The New Forest: Its History and Its Scenery

by John R. Wise

CHAPTER XXII.
THE ORNITHOLOGY.

The Heronry at Vinney Ridge.

To describe the Fauna of the Forest is beyond the purpose of this book, and would, beside, require a life-time to properly accomplish. I can only here deal with the ornithology as I have with the botany. I do not know either that the general reader will lose anything by the treatment. A scientific knowledge is not so much needed as, first of all, a sympathy with nature, and a love for all her forms of beauty. The great object in life is not to know, but to feel. But, before we speak of the birds, let us correct some errors which are so common with regard to the animals. It is quite a mistake to talk of wild boars or wild ponies roaming over the Forest. There is not now an animal here without an owner. The wild boars introduced by Charles I., and others brought over some fifty years ago, are seen only in their tame descendants—sandy-coloured, or “badger-pied,” as they are called, which are turned out into the Forest during the pannage months.[282]

So, too, the Forest ponies never run wild, except in the sense of being unbroken. Lath-legged, small-bodied, and heavy-headed, but strong and hardy, living on nothing in the winter but the furze, they are commonly said, without the slightest ground, to be descendants of the Spanish horses which swam ashore from the disabled ships of the Armada.

And now for the ornithology. The thick woods, the lonely moors and holts, attract the birds of prey; the streams and marshes the waders; whilst the estuaries of the Beaulieu, and Lymington, and Christchurch rivers, and the Solent, afford a shelter in winter to the geese and ducks driven from the north.

Again, too, the peculiar mildness of the climate has its effect on the birds as well as the plants. The martin and the swallow come early in March and stay till the end of November; that is to say, remain full three-quarters of the year. I have heard, too, the cuckoo as early as April 11th and as late as July the 12th. The warblers, whose arrival depends so much on the south-east winds, may not come earlier than in other parts of England. They certainly, however, in the southern and more cultivated parts, where food is plentiful, stay here later than in the Midland Counties; and I have heard the whitethroat singing, as on a spring day, in the middle of October.

We will begin with the birds of prey. Gilpin (vol. ii. p. 294) mentions a pair of golden eagles, which, for many years, at times frequented King’s Wood, and a single specimen, killed near Ashley Lodge. These, however, with the exception of one shot some twenty years ago over Christchurch Harbour, are the last instances of a bird, which can now be seldom seen except in the north of Scotland. Yarrell,[283] too, notices that the sea eagle (Aquila albicilla) is sometimes a visitor in the district, but though I have been down under the Hordle and Barton Cliffs, day after day, for often six months together, I have never seen a specimen. It, however, sometimes occurs in the winter, and is mistaken for its rarer ally; and the Eagle Tree at the extreme west end of Vinney Ridge commemorates where one was shot, some fifty years ago, by a Forest-keeper. The osprey, however (Falco haliæëtus), still frequents the coast in the autumn, and circles over Christchurch Harbour fishing for his prey, where, as Yarrell mentions, he is well known as the “grey-mullet hawk,” on account of his fondness for that fish.

The Peregrine Falcon (Falco peregrinus), which breeds on the high Culver Cliffs of the Isle of Wight, and in the Lulworth Rocks, is in the summer a regular visitor, and scours the whole country. No year goes by without some half-dozen or more being killed.

Its congener the hobby (Falco subbuteo), known in the Forest as “the van-winged hawk,” comes about the same time as the honey-buzzard, building in the old, deserted nests of crows and magpies, and even, as in one case, to my knowledge, in that of the honey-buzzard. The bird, however, is becoming scarce. For several years I have known a pair or two build in Buckhill Wood, of which a sketch is given at the end of this chapter, but last year none came. It lays generally about the beginning of June, though I have received its eggs as late as July 12th. Yarrell says that their number is three or four; but, with Mr. Hoy,[284] I have never known the bird lay more than three, and very often only two.