48 A BIRD COLLECTOR’S MEDLEY. 
just keeping clear of his ambush, and passing on its way unscathed. I was 
more interested myself in his account of some Hobbies which had nested 
the year before in the hillside coverts, and paid the usual penalty for 
their temerity. I put in a word on their behalf, and extracted the confession 
that “they did seem simple-minded little creatures, certainly.” 
Simple-mindedness, however, is probably the most unfortunate quality 
that a Hawk can possess, and though he offered to let any such future 
visitors alone until I arrived to deal with them, I saw that the concession 
partook only of the nature of a reprieve, and that after I had secured my 
pair the death sentence would soon be executed on the remaining birds. As 
a matter of fact, when I visited the wood in the following August, no trace 
of Hobbies was to be found. 
Kestrels may still be called common on the Downs. I watched seven 
one day all in the air at once, calling to one another as they sailed 
backwards and forwards over the rolling plain. Whether they escaped I 
know not, for they were absurdly tame, and I could have shot four that 
morning had I desired to do so. 
As for Harriers, on the Downs proper I have never seen or heard of 
one, but the fir copses are the regular resort of numerous Long-eared Owls, 
which may be found at times drawn bolt upright against the trunks, some- 
times under the shelter of an old nest. They seem more inclined to move 
by day than the other species. These same copses are also regularly 
frequented by Carrion Crows, Jays, and Magpies, the latter seeming, how- 
ever, to prefer the small clumps of beeches with which many of the hills 
are crowned. In these they build their nests, and may often be seen 
feeding in the long grass around them. The difference between the 
behaviour of the Magpie here and in the Channel Islands is most marked. 
In Guernsey they were numerous and impudent, but there was no game, 
and no one shot them, the result being that they used even to frequent the 
gardens in the town. In Hampshire, the most one sees of them is a 
flicker of black and white as they shuffle off from the beeches the moment 
one emerges from the nearest copse. 
And now to come to the one fine bird that we may fairly hope to 
meet with on the Downs—the bird par excellence of the district—the Stone 
Curlew. This interesting link between the lost Bustard and the Plovers 
is probably far commoner in Hampshire than is generally supposed. On 
Farley Mount my brother has seen a flock of twenty-three in the autumn. 
I have heard of equally large numbers elsewhere. Nor is this all; it is 
generally distributed, and pairs may be met with on many of the higher 
