Last sj)riiig I snccccdcd in linding and ichmlify-ing by the black jjatch on llie chin and throat of

Itthe fenude a nest belonging to the latter species. was situated in a hole in a })ollard willow, and when

CLUTCH OF TREE SPARROW’S EGGS.

SHRIKE ON NEST.

204

WITH NATURE AND A CAMERA.

I first discovered it contained only one egg—the one with the large blotches upon it in the illustration of a clutch of Tree Sparrow's eggs on the preceding page. I visited the nest again exactly a week later, and was surprised to find that it had six more eggs in it, all very similar to each other, but differing widely from the first one laid. My observations proved that in this case, at any rate, the egg, unlike the rest of those in the clutch in the character of its markings, was laid first, and that the species can upon occasion lay at least one more egg than it has been given credit for even by our greatest authorities on British ornithology, who place the outside limit of a clutch of Tree Sparrow's eggs at six in number.

It is surprising how much is expected of a man who takes an interest in birds and their eggs by people who know little or nothing of the subject themselves. They will ask him to identify all sorts of eggs with certainty without a scrap of evidence on their part saving the empty shell, and even go so far as to paint white eggs with all kinds of colours. A wag once sent me a small domestic fowl's egg, very cleverly marked with by no means unreasonable colours, and a request that I should identify it for him. I promptly replied that it was a common Humbug's egg from Bamboozle-'em-land.

Although birds' eggs, as a rule, follow pretty closely the common type of their species in regard to coloration and markings, extraordinary departures are sometimes met with, and I believe that such variations are generally due to the indifferent health of their layers. I have once or twice met with common Wrens' eggs without markings of any sort, and some years ago took a clutch of pure white eggs from a House Sparrow's nest. I have

ABNORMAL EGGS.

205

also seen a Chaffinch's nest containing five pale greenish-blue unmarked eggs. I found a Blackbird's nest in the spring of 1896 containing four small greenish-grey unspotted eggs, the shells of which were rough and granulated.

Some birds lay their eggs straight off, one

COAL TIT.

every day, and then commence to sit, whilst others, probably influenced by the character of the weather, lay irregularly, missing a day or two as they proceed. I have endeavoured to make a series of systematic observations on this point, but accidents and lack of time to carry them out properly have rendered my figures unworthy of tabulation.

What puzzles me in regard to some birds is that they build in such cramped situations and lay so

mam' co'gs that tlicy cannot jjossibly cover them all except two deep, and yet those in the bottom laver receive a.sufficient amount of heat to incu-l)ate them. I have seen Coal Tits' eg-gs disposed in this way, aiul the bottom row had each worked themselves such deej) ind(Mitations in the materials with which the nest was composed as to be half buried. I have also seen a Moor lien's nest wdth nine eo'gs in it, some of which were piled u\Hm the others. Of course, it may be said that a sitting-bird turns her eggs over daily, but even then one would think that the varial)le amount of heat generated around them must be detrimental to the embryo chick. In the case of the Coal I'it just mentioned, I very nnu'h cpiestion whether they were turned over at all, because such an action would have prevented the great amount of embedment of the ecro-s in the nmterials of which the bottom of the nest was formed. ^Members of the Plover family greatly dislike their eggs to lie any way except with their points to the centre of the nest, and, when a boy, I used to alter the disposition of the eggs of Peewits and Golden Plovers in order to see how quickly they would set them to rights again.

According to my experience, birds are not nearly so particular al)Out their nests and eggs as is popularly supposed. I recollect once examining a l)i])per's nest, situated in a horizontal cleft of rock, and containing four eggs, which were centi-ed romid a sharp ])i('ce of stone ])roje('ting right I have also seen a 'haffinch'sthrough its bottom. ( nest with a piece of blackthorn showing through it, although it was cpiite linished and contained eggs.

Starlings frequcnl]' di-o]) theii- eggs about in the fields. Pheasants, i*arti-i(li;es, (Jrouse, VAdcv Ducks,

THE STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE.

207

Wrens, and Tits, there is every reason to believe, occasionally lay their eggs in the nests of other birds of their own species, and, in the case of the first-named two, I have found them mixed together in the same nest.

With a view to testing how far certain birds will tolerate the eggs of others of a different species in their nests, I commenced a series of experiments last spring in the neighbourhood of Elstree. I discovered that a Thrush will take no notice whatever of the introduction of a Blackbird's egg to her nest, and that the latter bird is equally indifferent to an exchange with her lighter-coloured neighbour. I intended to endeavour to carry out the exchange to entire clutches, but, unfortunately, my experiments were all ruined by Carrion Crows and mischievous boys, of which we can boast a goodly number in our particular corner of Hertfordshire.

