Stone Curlew 113 



and a few days are long enougli to con\ert the open, naked ground 

 into a miniature forest of young bracken stems. This is the cover 

 beyond all others chosiMi by the Stone Ciu"lew in which to conceal 

 and rear their young, from the time they leave the egg-shell until 

 they are big enough to fly and fend for themselves. The appearance 

 of the bracken abo\-e the ground coincides in point of time pretty 

 closely with the hafcliiiig of the chicks. 



Stone (\irlews are single-brooded, never laying more tlian two 

 eggs in the season, unless the first nest is destroyed. In that case, 

 they lay again, and thus one occasionally finds eggs in July or even 

 August, but it is very doubtful if the 3oung, from these late eggs, are 

 successfulh' reared. 



In Suffolk, the Stone Curlew leaves us sometime in October, 

 generally in the second or third week. If a nestling were not hatched 

 before the middle or end of August, it would be impossible for this 

 youngster of six or eight weeks to undertake the long migratory 

 journey with the rest of the flock in October. He would perforce 

 be left behind, and would perish miserably with the first severe frost. 



While on the subject of the emigration of these birds, I may say 

 that I have never seen one in Suffolk myself after October 26th, 

 but I have one trustworthy record of a bird seen on January 23rd 

 (1904). One of my nephews, who is a fairly competent field observer, 

 wrote (25-1-1904). " There was a solitary Norfolk Plover on the 

 conmion near to Cliff House yesterday, seemingly very tired after a 

 journe}'. I did not recognise it at first, and sent for Staff " (a 

 keeper and a good naturalist). " We flushed it again, and both of 

 us identified it quite clearly, so of course I didn't shoot it. Surely 

 it's a queer time of the year for the bird to be about ? " 



When the Stone Curlew first comes over, he speedily makes his 

 presence known by his well-known cry. This cr^/ is quite character- 

 istic, and is entirely unlike any other bird's note that I am familiar 

 with. It has been called a " whistle," even a " melodious whistle " ; 

 to me, this is not a very happy description. It is a weird, discordant 

 clamour, with something uncanny and blood-curdling about it, as 

 though an inferno had suddenly been let loose on earth. We call 

 them " shriek owls " on this account, and it is not a bad name. 

 Their wild cries ringing out loud and clear, then suddenly ceasing 

 and intensifying the silence of the still summer night, are something 

 suggestive of murder and sudden death. Many superstitions have 

 grown up round the nocturnal cries of birds, m.ostly of evil omen. 

 For example, the " Gabriel Hounds " (Wild Geese migrating on a dark 

 night) passing over a house foretell, if I remember rightly, death or 

 disaster to the occupants. I wonder that no legend is connected 

 with the cry of the Stone Curlew. I know of none. 



It is by night that the birds are mostly heard ; in April they 

 occasionally call by day. In May and June, during incubation, 

 they are silent by day, and even after sundown are much less voci- 

 ferous than in the earlier or later months. By about the middle of 



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