INTRODUCTION. 
In the olden time when the wolf and the wild boar roamed over 
the primitive forests of Great Britain, when the beaver held its own 
in our silent and undisturbed streams and lakes, when the red deer 
followed our mountain tracks in all the vigour of its pristine con- 
dition, when our marshes and great sedge-covered watery wastes 
were yearly visited by the Crane and the Spoonbill, the earliest dawn 
of natural history which was to herald the light of future ages had 
not yet broken upon the untutored Celt, who alone shared with those 
animals the possession of our islands. With the progress of civiliza- 
tion that obscurity has been gradually dispelled ; and, happily for our 
country, from the time when Gilbert White wrote his charming ac- 
count of Selborne, the study of natural history, more particularly 
with reference to our native birds, has gradually increased, until 
its pleasures have become widely known to both young and old. The 
talented Bewick rendered the subject still further attractive by his 
inimitable and truthful drawings; then followed in the same path 
Selby, Macgillivray, Thompson, and Yarrell, whose writings have 
made this branch of science so popular that it now engrosses the 
minds of thousands. Of the truth of this statement ample evidence 
is afforded by the numerous works (both great and small) which 
have been recently published, by the many local faunas which have 
lately appeared, and by the establishment of naturalists’ clubs and 
associations In many parts of the country. Such has been the im- 
petus given by these means to the study of natural history that 
it will scarcely be presumptuous in me to foretell that a period is 
not far distant when our native birds will be far more familiarly 
known to the people than they now are. For, although it may appear 
surprising to many of my readers, I assert that at the present 
time there are but few persons who could enumerate by name even 
a fourth part of the birds with which we are surrounded. Country 
people are familiar enough with the call of the Wryneck, the voice 
of the Cuckoo, and the crake of the Landrail; but few, very few, 
would recognize those birds if placed before them. Will it not, 
then, be well to encourage the formation of natural-history societies 
to the utmost, and doing so enlighten the minds of those who have 
hitherto been much in ignorance? With this spread of knowledge, 
mythical traditions such as that of the hibernation in caves or under 
water of such a bird as our common Swallow (traditions not confined, 
as might be presumed, to a remote country village, but which from 
time to time have found utterance in the lips of educated people) 
will happily cease to exist ; while the timid rustic, gradually freeing 
himself from the countless superstitions connected with many of 
our birds, will no longer pause with bated breath when startled at 
night by the not very cheerful cry of the Screech-Owl. To be in 
the country and not to care to recognize or be able to discriminate 
between the musical notes of the Thrush, the plaintive song 
of the Blackbird, the carol of the Lark, or the exquisite lay of the 
B 
