100 FEATHERED RESIDENTS IX THE GROUNDS OF TERRICK HOUSE. 



or even upon parts of its surface where a safe footing is afforded it by the 

 floating outspread leaves of the surpassingly-beautiful water-lily and other 

 aquatic plants, in pursuit of its insect prey; and in the season of love it 

 gives forth this song with redoubled ardour, as in the exuberance of its 

 feelings, and in an ccstacy of delight, it dances about on the wing, not "with 

 odd jerks and aesticulations", like the Whitethroat, nor by springing into the 

 air, and then steadily descending in a curve like the Tree Pipit, but by 

 repeated vaultings, in a manner peculiarly its own, around the neighbourhood 

 its lady-love graces with her presence. 



With us the Pied Wagtail is partially migratory, its numbers gradually 

 becoming less as the winter advances, till in the depth of that season, a 

 solitary bird is only now and then to be seen. Along the banks of the Isis, 

 in Oxfordshire, I have often in November met with parties of thirty or forty, 

 a "gathering," no doubt, from places further north. 



The noise we make in ascending the ladder brings out another bird from 

 beneath the tiled roof, which takes some such stand as the first we disturbed, 

 it is however more restless and noisy, uttering its note of disquietude with an 

 impatient shake of the tail. This is the Redstart, (Phoenicura ruticilla,) whose 

 nest, if we choose to remove some of the tiles, we shall discover containing, 

 it may be, six or more eggs smaller than those of the Hedge Warbler, but 

 of the same beautiful blue colour. A hole in the wall, a hollow tree, and 

 sometimes a hole in the thatch of an outhouse is chosen by this bird for the 

 construction of its nest. I have found it in the hole perforated in an oak 

 to the depth of two or three inches only by the Green Woodpecker. If un- 

 molested it will bring up its brood in the same spot year after year. 



We eater the building; when, with a loud shriek, one-third of alarm, another 

 of indignation, and the remaining one of menace, a bird dashes almost into 

 our very faces in its retreat; this is the Chimney Swallow, (Hirundo rustica,) 

 whose nest we perceive on a moulding which runs round near the ceiling. 

 We take a seat and perchance begin to discuss some point in the history of 

 the bird, upon a specimen of whose handiwork our eyes are fixed. We shall 

 however soon find it convenient to "move the adjournment of the debate," for 

 assuredly we shall not be able to carry it on without constant interruption 

 here, for every half minute or so, the bird will be popping in upon us, re- 

 doubling its cry of alarm, indignation, and menace. 



Whatever the cause may be, it is an unquestionable fact that this bird 

 occurs much more sparingly in this part of the country than it did some 

 twenty years ago. May not this be traced in some measure- to the treacherous 

 nature of our late springs? I know that in the unusually severe weather we 

 had in April, 1849, and again in 1851, after the arrival of these birds, they 

 were found by hundreds, either starved to death by hunger, or killed by the 

 severity of the frost, along the banks of the Isis. It was even said, and I 

 have no reason to doubt the truth of the statement, that bushels of their 

 dead bodies might have been collected within a comparatively short distance. 



