So much, then, for the seasonal change of relationship; let us now turn to particular cases and attempt to trace the condition which accompanies such change.

Many migrants in the spring seem to follow the course of the Severn during their journey northwards through Worcestershire; and where the river bends to the north-west at Lincombe Lock, there they leave it, or, rather, continue in a north-easterly direction which takes them across the southern end of Hartlebury Common. As I have already mentioned, this Common is overgrown with gorse, heather, and ling, and scattered here and there are a number of dwarf oak-trees and small elder-bushes. The situation is therefore an ideal one for the smaller migrants to rest for a brief time, and, from the point of view of the observer, very suitable because it is open and the movements of the birds can be traced for some distance. Turtle Doves pass over at a great height, or skim across a few feet above the gorse; Redstarts settle for a few minutes and then disappear; Tree-Pipits, Whinchats, and Willow-Warblers pass from tree to tree or flit from bush to bush—and all in a north-easterly direction. They do not sing, they are restless, and, judging by their behaviour, they are anxious to conceal their presence, not to make it known. Yet we know that when they reach their destination, as presently they will, all this will change; that each of them will employ every means at its disposal to make itself conspicuous; and that each, as far as it is able, will resist intrusion on the part of other species.

Now the southern end of the Common is always inhabited by individuals belonging to one of these species, or to others of close affinity; so that wherever these travellers settle whilst passing across it, the chances are that they will find the ground occupied—and their behaviour under such circumstances is no less interesting than the behaviour of the bird upon whose ground they are trespassing. We will take the case of the Whinchat. It arrives from the south-west, and, flying from bush to bush, works its way in a north-easterly direction. In doing so it intrudes upon the territory of a Stonechat; and the Stonechat, becoming excited, flies towards it, and it retires for a short distance in the direction from whence it came. Here again it is followed and attacked and again moves on, and then, flying in a circle as if to avoid the territory which blocked the path, resumes its former line of flight, though still followed by the Stonechat, which after continuing the pursuit for perhaps a quarter of a mile, suddenly turns in the air and returns to its headquarters.

It is difficult to put oneself in the place of the Stonechat or of the Whinchat. But even after making due allowance for the danger inseparable from any attempt to do so, there remains the unquestionable fact that whereas the impulse to attack was strong in the one, the impulse to defend itself was wholly lacking in the other. Yet a Whinchat, when it has established itself, is most pugnacious; it not only attacks every bird of a similar size that approaches its position, but its behaviour under such circumstances bears the impress of unusual determination; and if we were to take a male and place it in the position of the Stonechat, we should find that its nature would change, that the presence of the Stonechat would evoke a hostile response, and, conversely, that the instinct of the Stonechat would not be susceptible to stimulation. Hence it is clear that the nature of a bird when on migration is not quite the same as it is when its destination is reached; that the positions occupied from time to time during the journey carry no meaning, or, rather, are not brought into relation with its life in quite the same way as is the position which it finally occupies; and further, it is clear that the interest it displays in other species undergoes a somewhat remarkable transformation when at length its destination is reached.

This altered nature of the migrant is a fact of some importance in relation to our present subject, but it does not stand alone—the same characteristic is observable in other phases of bird life. Some of the residents, the Buntings and the Finches for example, occupy their breeding ground very early in the year, and it often happens that the situations which they select are not capable of supplying them with food so early in the season, though at a later date food will be there in abundance; so that they are compelled to resort to the surrounding neighbourhood, and since, even there, the available supply is sometimes scarce or, if plentiful, limited to certain areas, they are constrained from time to time to join together again in flocks. Thus, for part of the year, they may be said to lead a double existence; for just as the Whinchat, that is sociable on migration, betrays a changed nature when it reaches its destination, so too does the nature of these residents change from hour to hour according to whether they are seeking food or occupying the breeding ground.

