Northern Observations of Inland Birds 117 



to dive. I remember watching a whole brood of them 

 thus employed, and while they were at it two were gobbled 

 up by the pike basking in the shallow water among the 

 rushes — by far the most deadly peril with which the 

 chicks had to contend, yet against which they seemed 

 to possess no guarding instincts. 



In another way moorhen chicks are strangely helpless 

 little creatures. I remember catching one early in my 

 boyhood, and having examined the pretty little creature 

 I launched it out into deep water, intent on giving it a 

 good start towards its mother. But unhappily these 

 good intentions resulted in capsizing the chick, and I 

 had the mortification of seeing it kick its helpless little 

 life away, its legs in the air, just out of reach over the 

 deep water. It is rather surprising that young birds 

 that are so much at home below the surface should be 

 unable to right themselves should they fall into the 

 unhappy position of being back downwards. 



The moorhen is comparatively feeble when on the 

 wing. I have seen one collide with the branches and fall 

 heavily to earth when startled in a woodland retreat. 

 Yet partial migrations sometimes take place during severe 

 winters, the birds covering great distances. During the 

 abnormal winter of 1887 thousands essayed to cross the 

 channel, and vast numbers of them fell exhausted on 

 the shores of France, to be picked up by the peasants. 



Moorhens seem to possess no unanimity of decision. 

 The young remain with the parents even after all are 

 fully fledged, the adult chicks helping to guard and feed 

 the succeeding brood, yet if an adult family be disturbed 

 they never rise en masse ^ as does a family of partridges, 

 but instead they get up one at a time and straggle off in 

 different directions, each bird seeming reluctant to take 

 flight till finally it is compelled to do so. The moorhen 

 is, indeed, the most irresolute of all wild birds. 



