on ledges of crags dropping sheer into the ocean, for however calm the water may be, it is impossible to focus and get a plate in and exposed before the tide has altered the position of the vessel. We have succeeded in making some very good pictures from steam-launches and sailing and rowing boats, but of necessity the conditions require fast plates, a good light, and a rapid exposure.

A COlOiEU OF THE JfAKNE ISLANDS.

CHAPTER III.

BIRDS.

THE best time for studying and photographing wild birds in their native haunts is undoubtedly the spring. They are then tamest and most numerous, and their nests, eggs, and young furnish endless pleasure in finding, observing, and photographing.

April, May, and June are the months during which by far the greatest number of birds lay their eggs and bring forth their young; but many commence before the first-named month, and a large number continue to breed after the last. Of course it means the spending of a good deal of time in the fields, woods, moors, and marshes; but this is an essential part of a field-naturalist's training, and in its exercise lies one of the chief charms of natural history. Many young fellows, engaged in business in London and other large towns, urge that they do not get the leisure time necessary to enable them to do much outdoor work. For the encouragement of ah1 such, let me mention that my brother and I enjoy but a few days' holiday over the " chronic fortnight " every year, and are in consequence out during suitable weather in the

springtime, morning after morning, by 4.30 a.m. Men who do not rise early miss much, for the sweetness of many days is all unfolded in the early morning, when the dewdrops are glistening on the grass, and the bloom-laden hedgerows are giving forth their scents; while blackbirds, thrushes, larks, chaffinches, and numerous other songsters vie with each other in giving voice to the joy within them. These are things we enjoy over and over again and remember with pleasure^ and yet by nine o'clock we are in the centre and bustle of London town. In searching for nests of birds that build in hedgerows and bushes, it is a good plan to select the shady and, if possible, the lower side, as the light coining through the branches and foliage will greatly facilitate the discovery of any nest situated therein. In examining furze, juniper, bramble, heather, and low bushes, it is well to go cautiously to work, and tap them on either hand with a walking-stick. The rustle of a bird's wings will not often escape the ears of the searcher, even if their owner manages to elude his eyes. On hearing or seeing a bird leave a bush, the search for its nest needs to be conducted with a great deal of care, for many ornithological treasures are ruined by young naturalists and beginners in their eager haste to find and examine them.

The best way to discover the nests and eggs of all, or nearly all, the members of the family of

waders is to lie down and watch through a pair of good field-glasses such birds as indicate by their behaviour the presence of a nest. Provided the observer keeps quite still, and does not make any noise calculated to create alarm, half an hour's waiting will generally result in the finding of what is wanted. Another important point about this kind of field - work is when a bird has been watched on to her nest say a quarter of a mile away to make careful mental notes of as many landmarks as possible in a direct hue between the place where the student is situated and the precise spot whereon the nest is located. This very necessary precaution is often overlooked in the excitement of the moment the bird rises directly she sees the observer stir, and before he has covered half the intervening distance the aspect of the ground is changed, and he has hopelessly lost the place. When a bird will not come near its nest, or the place where it is suspected to be, it will often betray the whereabouts of its treasure by rushing up to drive some winged intruder that has accidentally wandered too near away, and a patient wait is sure to be rewarded. I found a whimbrels nest in the Shetlands last summer in this way. She would not go to it for a considerable while, and just as I began to doubt whether she really had one at all, a Richardson's skua flew nearer to it than she cared to see him venture, and a vicious

swoop convinced me that a further wait would be rewarded. And it certainly was, for I had the pleasure of seeing my first whimbrel's nest, containing four beautifully marked eggs, which my brother photographed in situ. Let me add, for the satisfaction of all bird-lovers, that we left the nest and eggs undisturbed to help to swell the ranks of this much-harassed and none too numerous

species. The secret of success in finding birds' nests lies in cultivating and quickening the powers of observation. As an instance of what may be accomplished by training this faculty, I may mention an incident in my own career. My brother and I had specially journeyed down to Norfolk to photograph the nest and eggs of a bearded tit, or reed ! when we got there somepheasant; but, alas ruthless hand had removed the last one of which the marshmen had any knowledge, and they were extremely doubtful whether we should be able to find another, as it was late in the season. However, nothing daunted, we tried hard and long, and failed; but when we were on our way home something unexpected happened. One of the two old marshmen who accompanied us suddenly remembered that he wanted to show us a wild duck's nest containing twelve eggs. We were tired and gloomy over our ill-luck, and didn't care a fig about seeing the duck's nest, as we had examined many scores belonging to the species

