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the old High German hiegro, a heron, which Prof. Skeat thinks refers to its harsh 
voice. Hiegro became in French aigre, of which the diminutive is azgrette, our 
Egret; hiegro also became in Low Latin aigro, and (in the tenth century) airo, 
whence the modern French héron, our Heron. Heronshaw means a young Heron, 
being corrupted from the French héronceau, as is proved by the northern form, 
Heronsew; but Heronshaw, meaning a heronry, is a ‘‘ shaw,” or wood where 
Herons build. Finch, like the provincial Pink and Spink, is probably con- 
nected with ‘‘spangle,” and the Lettish spingeti, to glitter; it means not so 
much the “bright” as the ‘‘clear-voiced” bird; from the same root we have 
in Greek ¢éyyos, light, and ¢6éyyouar, I speak. Hoopoe is cognate with the 
upupa ; those who have had the good fortune to hear its note say that it is even 
sweeter than the Cuckoo’s; the French word huppe came to mean a tuft of 
feathers, from the Hoopoe’s tufted head. Owl is the bird that ‘‘ howls”: dropping 
h’s is a habit as old as language itself. Quail was in Dutch quackel, i.e. the bird 
that “quacks”; the present form comes from the French caiile, in old French 
quaille, Italian quaglia, from the Low Latin quaquila. Rail is the bird that 
“rattles”; in old Dutch rallen was short for ratelen, to rattle ; the French rdle 
means a rattle as well asarail. Shrike is the bird that “shrieks.” Siskin is akin 
to the Dutch sissen, to hiss or twitter. Turtle, from the Latin turtur, through its 
French diminutive tourterelle, is the bird that cries tur-tur. Whooper is ex- 
pressive of the Wild Swan’s loud and trumpet-like notes. 
In my next category, where names of birds are derived from their appearance, 
many sufficiently explain themselves, such as Blackbird, Blackcap, Bluethroat, 
Crossbill, Firecrest, Golderest, Goldfinch, Golden-eye, Greenfinch, Greenshank, 
Grosbeak, Pintail, Razorbill, Redbreast, Redpoll, Redshank, Redstart (where 
start is the Anglo-Saxon steort, a tail), Redwing, Stilt, Waxwing, Whitethroat, 
Wryneck, and Yellowshank. In others, however, the meaning is considerably 
obscured, either by the successive changes through which the name has passed 
during its development from the primitive form, or from cognate words having 
dropped out of use. Avocet is in Italian avocetta ; Prof. Skeat, to whom I am 
indebted for many valuable suggestions, finds that in Spanish the Wigeon is 
called avucasta, and this he connects with our word ‘‘avocet”; perhaps the 
delicate appearance and purely contrasted plumage of the bird may have gained 
it the name of avis casta, the ‘‘chaste bird.” Avocet, Bustard, and Ostrich are 
thus all compounds of the Latin avis, a bird, notwithstanding their dissimilarity : 
avis casta, avis tarda, and avis struthio having been the original forms. Brent is 
probably “burnt” goose, from its generally charred appearance. Coot is the 
“bob-tailed hen”; itis in Welsh cwtiar, from cwta, short, bob-tailed, and iar a hen; 
so that coot is cognate with ‘‘cut.” Cormorant is from corvus marinus, the ‘ sea 
crow ”; the Portuguese call it corvo-marinho, but our word may be confused with 
the Latin corvus, a crow, and the Breton name for the Cormorant, morvran, from 
mor, the sea, and bran, a crow. Dunlin is the ‘‘little dun bird.” Falcon is the 
bird with ‘‘hooked ” claws, from the same stem as the Latin falz, a sickle. Grebe 
is akin to the Breton word krib, a comb, and kriben, a tuft of feathers on a bird’s 
head. Grouse is probably akin to the French griesche, gray, speckled ; Prof. Skeat 
