Among the Birds in Northern Shires

than that of any other special localities with the same difference of latitude between them. Nevertheless there are southern s

all find not a little difference in the habits of some of these woodland birds, as compared with those of southern

ion; whilst grand old Sherwood Forest on one side of Sheffield, and equally attractive Wharncliffe Woods on the other, were the scene of many an exploration after knowledge relating to the bird-life of such localities. Then in other directions we had the noble woodlands at Eccleshall, Beauchief, and Totley, and along the Rivelin Valley-all of them nearer home, and all of them well favoured with bird-life in great variety. These extensive woods, however, are not favourite haunts of the smaller Passeres; rather are they the home of Hawks, Magpies, Crows, Jays, Doves, Woodpeckers, Pheasants, and so on; the coppices, plantations, smaller woods, and well-timbered bottoms, together with extensive shrubberies an

in Yorkshire and Derbyshire, is so rare that few observers will have the good fortune to meet with it. Once more we would urge our plea on behalf of these three species, all of them practically harmless and inoffensive birds, yet threatened with absolute extermination if the landed proprietors will not come to their assistance. An appeal to powerful land-owners-the owners of vast areas of woodlands-is possibly more effective than protective legislation, for in their hands lies all the machinery for the effectual protection of such spe

mmon B

is wood stands just on the border-line of Derbyshire and Yorkshire; in fact, the trout stream that flows through it we believe actually divides the two counties. It used to contain many grand oaks, and was always a favourite cover for Pheasants because of the many clumps of holly-trees within it. In one of these oaks we spied a huge nest of sticks, and our poacher companion, when this was pointed out to him, volunteered the information that it was a "Big Hawk's" nest. Tired and weary as we were, but incited by the possibility of finding some hitherto unknown eggs, we set to work to climb the mast-like trunk for some sixty feet. We can recall even now our frequent pauses for breath as we slowly approached the spot; how the nest seemed to get larger and larger a

off-chance of discovering Kestrels' or Long-eared Owls' eggs, and considered ourselves well rewarded if we found one or two at most occupied by these second tenants. On the other hand, many have been the times when we have seen keepers shoot into these old nests, as well as fire and kill the brooding Hawk as she sat upon her eggs or sheltered her downy young, in spite of all remonstrance upon our part. The Sparrow-hawk breeds a little earlier. We have had a long and varied experience with the domestic economy of this plucky little bird, and we have invariably found that it not only builds its own nest, but makes a new one every season. Indeed, in not a few cases we have noticed that when its eggs have been taken from one nest it has built another in the vicinity in which to lay a new clutch. The larch woods in the Rivelin Valley-around Hollow Meadows-are,

ot a few were placed in the alder-trees that fringed the streams between the reservoirs. The Jay, on the other hand, was a scarce bird here, for the woods had little or no undergrowth, in which that bird specially delights. In most other woods of our acquaintance the Magpie was a sorely-persecuted species, and every bird and every nest were destroyed that the keepers could discover. Several times during the course of the spring many keepers hold a grand "vermin battue". A keeper will gather round him half a dozen village loafers, and then the precious party will proceed to hunt the covers, killing every Magpie, Jay, or Hawk that comes in their way, and pulling out every nest they can discover. We know the ways of these gentry only too well, for years ago we often accompanied such a party, helpless to save, yet glad to increase our knowledge of woodland bird-life. Not a few nests have we seen on

ns, and other birds. For many years this half-wood half-shrubbery was our constant resort. The wary Rooks got to know us most intimately, and never left the tree-tops or made any unusual noise or disturbance as we wandered under the nests. But let a stranger venture near and all was commotion and uproar at once. The sable fellows would not allow me a companion; and whenever I walked beneath the nest-trees accompanied by a friend the birds would be sure to raise a prolonged chorus of protesting cries. We never knew a spot where more birds came at nightfall during winter to roost amongst the evergreens. For years we used to conceal ourselves in some favourite spot and watch the interesting ways and doings of these mixed avine hosts as they settled themselves to rest. In spring and summer it was equally favoured as a nesting-place. Fortunately all bird-life here was