before; but it was not in us to be heartless enough to trample upon an old man's enthusiasm and hurt his feelings by refusing to go and see an object which he thought would interest us; so away we ah1 coasted in our two little boats through the reeds. AVhen we arrived at the small circular island on which it was situated, I allowed my guide to approach the wild duck's nest alone, as he was not quite certain of its exact locality, whilst I stood at a point of vantage and kept my eyes open. Directly he got close up to her, the bird rose with a great clatter, and took her departure. She had not flown more than three yards before I observed a male bearded tit rise from beneath her, and make off to some tall reeds thirty or forty yards away, where he was immediately joined by his mate. We searched the place where he rose carefully, but in vain; and our native companions were both quite sure there couldn't be a nest. The fact of the tit getting up in the way it did, and being joined immediately by its mate, aroused my suspicions; but its sex puzzled me and weakened my faith in its having come from a nest to some extent. However, we each took up points of vantage round about the place, and began to wait and watch. By-and-by a sedge-warbler flew in, and alighting near the wild duck's nest, began to hop about leisurely amongst the broken-down reeds and tangled masses of coarse brown dead grass. It was

followed in a little while by a pair of bearded tits, but they did not stay long.

My companions began to grow weary of waiting, and so did the duck of our presence near her nest, for she commenced to beat the water with her wings in a little open channel close by in the hope of attracting our attention and drawing us off; but the tits were hanging about closer than ever to the place where I suspected they had a nest, and I persuaded the old marshmen to stay a little longer. One of them crept up and covered the duck's eggs with his handkerchief, and then Ave remained absolutely still for a while. My nearest neighbour thought he had seen one of the tits go to the nest; but he had his eye on the sedge - warbler, which had gone deep down in search of some insect, as I could easily make out by the aid of my field-glasses. Shortly after this the male reed pheasant disappeared, and the female flew away. I indicated to my companions the exact place where I had seen him last, and we all closed in stealthily from different points of the compass. off a beautiful andWhen we got close up he flew particularly well-hidden nest, containing six eggs.

Birds'-nesting is very much like fishing, as one of its greatest charms lies in the glorious uncertainty of one's luck.

In wading amongst reeds, rushes, and other aquatic vegetation on the banks of rivers, tarns, and ponds, it is necessary to exercise a good deal

of care, especially if alone; for once, whilst searching for nests on the shores of a northern tarn, I had a narrow escape from disappearing beneath the treacherous surface of a deep moss-bog, into which I foolishly ventured too far.

The nests of ground-builders, such as larks pipits, and buntings, I have always found most easily by walking across their haunts in the evening; however, they are, as a rule, dropped upon in sufficient numbers by accident whilst roaming about any country-side where they breed.

Those of grouse, partridges, pheasants, and many other birds of special interest and importance to game preservers and sportsmen, should be studied under the superintendence of some sympathetic gamekeeper, who will, for a small consideration, also help with other birds, such as hawks, crows, jays, ravens, buzzards and falcons. The males of some species, such as whinchats, wheatears, stonechats, robins, and shrikes, betray the nesting-places of their mates either by hanging about in the immediate vicinity, and making an undue amount of demonstration upon the approach of anything they may consider in the light of an enemy, or by feeding the sitting birds whilst under observation. Nests containing young birds may generally be found by sitting down and quietly watching through a pair of field-glasses their parents go to feed them. The courtship of birds is an extremely inter-

esting phase of their lives, and correspondingly difficult to study, apart from mere brute-fighting for the fair. Whilst my brother waits inside one of our hiding contrivances for some bird to return to her nest and be photographed, I often wander round, or sit at a respectable distance, field-glasses in hand and as still as a statue. One morning last spring I watched a pair of red-backed shrikes, or butcher-birds, sweethearting, and the antics of the male were both amusing and interesting. He flew up into a tolerably high oak and began to shake his wings, which he allowed to droop loosely by his sides as if he were stricken with palsy. The female followed and, perching close beside her lord and master, listened attentively to some poor attempts at a warbling kind of song, which was accompanied by an awkward sort of dance. When this entertainment had lasted for half a minute or so, the gay Lothario flung himself headlong from his perch and sailed through the air with outstretched wings to another coign of vantage, evidently for the express purpose of showing off the richly-coloured plumage of his upper parts. He then began to quiver his drooping wings all over again, and if his companion did not immediately join him he returned to fetch her. Once or twice he flew down to the ground, and picking up a dainty morsel of food flew back and gave it to his sweetheart in the most gallant manner. During their love-making they wandered along a hedgerow close past me, as

Page 6 of 24