Nov. 1, 1869.] 



HARDIVICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



2 



oo 



THE JAY. 



(Garrulus glandarius.) 



"\T7HEN strolling through the woods in Novem- 

 * * ber, with the remembrance of what they 

 were in May, we cannot fail to be struck at the 

 change which has taken place. The warm tiuts of 

 autumn have disappeared ; the leaves are gone ; 

 the forest trunks are moist and moss-grown ; slimy 

 fungi overspread their roots, and various species of 

 Helix and Clausilia are found upon the bark. On 

 every twig a drop of moisture glistens, and as it falls 

 upon the brown leaves below, all Nature seems to 

 weep that summer is gone. And this change is not 

 only apparent in the trees, but in the very birds which 



bough. We can now watch every movement of the 

 nimble Nuthatch, and observe the stealthy actions 

 of the Creeper, and as we pick the last over-ripe 

 blackberry, or taste the fallen beech-mast, in our 

 search for shells or fungi, we fancy that November is 

 not such a dull month after all as some would 

 represent it. On the contrary, a prying naturalist 

 can find much to interest him at this season of the 

 year. 



A noisy chattering disturbs our reflections, and 

 we look up just in time to catch sight of one of the 

 shiest of our wood-birds, the Jay. So long as the 

 green leaves screened our approach, we knew him 

 only "as the blind man knows the Cuckoo — by the 

 bad voice " ; * but now that this screen is gone, we 



Fig. 225. The Jay (Garrulus glandarius). 



cross our path. We now see quite a different class 

 to that which thronged the woods in spring. The 

 Willow-wren, Wood-wren, Chiff-chaff, Black-cap, 

 Nightingale, and noisy Whitethroat, which flitted so 

 conspicuously before us then, have all since disap- 

 peared ; and while Tits of various species seem more 

 numerous than ever, we notice new arrivals, and 

 listen to the whistle and chatter of the Redwing 

 and Fieldfare, which have come to pass the winter 

 with us. 



But since the leaves have fallen, a curtain has 

 dropped which long concealed from view our shier 

 woodbirds. The Pigeon, of whose presence we 

 were usually aware from hearing his loud "coo," or 

 flapping wing, is now seen perched upon the leafless 



can see the author of the noise in all the glory of 

 his bright plumage. 



Who has not stopped at the end of a green 

 " ride " to admire the dead Jay, strung up, like a 

 thief, amidst Hawks, Cats, and Stoats ? His rosy 

 brown back, white tail-coverts, and black and white 

 wings, with their bright blue coverts, render him 

 one of the handsomest of our woodland birds. 



Under the name of Corvus glandarius, the Jay has 

 been ranked amongst the Crows ; but although to a 

 certain extent there is a family resemblance, those 

 who have had the opportunity of observing the pre- 

 sent species in a wild state will agree that in haunts, 



* Merchant of Venice, Act v., Scene 1. 



