THE STONECHAT. 319 
merely flit from bush to bush, elude you probably at last, but eventually 
again appear after some little time on their favourite perching-places. 
We have thus known portions of rough land, not an acre in extent, always 
tenanted by a pair of birds, and for years they have not been seen away 
from it. We would also here note that the name ‘Stone’-Chat is a 
misnomer as applied to this species. The Wheatear is the true Stone-Chat, 
the present bird and the Whinchat being far more aptly called ‘ Bush- 
Chats,’ a name applied to them by the ever-discerning and talented 
Macgillivray.” 
The food of the Stonechat is very similar to that of the Whinchat; but 
in the winter it eats seeds of various kinds, worms, and small grubs and 
larve. Its summer fare is composed almost entirely of insects, and the 
small beetles and worms found in marshy places and amongst the droppings 
of cattle. Like the Whinchat, the present species secures much of its 
insect food whilst hovering in the air, catching flies on the wing just lke 
the Flycatcher or Redstart. It is in these flights that the bird’s varied 
plumage is seen to best advantage, especially if its quarry be pursued 
for any considerable distance, as is frequently the case. The Stonechat 
has been known to make flights after small brown moths, and occasionally 
to take the common white butterfly. In winter, should the frost be 
severe, the Stonechat is often seen in marshy places, or on the banks of 
the streams that wander through them, in search of whatever it can 
find edible at a time when food is so scarce. 
In spring, when all nature seems reviving under the cheerful beams of a 
brighter sun, the Stonechat’s melody is amongst the first to inform us of 
the change of season. It is the first music heard on the upland wastes, 
except, indeed, that of the Skylark. Long before the Meadow-Pipits are 
in song, or the Buntings chant their monotonous music, the little Stonechat 
may be heard to pour forth his cheering notes. Nothing very remarkable, 
it is true—a short performance, low of strain, and little varied; yet it 
forms a pleasant variety in itself, and a cheerful contrast to so much that 
is wild and lonely in the surrounding country. The little creature starts, 
may be, from a spray of broom, which rebounds and quivers as he leaves 
it, and, flattering in the air, he utters his music and retires to his perch 
again. His song is like his flight, short and irregular, and no sooner 
heard and began to be appreciated and listened to with pleasure than 
it ceases, only to be renewed when the little chorister bounds fluttering 
into the air again. Its call-notes are somewhat similar tojthose of the 
Whinchat, a sharply uttered w-tsik, tsik, tsik, or, more frequently, but 
one syllable alone, ésik, ¢sik, tsik, the tail usually being gracefully wafted 
to and fro as each note is uttered. 
The barren moors, the wild uplands and heaths where the furze bushes 
attain such luxuriance, and where the stunted juniper bushes, brambles, 
