the
butcher-bird, my attention was called to their dead bodies by the curious
manner in which they seemed to have been pulled to pieces. Having watched
the bird for a short time as he sat perched on an apple-tree very near me,
I went in for my gun, but did not see him again.
The tawny bunting and the
snow-bunting visit us in large flocks, especially the latter, which birds
remain here during the whole winter, appearing in greater or lesser flocks
according to the temperature. In severe weather the fields near the
sea-shore, and the shore itself, are sometimes nearly covered by them.
When the snow-buntings first arrive, in October and November, they are of
a much darker colour than they are afterwards as the winter advances. If
there is much snow, they put on a white plumage immediately. I do not know
how this change of colour is effected, but it is very visible, and appears
to depend entirely on the severity of the season. They feed a great deal
on the shore. When flying they keep in close rank, but as soon as they
alight the whole company instantly disperse, and run (not jump, like many
small birds) quickly about in search of their food, which consists
principally of small insects and minute seeds.
They often pitch to look
for these on the barest parts of the sand-hills, the dry sands always
producing a number of small flies and beetles. So fine and dry is the sand
which composes the hillocks and plains of that curious district, that
every beetle and fly that walks or crawls over its surface in calm and dry
weather leaves its track as distinctly marked on the finely pulverised
particles, as the rabbit or hare does on snow.
The footprints of the
lizards, which abound there, are very neatly and distinctly marked, till
the first breath of wind drifting the sand erases the impressions. One of
my children brought home a large lizard one day, and put it into a box,
intending to keep it as a pet, boys having strange tastes in the animals
which they select as favourites. I remember that when I was a boy at
school, I was the owner of three living petsa rat, a bat, and a snake,
all of which lived and flourished for some months under my tender care,
notwithstanding the occasional edicts sent forth from head-quarters
against any living animal whatever being kept in the school-room. But to
return to the lizard in the box. The next morning, to the children's great
delight, the lizard had become much reduced in circumference, but had
produced four young ones, who were apparently in full and vigorous
enjoyment of life. They were voted, at a consultation of the children, to
be entitled to, and worthy of liberty, and were all (mother and children)
carefully put into the garden, in a sunny corner under the wall. For my
own part, I can see nothing more disgusting in animals usually called
reptiles, such as lizards and toads, than in any other living creatures.
A toad is a most useful
member of society, and deserves the freedom of all floricultural
societies, as well as entire immunity from all the pains and penalties
which he undergoes at the hands of the ignorant and vulgar. In hotbeds and
hothouses he is extremely useful, and many gardeners take great care of
toads in these places, where they do good service by destroying beetles
and other insects. In the flower-beds too they are of similar use. Of
quiet and domestic habits, the toad seldom seems to wander far from his
seat or form under a loose stone, or at the foot of a fruit-tree or
box-edging. There are several habitues of this species in my garden, whom
I always see in their respective places during the middle of the day. In
the evening they issue out in search of their prey. I found a toad one day
caught by the leg in a horsehair snare which had been placed for birds.
The animal, notwithstanding the usual placid and phlegmatic demeanour of
its race, seemed to be in a perfect fury, struggling and scratching at
everything within his reach, apparently much more in anger than fear. Like
many other individuals of quiet exterior, toads are liable to great fits
of passion and anger, as is seen in the pools during April, when five or
six will contend for the good graces of their sultanas with a fury and
pertinacity that is quite wonderful, fighting and struggling for hours
together. And where a road intervenes between two ditches, I have seen the
battle carried on even in the dry dust, till the rival toads, in spite of
their natural aquatic propensities, became perfectly dry and covered with
sand, and in this powdered state will they continue fighting, regardless
of the heat, which shrivels up their skin, or of passers by, who may tread
on them and maim them, but cannot stop their fighting. There is more
character and energy in a toad than is supposed. After the young ones have
acquired their perfect shape, they appear to leave the water, and
frequently the roads and paths are so covered with minute but well-formed
toadlings, that it is impossible to put your foot down without crushing
some of them.
In some of the drier banks
and hills in this country, there are numerous adders; like most other
snakes, however, they never willingly fly at people, only biting when trod
upon or taken hold of. I have had my dogs occasionally, but rarely, bitten
by adders. The swelling is very severe, and only reduced after several
hours' rubbing with oil and laudanum. A retriever of mine, having been bit
by an adder, conceived the most deadly hatred against them ever after, and
killed a great number of them without being again bit; his method was to
snap quickly at the adder, biting it in two almost instantaneously, and
before the reptile could retaliate. A favourite amusement of this dog,
when he was in Sussex with me some time afterwards, used to be hunting the
hedgerows for snakes and adders. He made a most marked distinction between
the two, killing the former quietly and without hurry, but whenever he
found an adder, he darted on it with a perfect frenzy of rage, at the same
time always managing to escape the fangs of the venomous reptile, quickly
as it can use them. The poisonous teeth of the adder greatly resemble the
talons of a cat in shape, and can be raised or laid fiat on the jaw
according to the wish of their owner; indeed, the fangs of the adder,
which are hollow throughout, are only raised when he is angry, and in
self-defence. The common snake, which is quite harmless, has no such
teeth. There are stories among the peasants, of adders being seen in
Darnaway Forest, of great size and length, measuring five or six feet, but
I do not believe that there are any larger than the usual size.
I have never seen the
Anguis fragilis, or blind-worm, as it is called, but once in this country,
though I am told it is not uncommon; a man brought me one last year which
he had found floating down the river after a flood, as if swept off some
rock by the sudden rise of the water. I mentioned the circumstance to some
of my acquaintance, but could find no one who had either seen or heard of
such a creature in this country. This one was alive when brought to me,
but had received a cut which nearly divided its body in two, so that it
did not long survive.
Amongst the rare feathered
visitors to these woods, I forgot to mention the spotted woodpecker, Picas
medius, which bird I killed in Inverness-shire; I was attracted to the
spot, where he was clinging to the topmost shoot of a larch-tree, by
hearing his strange harsh cry. |
