CUCULUS CANORUS. 519 



filled the nest — like a young pigeon. It was got by watching 

 the old pipits with worms in their bills. On " Gowks' Day," 

 April 1st, 1894, this early harbinger of summer was heard in 

 KeiPs Den, Largo ; Maspy Den, Falkland ; in the woods near 

 Leslie House ; Wemyss Castle ; at Balgonie Castle, Markinch ; 

 and at Dysart. On June 18th, 1893, one frequented a garden 

 in North Street, near the United College, close by where some 

 gooseberry bushes were infested with green caterpillars. Being 

 a holiday — built on Jezebel's "Fast Day" — the shops were 

 closed ; no bird-lime could be got. So the proprietor, having 

 linseed oil, made bird-lime for himself by boiling it for five 

 hours, as he was sure the great number of caterpillars on his 

 bushes would attract the bird to his garden. He saw it 

 alight on a wire fence close to the bushes, so he tied a bit of 

 pease- stick on the top of the fence besmeared with his bird-lime. 

 In ten minutes the cuckoo alighted, and was caught. It lived a 

 fortnight in a sparred box, fed chiefly with the caterpillars, but it 

 died — a fine specimen. He got it stuffed, and still has it — a 

 singular capture in the city, commented upon in the press at 

 the time. In June 1888 and May 1889 I both saw and heard 

 one about the gardens in the city. So it is not so rare about 

 St Andrews, nor essentially a wood bird, like its congeners, the 

 woodpeckers and creepers, preferring open pastures or heaths, or 

 gardens where caterpillars abound. Although it perches on a 

 tree or a stone, it is no more a climber than a lark or a swallow, 

 but from its formation of feet (like a parrot or woodpecker) it 

 can grasp small twigs or a wire ; but from its very short legs, 

 queer toes, and long wings it is a bad walker, and almost as bad 

 at rising from the ground as a swift. Its flight is also swift and 

 gliding — usually low — sometimes mistaken for the sparrow hawk. 

 In hilly moorland it skims over the ground," alights on a stone or 

 crag, and balances itself like a wagtail, throws up its tail, lowers 

 its wings, and tells its name to the air. In woods it glides 

 with great celerity, and perches firmly, but is very shy, and 

 keeps out of sight. Hence it is much oftener heard than seen : 

 and because it leaves us early is called the bird of July. 



" He's told his name to every grove — 

 Cry shame such vanity upon — 

 Yet now at parting we grow sad, 



For when he leaves us Spring has gone." 



And regarding its ventriloquism, I may just say it is 



" The same whom, in my schoolboy days, 

 I listened to that cry 



