V2 APPENDIX : NO. XLVI. 
After a careful stalk I came upon a family of Hawk-Owls, one of 
which dropped a mouse as I fired. It was in the day-time; they 
were very little alarmed, and I could have shot them all. I am told 
that they breed in ‘ tyllyrs.’ I have not found a nest, but shall set 
up some convenient houses for them this autumn.” 
MLVILI. 
Sone or tHE Repwine (Tvurpbvs 2140s). 
[‘ Zoologist,’ xii. (1854) pp. 4204, 4205.] 
“Wnuen they have young, the old Redwings are bold, flying 
suddenly towards the face of. an intruder with an angry note, some- 
thing lke that of the Blackbird, snapping their beaks, and then 
wheeling rapidly out of sight. At other times, they use the same 
note as they fly from tree to tree round the nest, but they keep out 
of sight as much as possible. As she sits on her eggs, the white 
stripe over the eye of the Redwing is very conspicuous. Like other 
birds of the kind, she has so deep a cup to hold her that the rim of 
it necessarily chucks her under the chin, and makes her beak poimt 
upwards. 
““The Redwing and the Redstart sing here [Tornea Lappmark] all 
night ; the Redwing incessantly, night and day, without any variation. 
A string of three or four notes—tut-tut-tut—in a regular descending 
scale, and then a little inward twittering or warbling, the former at 
about the ordinary pitch of the voice of the Song Thrush (whose 
music, by the way, is infinitely superior), but the last part so faint 
and feeble as scarcely to amount to a whisper, and only to be heard 
at a short distance. For a long time I was not aware of the 
existence of this inward melody: perhaps the twittering of a Swallow 
on the house-top may give some little idea of it. The tut, tut, tut is 
repeated so constantly and regularly as to be quite tiresome, the 
rest seldom reaches the ear; nevertheless, these loud clear notes, 
followed at the end of the next interval by the suppressed scarcely 
distinguishable twitterings, make a very striking wood-sound. I 
much question whether it is ever to be heard in perfection before 
the bird leaves our islands. The inward kind of song I think f have 
heard up here very late in the year, but unpreceded by the bold open 
notes, and unfollowed by a repetition of them after a very short rest, 
as in the perfect spring song, which I heard for the last time this 
year about July 27th.” 
