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In this island it is always resident ; but here, and apparently in all countries 

 where it dwells, it desires a change in spring and autumn. In the lower and 

 flatter lands it is only seen in autumn and winter ; in Oxford it never fails to 

 come in September (or sometimes earlier), and as regularly leaves us in January. 

 I have taken some pains to ascertain whether it is ever seen in Oxfordshire after 

 that month ; but all that I can hear of it is that once or twice a pair have been 

 known to breed in some place, such as under the stone work of a lock, where 

 there has been the constant rush of water which they love.* In January they are 

 ofiF, almost to a bird, to Wales and Cumberland and Scotland, where the streams 

 break and tumble instead of oozing gently through moist meadows ; and there 

 they stay till the young broods are grown. So long as these young broods are 

 unable to shift entirely for themselves, they remain together under the eyes of the 

 parents, and will play together like wagtails of other kinds. On the 26th of last 

 month, I was strolling on a mountain-path in the Bernese Oberland, when I came 

 suddenly into a little glen, through which a stream rushed, at the foot of a wall of 

 rock some 50 feet high. Dancing about stream and rock, almost like swallows, 

 and occasionally resting on the rock's face, or on the young pines which grew 

 about it, was a family of these graceful birds. So restless were they, so quick and 

 nimble in every action, that the eye could hardly follow them, and it was with the 

 greatest difficulty that I could get my glass fixed upon one of them. The same 

 agility is shown when these young families come down in September from the 

 mountains, which are then getting too cool for them, and congregate by the banks 

 of some large river in the valley. I have seen them in great numbers, just after 

 their arrival, very busy in catching flies over the water of a rushing glacier-stream, 

 and mixing with their cousins the white wagtails ; the air seemed to be full of 

 dancing birds, and the banks alive with gently-moving tails. As they hung in air 

 over the stream, the tail was often spread out wide, like that of a hovering kestrel, 

 whilst the rapidly-moving wings danced them up and down. 



But as a rule, when grown older, the grey wagtails are somewhat quiet and 

 deliberate in their ways, though always full of grace ; they are, indeed, if I may 

 be allowed to use the expresion of both sexes, extremely lady-like birds. And 

 there is a certain look in them of great content — or even of self-satisfaction — as 

 they trip along, unaware that they are observed, by the water's edge ; with no lack 

 of food, with the pleasant noise of the water ever in their ears, and with those 

 long tails of theirs ever going up and down, as if in rhythm with the water. 



And now for a word about this tail-wagging, about which you have heard 

 so much in this half-hour, and which in many counties has given them the name of 

 "Dishwasher." It is the one great characteristic of the birds, and deserves a 

 passing comment in conclusion. What does this continual motion of the tail mean ? 

 This may seem at first an unnecessary, if not an absurd, question. But we know 

 what is meant when a dog wags, or a cat waves its tail ; and the only difference 

 would seem to be that in the case of cats and dogs the motion is occasional, while 

 with the wagtails it is habitual. I have never seen a satisfactory explanation of it, 



*In June, 1891, Mr. O. V. Aplin and I found a nest in the wall of a mill-dam near Banbury. 

 (W.W.F.) 



