British Birds in Their Haunts

by C. A. Johns

THE ROCK PIPIT
ANTHUS OBSCÚRUS

Hind claw about equal in length to the toe, much curved; upper plumage greenish brown, the centre of each feather darker brown; a whitish streak over the eye; under parts dull white, spotted and streaked with dark brown. Length six inches and three-quarters. Eggs dull white, mottled with dingy brown.

Except that it is somewhat larger, the Rock Pipit is very similar in form and colour to the last species. It is, however, far more local, being confined exclusively to the sea-shore, but there of very common occurrence. Every one familiar with the sea-coast, must have observed it moving through the air with a jerking flight, occasionally alighting on a rock or on the beach near the line of high-water mark, searching busily for marine insects. In spring, it frequently takes little flights inland, never to a great distance, repeating its simple song all the while, and chasing as if in sport some one or other of its companions. In winter, it seems to act as a guide to the smaller land birds, who, finding their supply of food diminished or altogether cut off by the frost, are attracted by its movements, and join it in searching for insects among the unfrozen

'ridge of all things vile,'

left on the shore by the receding tide. Montagu says, that it has never been observed to be gregarious; his editor, however, Rennie, states that he has noticed it to be, if not quite gregarious, at least very nearly so, on the wild rocky shores of Normandy; and, from my own acquaintance with its habits in Devon and Cornwall, I am inclined to agree with the latter. If not gregarious, it is at least sociable, and that too at seasons when the flocks could hardly have been family gatherings only. The same remark holds good of the Meadow Pipit. A migration southwards takes place in October along our east coast.

FAMILY ALAUDIDÆ

THE SKYLARK
ALAUDA ARVENSIS

Upper parts reddish brown, the centre of each feather dark brown; a faint whitish streak above the eyes; throat white; neck and breast whitish, tinged with yellow and red, and streaked with dark brown; tail moderate. Length seven inches and a quarter. Eggs greyish, thickly speckled with dark grey and brown.

The Skylark, a bird whose flight and song are better known perhaps than those of any other bird, needs but a simple biography. The favourite bird of the poets, its story might be told in extracts compiled from various authors whose muse has led them to sing of Nature. Much, however, that has been written is but an amplification of the golden line, 'Hark, the Lark at Heaven's gate sings!' and not a little is an exaggerated statement of the height to which it ascends, and the time which it remains suspended in mid-air. But the Skylark needs no panegyrists, so, with all due deference to those who have struck the lyre in its honour, I will endeavour to describe its habits and haunts in humble prose.

The Skylark is a generally-diffused bird, adapted by the conformation of its claws for perching on the ground, and by its length and power of wing for soaring high in the air. Accordingly, its food consists of small insects and seeds, which it collects among the herbage of stubble-fields, meadows and downs, or in newly-ploughed fields. To this fare, it adds in winter and spring the tender stalk of sprouting corn. Hence it is regarded with deadly hostility by farmers, and hence, too, the quiet of the country is much disturbed at these seasons, by boys employed to frighten it away by screaming and plying a peculiar kind of rattle.[15] During autumn and winter, Larks congregate in large flocks, and occupy their time principally in searching for food on the ground. If disturbed, they rise in a scattered manner, wheel about in the air until the flock is formed again, chirping from time to time, and then withdraw, not in a compact body, but at unequal distances from the earth and from each other, to a new feeding-ground, over which they hover with circling flight for some time before alighting. On trees they never perch; though one or two may occasionally be seen settled on a quickset hedge or a railing. In North Britain, at the approach of severe weather, they flock together and migrate southwards. Great numbers also visit England from the Continent, arriving in November, when they used to be caught in nets and traps for the table. Early in spring the flocks break up, when the birds pair, and for three or four months, every day and all day long, when the weather is fine (for the Lark dislikes rain and high winds), its song may be heard throughout the breadth of the land. Rising as it were by a sudden impulse from its nest or lowly retreat, it bursts forth, while as yet but a few feet from the ground, into exuberant song, and with its head turned towards the breeze, now ascending perpendicularly, and now veering to the right or left, but not describing circles, it pours forth an unbroken chain of melody, until it has reached an elevation computed to be, at the most, about a thousand feet. To an observer on earth, it has dwindled to the size of a mere speck; but, as far as my experience goes, it never rises so high as to defy the search of a keen eye. Having reached its highest elevation, its ambition is satisfied without making any permanent stay, and it begins to descend, not with a uniform downward motion, but by a series of droppings with intervals of simple hovering, during which it seems to be resting on its wings. Finally, as it draws near the earth, it ceases its song and descends more rapidly, but before it touches the ground it recovers itself, sweeps away with almost horizontal flight for a short distance and disappears in the herbage. The time consumed in this evolution is at the most from fifteen to twenty minutes, more frequently less; nor have I ever observed it partially descend and soar upwards again. A writer in the Magazine of Natural History maintains that 'those acquainted with the song of the Skylark, can tell, without looking at them, whether the birds be ascending or stationary in the air, or on their descent; so different is the style of the song in each case'. Mr. Yarrell is of the same opinion, and I have little doubt that they are correct, though I am not certain that I have myself attained the skill of discriminating. In July, the Lark ceases its soarings and song together, but in fine weather, in October, it receives a new inspiration and is musical again. From time to time, during winter, if the season be mild, it resumes its aërial habits, but it neither ascends so high nor sings so long, two or three minutes becoming now the limits of its performance. Like most other birds, it sings least about noon and the first two hours of the afternoon; but it begins before sunrise, having been heard at midsummer as early as two o'clock in the morning, and it sometimes continues its song till late on into the night, having been heard at ten o'clock when it was quite dark. Occasionally, too, it sings on the ground; and, in a cage, as all the world knows, it pours out its melody with as much spirit, as if its six inches of turf could be measured by acres, and the roof of its little cage were the vault of heaven. The following stanza in French is equally successful in imitating the song of the Skylark and describing its evolutions: