For The Hawkeye O. and O. BIRD NESTING IN THE NORTH OF ENGLAND.
BY WALTER RAINE, TORONTO, CANADA.
Crossing the stream above Thornton Force, we ascend a hill; and on reaching the top a splendid panorama opens before us. Towards the west, the river Lune wends its way for nearly twenty miles, and after passing through the town of Lancaster, empties itself into Morcambe Bay. The sun is shining on the sea, which is twenty miles away, although it does not appear half that distance. The atmosphere is very clear in this region, and taking out our field glass we plainly see several ships and steamers sailing in the Irish Sea. Towards the north are the mountain peaks of Cumberland and Westmoreland, standing out boldly; to the east stands Ingleborough mountain, towards the foot of which we make our way. We soon cross another stream which runs over Beezley Falls and down through another fairy gorge called Crina Bottom, which is similar to the one we have just traversed, with numerous cascades, and where more water ouzels, wagtails and redpolls breed; but we have not time to stay here, wishing to get on to the moors to find some plover’s eggs.
Crossing some fields we find a nest of the skylark with four eggs. The mate is soaring high in the air and pouring out his joyous strains; it reminds us of the old German hymn: “Hark! Hark! the Lark at Heaven’s gate sings.” He is truly a wonderful songster. Immediately on leaving the ground, he begins to pour out his song, and soaring upward and upward, until he is a mere speck in the sky, when he begins to descend and does not cease singing until he reaches the earth again.
The titlark is one of the commonest birds of this district and we come across several nests, by the birds starting from in front of our feet. Their nests are always on the ground, made of dried grass, lined with hair: and contain from four to six eggs of a dusky brown, mottled over with darker brown, some having black hair lines around the egg.
A wheatear flying from out of some stones attracts our notice; and here is a nest made of grass and rabbit’s fur, containing six pale blue eggs, not unlike the American blue-birds. This wheatear is called stonechat in America, though it must not be confounded with the English stonechat which is a different species.
We now reach the moors and are soon up to the knees in heather. Bird life here is very numerous. Lapwing plovers fly over our heads, crying “pewit, pewit” in a plaintive note; long-billed curlews are screaming loudly; golden plovers are whistling; red grouse are crowing; ring ouzel are calling; and above all can be heard the welcome cry of the cuckoo. High in the air, several snipes are drumming. This noise is caused by the bird’s wings as it rapidly descends in the air. Nothing is more delightful than a ramble over a Yorkshire moor, where the purple heather grows in place of grass, relieved here and there with stretches of bracken, gray rocks and boulders. A lapwing rises some distance in front, and marking down the spot, we soon stand gazing upon its nest and four eggs with their points inward, meeting in the center, after the fashion of all plover’s eggs. The nest is simply a slight hollow in the ground, lined with bits of grass. The eggs have a dark olive ground, abundantly blotched with brown and black; average size 2.00x1.50. These eggs are much sought after as delicacies for the table; and are offered for sale in the markets at three pence and four pence each. We look around and soon find several more nests and eggs; and in less than twenty minutes we have taken some two dozen eggs, and as we don’t wish to carry them along with us, we hide them beneath a rock from carrion crows until we return.
Jumping over a little brook, a snipe darts away from a tuft of grass. In the center are snugly laid four richly marked eggs of a greenish-olive hue, blotched and spotted with two or three shades of brown. A large series show the eggs to differ much in ground color and markings. This bird is numerous in Yorkshire; I have found it breeding in all parts of the county.
Only two species of duck nest in the moors, near the lagoons, the common mallard and the teal.
The mallard usually lays from seven to twelve pale olive-green tinted eggs in a nest of grass, lined with down; size about 2.25x1.60.
The teal builds a nest of vegetable substances, lined with down and feathers. Six to twelve eggs are laid of a buffy white; size, 1.75x1.25.
The short-eared owl is found nesting here; its nest is always on the ground, a simple structure of sticks, grass and heather, upon which it lays four or five white elliptical eggs, averaging in size 1.55x1.25.
Three other species of owls nest in this district: the barn owl, the tawny owl and the long-eared owl.
The latter generally selects some old crow or magpie’s nest; and lays from four to six eggs, not so round as those of the short-eared species.
Tramping over the moors for a mile or so, a bird rises from the hillside before us and dashes away at a great rate. Marking down the spot, we find a stone surrounded by bird’s feathers and insects’ wings, and pick up a titlark which is still warm. This is the shambles of a merlin hawk who was just going to dine off the titlark when we disturbed him. We set about to look around for its nest, when my brother cried out “Here it is with four splendid eggs.” In a few seconds I was there, gazing on the treasures with delight and admiration. The nest was a mixed mass of twigs, heather and brakens, raised a few inches high; and the four eggs resting in a slight hollow in the center. Their ground color was a dark, crimson brown, speckled all over with dark brown and black. Some varieties resemble eggs of the kestril hawk, but a series of fifty eggs before me do not show such varieties in color as the eggs of the kestril do. As a rule, they are smaller than the kestril’s eggs and not so round, nor so boldly marked. We blow the eggs and pack them away with care, and proceed farther on.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]