Habits of the Ringdove, 331 



that state in which the faculty of flying saves them from de- 

 struction. 



No bird in the British dominions seems to resort to so 

 many different trees and shrubs for the purpose of incubation 

 as the ringdove. Not a tree, from the towering pine to the 

 lowly thorn, ever comes amiss to it. There is something, 

 too, peculiarly singular in the locality of some of the nests. 

 While one is seen placed nearly on the topmost branches of 

 the lofty sycamore, another may be found within four feet of 

 the ground, in the humble shelter of the hedge-row bush. 

 Last year, I found a ringdove sitting on one egg, in a magpie's 

 nest of the year gone by ; and I observed another ringdove, 

 rearing two young ones, in a spruce fir tree, below that of a 

 magpie, out of which I had taken seven eggs, and substituted 

 five of a jackdaw in their place. It was interesting to see 

 these two species of birds, one so calm and gentle, the other 

 so pert and roguish, thus close to each other, at so critical a 

 juncture. While I was observing them, I felt convinced that 

 there are certain times in which birds are not so bent on 

 plunder as we would fain suppose they are ; and, moreover, 

 that they can frequent each other's company in perfect peace 

 and quiet. In this instance it appears that instinct showed 

 the ringdove how to preserve her eggs from being plundered 

 by her crafty neighbour, who, according to our own short- 

 sighted view of ornithological economy, would have been apt 

 to make free with them at the earliest call of hunger. The 

 ringdove had settled there with her eyes open to her sup- 

 posed danger ; for the magpie was the first to get possession 

 of the tree. 



I had but a faint idea of the habits of the ringdove until 

 I had offered it an undisturbed asylum in this " valley free." 

 Its movements are remarkably periodical. In mild winters, 

 or more properly speaking, in winters of short continuance, 

 it makes its first appearance on the island where my house 

 stands, early in February. This year it came, for the first 

 time, on the second of the month, and cooed in full note. 

 From this period, it may be seen here, every day till Oc- 

 tober, either in the sycamore trees, or in the ivy on the old 

 ruined tower, or on the lawn, picking up the tender sprouts 

 of grass. Provided you approach with " cautious step and 

 slow," you may get within seven yards of different pairs of 

 these birds ; and when the window-sash is down, they will 

 come within a few paces of the place where you are standing, 

 and allow you to gaze at them for any length of time. After 

 the first week in October, they take their final leave of my 

 island for the winter ; and never, by any chance, pay us even 



