198 ON THE SCARCITY OF BIRDS IN CERTAIN DISTRICTS. 



Kobins, and others^ came close to our house for food, placed daily for them, 

 charming us with their songs and interesting motions. Boys, too, about 

 this neighbourhood are quite as destructive as cats. Every urchin appears 

 trained to the accomplishment of their ruin. Upon a holiday in the spring, 

 the first pursuit is the capture of birds' nests, and you cannot walk in 

 the country, at this season of the year, without meeting the little plun- 

 derers with strings of birds' eggs. At other seasons all sorts of missiles 

 are resorted to, and happy is he who can possess himself with an old 

 pistol or musket, to pop at every bird within reach. 



No doubt these doings have prevailed for a great length of time, but 

 they have vastly increased during my recollection, and it is reasonable to 

 conclude the same system extends to the neighbourhood of other cities and 

 towns. 



We cannot dwell on these reflections without deep regret; yet in the 

 midst of all, it is cheering to think some portions of our Island may yet 

 be free from such wholesale persecutions, and in this feeling I am en- 

 couraged to hope from the result of a ramble, on the 19th. instant, in a 

 retired part of Wiltshire, about eighteen miles from this city, where the 

 River Avon flows with more than its usual winding course through a very 

 rural part of the county. The sun was shining gloriously, and the feathered 

 creation in full activity; the Cuckoo's note sounded from every side; water- 

 fowl started from the rushes in the river; Swallows, in rapid motion, 

 skimmed the water, and in quick evolution displayed their white breasts 

 to the sun's rays; Reed-Sparrows incessantly chirping; Blackcaps, with great 

 variety of the Finch tribe, hopping from bush to bush; Blackbirds and 

 Thrushes in full song; the lovely Kingfisher displayed his brilliant plumage 

 with great effect on the glistening sun; whilst Herons at considerable height 

 were flapping their way towards Bowood, the seat of the Marquis of 

 Lansdowne. 



The day was magnificent, every tree and shrub in full foliage, all seemed 

 full of life and animation: the May-flies, so well known to anglers, were in 

 myriads upon the water, and fishes rising after them in countless numbers. 

 Making my way through a cluster of alder trees, on an embankment by 

 the side of the river, the water from which having forced its way in several 

 places, forming channels, and rendering the ground very soft, progress be- 

 came slow and difiicult. Close to the bank floated a boat, secured by a 

 chain. Whilst debating with myself upon the advantage of this boat, for 

 avoiding one of these channels, which appeared rather too wide to step 

 over with convenience, and holding on by one of the trees close to the 

 edge of the river in a state of indecision, a remarkably fine Kingfisher, 

 the largest I ever saw, came and pitched upon the edge of the boat, not 

 three feet from where I stood — the sun shining directly upon him, gave 