Wood

was disposed to impart concerning the latter birds (about which he had several theories of his own) as we used to sit in his wood-surrounded cottage and quaff his home-brewed ale, which he was never tired of assuring us would never produce any evil or intoxicating effects. Then after our chat and refreshment he would be prevailed upon to wander out into the woodlands, after first carefully taking down from its pegs the scrupulously clean pin-fire breech-loader, and whistling to his favourite dog, and conduct us by paths only known to himself to many a secluded spot where shy birds were nesting. Here it might be a Pheasant's nest he would allow us cautiously to approach, and peer down at the brown-mottled back of the hen bird as she quietly brooded over her numerous eggs; there a Wild Duck's nest out amongst the bracken would be pointed out; whilst on rare occasions he would wander farther abroad into the most secluded woodlands, and take us to inspect the home of the Woodcock placed snugly under the bracken and brambles. Unfortunately, like all his class, he was dead set against "vermin" of every kind, furred and feathered, even including the squirrels that leapt about in the branches overhead. Against these he had a particular aversion, for he said they were "pestering varmints" that sucked every egg they could find. In the more open parts of the forest, where the birch-trees are abundant, we often used to find a nest of the Missel-thrush; not that there was anything specially remarkable in this, but we never saw a nest of this Thrush in Sherwood Forest without thinking of the tradition that so inseparably connects the mistletoe with it. There is no other district in our islands known to us where this parasitic plant is so plentiful; it grows in huge bushes on the poplar trees, a conspicuous object for miles across the country in the Dukeries, and the white-thorns in some spots are thickly studded with it, best seen, of course, during winter. And yet we have never noticed Missel-thrushes in any exceptional numbers in this district, nor have we ever seen them feeding upon the berries. Talking of the nest of this bird brings to mind a fact we have remarked in at least two widely different localities, and that is the number of nests that are sometimes built quite close together. Along the streams in the Rivelin Valley they used to be found in the alder-trees, perhaps half a dozen within a hundred yards or so; whilst in the swampy corner of a wood at Norton we have remarked several nests in adjoining trees. The prettiest nests of this Thrush we have ever seen were from the Rivelin Valley, and composed externally almost completely of sphagnum moss, amongst which a few slender birch twigs were interwoven. We never found more than four eggs in the nest of the Missel-thrush, and always consider that this is the normal number, never less and never more. Indeed, the bird is as regular in this respect as the Snipes, and more so, perhaps, than any other Pas

lack

eserved and its numbers increased by artificial means; whilst it has been the cause of more ill-feeling, crime, and absolute human bloodshed than any other bird in the British Islands. The price we pay to maintain this alien amongst our avifauna is a high one; its presence is purchased at the cost of countless numbers of indigenous birds of greater and more effective beauty; its protection is made an excuse for the incessant butchery of some of our most interesting species. The introduction of exotic species into any country is sure, sooner or later, to affect some portion of the native fauna in a disastrous way; and yet there are writers-deeming themselves naturalists-who urge the introduction of variou

Yorkshire. It is somewhat remarkable that the forests of Scotland are devoid of Woodpeckers; whilst Ireland is equally unfortunate, none of the three species being known to breed there. This seems all the more extraordinary when we know that all three species breed up to much higher latitudes on the Continent, the two Spotted species going up to or beyond the Arctic circle, the Green species to a higher degree than the Shetlands. We have met with the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker in very small copses, and even in gardens and parks. During winter both species may be met with amongst timber, which they never frequent during the breeding season; in fact, they are given to wandering, and may be detected during the cold months in almost every description of well-timbered country. The habits of these birds are very similar, and they all breed in holes, and lay shining white eggs. Rarer and mo

r Spotted

edstart was very common. The Wheatear bred in the quarries there, but the Redstart loved the range of rocks that ran bulwark-like along the valley above the copse. We used to find its nest in the crevices of these rocks, as well as in holes among the birch-trees. We remember one nest in a decayed birch that contained eight eggs ranged neatly round in rows; another beneath the rock, at the top of Blackbrook, that bears an inscription to the effect that upon it Elliott the "corn-law rhymer" used to sit and write his poetry. Both Redstart and Wheatear are only birds of summer in our islands, the latter arriving perhaps a week before the former, in April. The three species of Willow Wren must also be included in this brief résumé of bird-life in the northern woods. Commonest of this charming trio we must class the Willow Wren. Our northern woods from April onwards are a specially chosen haunt of this delicate-looking little bird. It abounds in most, from the borders of the moors right up to the suburbs of the grimy northern manufacturing towns, and its sweet little refrain is one of the most familiar songs of the spring. Next, perhaps, in order of abundance we should place the Wood Wren, the largest, and at the same time the showiest of the three species. It is interesting to know that for more than two hundred years we have records of the Wood Wren in what are now the western suburbs of