532 



THE RING DOVE OR CUSHAT. 



several broods in the year. On December 10th, 1891, I saw a 

 pair of young ones, full fledged, which were taken out 

 of the nest when the trees were covered with snow in a 

 fir wood near Cameron. They were sulky and wild, and 

 struck me with their wings when I lifted them up to inspeet 

 them. So this is one proof of late breeding \ but young ones 

 (and sometimes eggs) are often got in winter, which jars with 

 those who say they do not breed more than twice in the year. 

 Tennyson, in his " Miller's Daughter," says — 



"And oft I heard the tender dove 

 In firry woodlands making moan ;" 



but he never meant them "making moan" because the trees 

 were covered with snow when they had young in the nest. On 

 June 20th, 1894, one was shot near Kelso as pure white as 

 snow itself. In severe winters they are augmented here by 

 large flocks from Norway. One of my notes says : — 



" 15th December 1863— I saw several of the largest flocks of cushies I 

 have ever seen coming from seaward alighting on the fields and trees- 

 thousands in each flock. They arrived in different bodies for several days, 

 then dispersed over the country ; one of the most severe winters we have 

 had for several years. Though the snow was not so deep, the frost was 

 keen. " 



Many were shot here that year so thin as to be hardly worth 

 eating. Although it makes its shallow nest on trees, I got one 

 on the ground with eggs, May 4th, 1889, in a bunch of rashes on 

 Tentsmuir, near the old fir park — singular, so many trees close by. 

 As several authors say — " It is impossible to domesticate the 

 cushie ;" that " they will not breed by themselves or with the 

 common pigeon, but on being set free immediately fly off to 

 their natural haunts and return no more," I was surprised 

 when, on February 27th, 1878, walking to Gilston, near 

 Largo ward, I saw a female ring dove sitting on a tile roof, for a 

 pure white common male pigeon flapped up and began rookity- 

 cooing, courting her. She willingly bent, hopped, and spread 

 her tail in return. She had shorter, bolder hops than the 

 common pigeon. She flew off in the direction of the woods. 

 When half a mile away she flew higher and hovered, expecting 

 him to follow. He did so for half the distance, then returned, 

 proudly cracking the tips of his wings together, inviting her to 

 follow, which she did, and sat on the roof beside him. On 

 returning, I saw her again on a roof. On inquiry, I learned 

 that a son of one of the colliers got a pair of cushat's eggs the 

 previous autumn and set one of them in a common pigeon's 