As some indication of the great struggle for existence going on amongst birds, I have, from close observation and a pretty extensive experience, little hesitation in saying that I do not believe that one-third of the eggs laid by British wild birds, preserved and otherwise, ever produce in any single season chicks which have the good fortune to grow to adults. Egg collectors, schoolboys, and savage destroyers who despoil for the mere love of annihilating the beautiful; table and manufacturing requirements; bird-catchers who take clutches of young song-birds; Eagles, Falcons, Hawks, Owls, Ravens, Crows, Rooks, Magpies, Jays, and Gulls; foxes, dogs, cats, rats, stoats, weasels, and snakes; bad weather and accidents—all claim a tithe either of sitting hens, eggs, or young birds.

Some birds' eggs and young have to trust for protection entirely to their close harmonisation with

-•'•'^ WITH XATVUK AXD A C.UIKRA.

suiToiiiidiiig objects, and this they often do with the most remarkable success. I remember a case of a dozen people wandering- all over ([iiite a small patch of sand and shino-le in search of sea-shells, and yet missinf^' a Ringed l^lover's eg-gs, which, by a miracle, also escaped the much more likely calamity of beinii" trodden upon. I visited the place a few days afterwards, when the young birds had been hatched, and, although I made a systematic search for them, three in mnnber, I failed entirely to discover a siliii'le bird. I accordinfily retired to a roofless shed sixty yards distant, and well above the little sj^it of sand and shinu-le, which I kept under close observation through my held-glasses. fn al)out ten miiuites the female ran down from a ridge of rocks, and standing head to wind began to call in sweet low notes. Pi-esently a little grey tuft of down ran swiftly up to her, and disappeared beneath her right wing, and was instantly followed by another which came from an opposite direction, and sought cover by ducking its head and going beneath her puffed out breast feathers. A third darted u]), but did not innnediately take shelter, although his mother continued to call for him. lie dallied for a while in examination of a small pool of water, which was thickly coated with bright green weed and slime, and after picking up, or pretending to do so, one or two morsels of food in the most business-like fashion, retired beneath his mother's sheltering wing, and she ceased to call.

After a while I dashed down u})on them at my utmost speed. The old bird ran straight away for fifteen yards or so, and then began to tund)le about and practise her decoying antics. 'V]u^ young-ones took their departure each in an o])])osite direction, and by the time I i-eacluMl the spot

'^"^ '^'^^'^^^^'^f^'^^y^f 1

YOUNG RINGED PLOVER ON SHINGLE.

YOUNG RI.NGED PLOVER ON BLACK CLOTH

there was not the slig'litest sign of one of them. Eventually, however, I discovered all three, and u])on measuring, found that the one which had travelled farthest away from the place where its mother crouched had run six yards before clapping down to hide. In order to show the wonderful way in which these little creatures harmonise with their surroundings, and thus escape detection, I got my brother to photograph one of them exactly where it crouched, and then folding a black focussing cloth up I placed it beneath the chick, and had another study made. By this means, I think, we have succeeded in illustrating with some degree of clearness the value of protective coloration, so far as the limitations of black and white will allow.

Young Curlews, Golden PloA'ers, Peewits, and Sandpipers, all run about directly they leave the shell; indeed, sometimes actually before they have accomplished their deliverance. I have on more than one occasion seen a baby Peewit wandering about with half of its prison house still attached to its downy rump; and if a hawk or other bird of prey should ha})pen to appear overhead, they instinctively clap flat upon the ground, and remain motionless as stones until the danger has })assed. In order to illustrate the benefits of keei)ing absolutely still and trusting for safet}' to the protective coloration of its upper })arts, I sought systematically for a young (\n-leAV last sumnier on the Westmorland hills, and when I found it half hidden in a tuft of withered grass, 1 got my brother to make a photograph of it exactly where it lay, and then another of the long-legged creature standing on the muddy shores of a half-siltcd-uj) cattle pond. As soon as the second })icture had been taken, the 1)ird delibei-atclN' walked into the

YOUNG CURLEW STANDING UP,

YOUNG CURLEW CROUCHING.

water, Swam straight across, and upon regaining the opposite bank, ran away swiftly up a steep hillside. I have often been astonished at the great distance at which Curlews can be heard calling, but never had any notion of the innnense power of their vocal organs until the day I caught the one figured overleaf. I was sitting beneath a stone wall with the bird on my lap waiting until my brother re-charged some photographic slides, when its mother flew close overhead, uttering her familiar call-note, which her offspring instantly answered in a loud, harsh, ear-splitting cry of the most unmusical character I have ever heard.

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