264 THE entomologist's record. 



have been caused by a bird's beak, they could only conceivably have 

 been caused by the insect having been seized in its natural position 

 when at rest, i.e., with its wings held together vertically over the back. 



I do not imagine, however, that the question will ever be decided 

 by the work of one individual. Life is too short, and the opportunities 

 of observation too limited. It will, I believe, only be by the united 

 observations and records of many workers, carefully pieced together, 

 that a full solution of the prolDlem will ultimately be arrived at. 

 And it is with the object of contributing my mite of evidence, and in the 

 hope of provoking further discussion, that I should like to record one 

 or two facts which have actually come under my own observation. 



Upon one occasion in Cornwall I managed to cultivate such 

 friendly relations with a pair of Blue Tits {Parus caendeus), that they 

 continued to feed their young ones undisturbed by the fact that I was 

 sitting within a couple of yards of the hole in a stone wall wherein 

 was their nest. I remained watching them for at least an hour, during 

 which time the male bird visited the nest with food on an average 

 once every two minutes. The hen Vv^as rather shy at first, and would 

 not come nearer than the boughs of an oak tree above my head, but 

 ultimately she gained sufficient confidence to take her share in the 

 task of feeding her nestlings. Their happy hunting-ground seemed to 

 be this oak, and one or two others which grew near by, and the chief 

 food they brought was small green caterpillars— probably the larvii* of 

 CJieiiuatohia brnmata — but they also brought a good many imagines of 

 the green Tortrix, T. viridana. Now these must undoubtedly have 

 been secured when at rest, and undoubtedly, also, their close agree- 

 ment in colour with the oak-leaves would be of service to them for 

 purposes of concealment. 



Again, during July and the first week of August, 1905, when 

 staying in a bungalow in the middle of Dartmoor, I used frequently 

 to watch the doings of two young Cuckoos, and their attendant foster- 

 parents, which were in both cases Titlarks or Meadow Pipits [Anthus 

 prateims). One of the young Cuckoos, though so late in the year, was 

 still quite unfiedged, but the other seemed to be nearly full-feathered, 

 and frequently settled on the fence around the bungalow, and on a 

 tall forked stick which stood up in the field behind. It used to settle 

 on the very top of the longer side of the fork, and the foster-parents, 

 having vainly tried to feed it from the other extremity, which 

 was much shorter, at last adopted the plan of perching on the young 

 Cuckoo's shoulders, and feeding it from thence. The Cuckoo would 

 bend its head back between its shoulders, and the Titlark would reach 

 over and put the morsel in its open beak. It was a sweetly pretty 

 sight, and I frequently regretted the absence of a camera, as I should 

 have much liked to photograph it. But the point of special interest is 

 this, that on two occasions when I was watching, owing to some mis- 

 management on the part of the birds, the prey escaped and flattered 

 away, though the Titlark in both instances pursued it in the air, and 

 ultimately captured it. In both cases the insect was a moth, and in 

 one case when I was quite close to the birds and watching through 

 my field-glasses, I was able to identify the species with absolute 

 certainty. It was Melenydis didi/wata, as I am nearly certain it was 

 on the other occasion also. Now M. didymata simply swarms at dusk 

 over the heather near the bungalow during the last week in July and 



