British Birds in Their Haunts

by C. A. Johns

The Wood Dove, called also Wood Pigeon and Ring Dove, is the largest British species, exceeding in dimensions most varieties of the domestic Pigeon. The summer wanderer through a wood in almost any part of the country can scarcely fail to have been disturbed in his meditations by the sudden flapping of wings of some large bird, which, without uttering any note, dashes through the foliage of a neighbouring tree, and makes off with hurried flight for some distant part of the wood. Seen through the openings of the trees, its predominant tint is blue-grey, but a large patch of white is distinctly perceptible on each wing. It might be mistaken for a hawk, so rapidly does it cleave its way through the air; but birds of prey are too wary to betray their movements by the sound of their wings; they, too, rather launch into the air, than start with a violent clapping of their pinions. A Jay might make a similar noise; but when alarmed it always utters its harsh scream, and, if it comes in sight, may at once be distinguished by the striking contrast of its white and black feathers. The bird just disturbed can scarcely, then, be anything but a Wood Dove, perhaps frightened from its nest, perhaps attending on its mate, or it may have been simply digesting its last meal, or waiting until sent forth by the cravings of hunger in quest of a new one; for the bird, though exemplary as a spouse and parent, has a large crop which is never allowed to remain long empty. The food and habits of Wood Pigeons vary with the season. In spring and summer they are most frequently seen alone or in pairs. They then feed principally on the tender leaves of growing plants, and often commit great ravage in fields of beans and peas. Spring-sown corn is attacked by them both in the grain and the blade, and as soon as young turnips have put forth their second pair of leaves, they, too, come in for their share of devastation. As the season advances, they visit the corn-fields, especially those in the vicinity of their native woods, preferring, above all, those parts where the corn has been laid, and where a neighbouring grove or thicket will afford them a ready retreat if disturbed. They are very partial also to oily seeds of all kinds, and it is said that since colza has been extensively grown in the south of France, Wood Pigeons have become a scourge of agriculture, and that consequently war is waged on them unsparingly. It has been remarked also, that they have become much more abundant in Scotland in consequence of 'the great increase in the cultivation of turnips and clover, which afford them a constant supply of food during winter, and the great increase of fir woods, which are their delight both for roosting and rearing their young'. At the approach of autumn they assemble in small flocks, and resort to oak and beech woods, especially the last, where acorns and beech-mast, swallowed whole, afford them an abundant and generous diet. They are now in great demand for the table, but, being very cautious and shy, are difficult of approach. A good many, however, are shot by men and boys, who discover beforehand in what particular trees they roost, and, lying in ambush to await their arrival, fire at them as they drop in in small parties. In winter, the small flocks unite and form large ones. So large, indeed, are these sometimes in severe seasons, that it is fair to suppose that their numbers are considerably augmented by subsidies from colder climates, driven southwards perhaps by scarcity of food. In districts abounding in oak and beech woods, they find abundance of food during the greater part of the winter; but when this supply is exhausted, or the ground is covered with snow, they repair once more to the turnip-fields, and feed on the green leaves. Hunger, however, does not rob them of their shyness, nor make them confiding; for let a human figure appear in ever so large a field where a flock is feeding, the alarm is at once caught and communicated to the whole party, who lose no time in displaying the white bar on the wing, and are soon beyond the reach of fowler and gun.

Among the first woodland sounds of spring and the last of autumn is the note of the Ring Dove, often continued for a long time together, always monotonous, but never wearisome. It is generally considered to be tinged with melancholy, and on this account the bird itself is supposed to have been named the Queest or Cushat

Deep toned

The Cushat plains; nor is her changeless plaint

Unmusical, when with the general quire

Of woodland harmony it softly blends.

Grahame.

Wordsworth celebrates it under a name generally given to the next species:

I heard a Stock Dove sing or say

His homely tale, this very day;