In the newly-sown fields of grain the birds frequently find a supply of food. Here Yellow Buntings, Greenfinches, and Chaffinches collect from the surrounding neighbourhood. The majority are somewhere in possession of territories, and not a few are paired. Between the territories and the feeding ground a highway is formed by individuals passing to and fro. Sometimes both members of the pair leave together in order to seek food, at other times they separate and the male may be in his territory whilst the female is with the flock. Apart from occasional manifestations of sexual emotion on the part of a male, there is nothing to disturb the harmony of the flock nor anything in the behaviour of the birds which would lead one to suspect that, when they return, their nature will change and that they will be no longer sociable; and, which is still more remarkable, no matter how great the provocation which an individual, when in company with the flock, may be called upon to endure, its customary hostile response will fail to be elicited. An incident which happened in the spring of 1917 will serve to make this clear. A flock of some thirty Yellow Buntings, Greenfinches, and Chaffinches were feeding in one corner of a field which had recently been sown with barley. As they sought their food they wandered outwards into the middle of the field, and in so doing, passed across the territory of a Skylark. Whereupon the Skylark became excited, uttered its call-note rapidly, and rising a few feet from the ground, attacked those members of the flock that were nearest, which happened to be the Yellow Buntings; and so determined were its onslaughts that the Yellow Buntings were forced to retire. The Skylark showed no discrimination as to sex, but attacked both males and females, and within a few minutes succeeded in driving away at least two pairs. One would have expected that the Yellow Buntings would have made some show of resistance; one would have thought that the fact of being violently attacked would have supplied a stimulus sufficiently strong to evoke a corresponding hostile response: yet there was no mistaking the lack of interest that they displayed in the contest—they made no effort to retaliate but seemed to accept the situation as unalterable and left.

So far we have examined only those cases in which the pugnacious instinct was stimulated in one of the adversaries, and in which consequently the fighting seldom reached any high degree of severity. We must now consider some others in which each of the opponents acts as a stimulus to the pugnacious instinct of the other. It is here, of course, that we find the most violently contested battles, and it is here, too, that the purpose of the fighting seems clear. The persecution which the Green Woodpecker suffers from the Starling is well known. The purpose of the Starling's behaviour is clear, namely the possession of the hole occupied by the Woodpecker. Bird for bird, the Woodpecker is more than the equal of the Starling, but persistent endeavour ultimately wins the day. The Starlings perch close beside the hole, and, whenever the Woodpecker shows itself, attack with determination; and not only do they do so but they are assisted, so there is reason to believe, by other individuals or pairs in the attainment of their end, so that no matter how stoutly the Woodpecker defends itself, in time it is almost certain to be deprived of its ownership.

In like manner different kinds of Woodpeckers contend with one another for the possession of a hole, and here the opponents are more equally matched. I have seen a pair of Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers endeavouring to drive away a Great Spotted Woodpecker. The excitement of all three birds was exceptional. Each of the Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers kept swooping in turn at their rival, sometimes in the air and sometimes when it was settled on the topmost branches of a dead tree, and the sounds produced reminded one of the piping of a flock of Oyster-Catchers in flight.

A battle between a pair of Green Woodpeckers and a Great Spotted Woodpecker is worth mentioning. It occurred on the 24th of April. Passing through the middle of a wood, I noticed a Great Spotted Woodpecker fly out of a hole in an oak-tree. Shortly afterwards, a pair of Green Woodpeckers settled near the hole and then flew to some oak-trees close at hand, where they were joined by their rival and signs of hostility were soon apparent. Presently the Great Spotted Woodpecker returned to the hole and entered. Both of the Green Woodpeckers then flew into the tree; and one of them, settling upon the trunk, climbed up to the level of the hole and, when it became aware of the Great Spotted Woodpecker within, extended its wings fully and proceeded to peck viciously at its opponent. Whereupon there was a scuffle at the mouth of the hole and the Great Spotted Woodpecker hurriedly left. After this, all was quiet and the Green Woodpecker eventually descended and entered the hole. The Great Spotted Woodpecker, however, returned again, but, after fluttering around the hole, disappeared, leaving the Green Woodpeckers in possession.