284 The Field Naturalist's Quarterly Nov. 



Or again (" All's Well that Ends Well," v. i)— 

 " Chough's language, gabble enough." 



I have never met the bird in England, but I know it in 

 the north of Spain and on the Alps, and fully indorse the 

 above quotations. They are not shy. If one settles down 

 to lunch, they will gather round and discourse largely — 

 nay, some of the bolder ones will come up quite close, and 

 pick up any fragment one may throw to them. 



It was probably this oracular language of the Chough 

 that made Shakspear put into Macbeth's mouth (" Mac- 

 beth," iv. 4)— 



"Augurs and understood relations are 

 By maggot-pies, and choughs and rooks brought forth, 

 The secret'st man of blood." 



"Maggot-pies" has puzzled the ordinary reader, who has 

 connected it with the putrescent corpse. But really the 

 matter is quite simple. Pica rustica, the Magpie, was known 

 in France as la Pie, and just as in English we have got 

 into the habit of calling the Redbreast Robin, so in France 

 they called la Pie, Margot, and our ordinary name is but 

 the contraction of Margot-pie. 



It seems odd that he should not have more fully appre- 

 ciated the Daw (Corvus monednla), perhaps the most intel- 

 ligent of this family. This he fails to recognise, for in " i 

 Henry VI." (ii. 4) he says — 



" But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, 

 Good faith ! I am no wiser than the daw." 



Beyond that they merely strike him as a greedy pecking 

 bird ("Othello," i. i)— 



" Wear my heart upon my sleeve 

 For daws to peck at." 



Or again (" Much Ado about Nothing," v. 3) — 

 "And choke a daw withal." 



