It is curious to observe how the Blackbirds and Thrushes will not only provide worm-food for their nestlings, but how they will prepare these worms and make them fit for swallowing down the young throats. They will often, when they have tugged a worm out of the grass, proceed to peck it into small and suitable lengths, and will then carry these, arranged in their mouths in suitable bundles, to the nest.
Blackbirds appear not to gain knowledge by experience, at least in some particulars. I witness almost every year a repetition of what I may term “the tragedy of the Blackbirds.” Evidently the same old birds will yearly build a nest in almost the same portion of the ivy on one of the walls, and not more than six or seven feet from the ground. Well, this is all right so long as the old birds are merely sitting and make no noise, so as to attract feline attention. But as soon as the young birds are hatched, and begin to make vocal demonstrations, of course they fall victims to their natural enemies and “bird-fanciers,” and the nests and their occupants are ruthlessly dragged out from their positions and destroyed. This occurs year after year. I believe that then the birds will sometimes build again elsewhere. But they certainly return to almost the same locality in the following spring, and their offspring again become victims of the inappropriateness of their selected homes.
Plenty of other birds also come to the garden at various times and seasons, and add to its life and interest—Robins, Bluetits, Nuthatches, Redwings, Missel-thrushes, and others—but of their behaviour in the winter season, and when habitually fed, I have already discoursed to this Society, so will not further trouble you now with their noticeable peculiarities.
Reptiles.—Perhaps it would scarcely be expected that the Reptile race would provide much of interest for a city garden. Yet it may be truly said that this class of creatures has done almost more than any other to provide my garden with material for this.
As this Society will know from my previous communications to its “Transactions,” I have long kept two Tortoises, and year by year noted their habits and most remarkable peculiarities. These have been already fully described in the Society’s records, and I can only now add to what I before stated, that they still continue to increase in size and weight, and at about the same rate of progression as twelve or thirteen years ago. They still gain 1½ to 2 ounces in weight in each summer, and lose about 1 or 1¼ ounce in weight during each winter hybernation. The total result is, that whilst they weighed respectively 2 lbs. 10 ozs. and 2 lbs. 5 ozs. in September, 1886, they weighed in October last 3 lbs. 13 ozs. and 3 lbs. 8 ozs., having thus each gained in weight during this period 1 lb. 3 ozs., or on an average about one ounce and a quarter in each year.
Other reptilians which I have tried to domesticate (for observation) in my garden are Toads and Frogs. But I am bound to say that I have not been successful in preserving them in any numbers for more than a brief period. Their appearance and disappearance has at times been very mysterious and inexplicable, but on the whole those which I have imported have, as a rule, soon either died or been otherwise disposed of. Is it not probable, I would suggest, that they, or at least the smaller ones, have fallen a prey to Jackdaws, Rooks, or even Starlings?
Of the Frogs which I brought home, only one survived the second year. But this one appeared to thrive in a remarkable degree for several years. It would apparently lie dormant for many months, and would then reappear, lively, fat, and much grown, for a few weeks in the late summer or early autumn; after which he would be no more seen until the following year.
Toads are more interesting than Frogs; and, indeed, in a city garden, by no means produce that feeling of loathing which is popularly supposed to be inherent in them. On the contrary, they quickly become tame, and almost assume the status of garden pets. And as a matter of fact, I entirely disagree with Shakespeare, who calls them “ugly and venomous.”
At first the Toads which I imported would come out regularly on suitable evenings, and sit or hop about on the damp grass or flower-borders. And they exhibited a most special tendency (as has been observed by others) to come down to the house as if desiring an entrance. Indeed, when the door was open they would not unfrequently walk in. And I have more than once found one of them in my study or other room, sitting up in a corner, looking happy and comfortable, and quietly staring at me with its bright eyes, as if I were the real intruder.
The direction of my rooms from the garden is from south to north. I do not know if this was possibly expressive of any migratory instinct.