330 Habits of the Ringdove, 



Wherefore, I conclude that our winter flocks receive mi- 

 gratory individuals from distant regions. 



The ringdove, by not feeding on insects, renders no service 

 to man while visiting his fields. On the contrary, it is known 

 to injure him considerably in his crop of rising clover. As 

 soon as this plant begins, under the influence of the vernal 

 sun, to expand its leaves, the ringdove attacks the heart-shoot 

 with fatal severity ; and much address is required on the part 

 of the farmer to scare the birds from their favourite food. 

 Leaving, however, the sons of Ceres to fight their own battles, 

 I will merely add, that this handsome bird is protected here. 

 I love to listen to its soothing murmurs, and take intense 

 pleasure in observing its habits during the breeding season, 

 when it becomes fully as tame as the domestic pigeon. The 

 housekeeper often hints to me that a couple of them would 

 look extremely well on the table ; and the farmer calls them 

 devouring vermin. I receive the opinions of these respectable 

 personages with perfect indifference ; and I sometimes soothe 

 them by observing that where the ringdove has one friend, it 

 has a thousand enemies, ready to prepare it for the spit, or to 

 prevent for ever its return to the clover field. 



The ringdove lays tv*^o snow-white eggs on a nest which 

 may be termed a platform of sticks, so sparingly put together, 

 that the eggs are easily seen through it by an eye habituated 

 to look for them. On inspecting this apparent commence- 

 ment or remnant of a nest, one is led to surmise, at the first 

 glance, that the young are necessarily exposed to many a 

 cold and bitter blast during the spring of this ever-changing 

 climate. " But God tempers the wind," said Maria, *' to the 

 shorn lamb ; " and, in the case before us, instinct teaches the 

 parent bird to sit upon its offspring for a longer period after 

 they are hatched than, perhaps, any other of the feathered 

 tribe. In the meantime, the droppings of the young, which 

 the old birds of some species carefully convey away, are 

 allowed to remain in the nest of the ringdove. They soon 

 form a kind of plaster strong and scentless. This adds con- 

 sistency to the nest, producing, at the same time, a defence 

 against the cold. The ornithologist, while going his autumnal 

 beats, in quest of knowledge, on seeing this, will know imme- 

 diately that the nest has contained young: should this be 

 wanting, he may conclude that the nest has been abandoned 

 at an early period. As he will find but very few nests with 

 this species of plaster in them, he may conclude, to a cer- 

 tainty, that the ringdove has a host of enemies in this country, 

 and that it is seldom fortunate enough to rear its young to 



