330 THE STARLING. 



squire to fell his aged oaks, his ash trees, and his sycamores, which 

 afforded the starling a retreat, it will not require the eyes of Argus 

 to enable naturalists to discern the true cause why such numbers of 

 assembled starlings take their leave of us in early spring. This year, 

 seven pairs of jackdaws, twenty-four pairs of starlings, four pairs of 

 ringdoves, the barn owl, the blackbird, the robin, the redslart, the 

 house sparrow, and chaffinch, have had their nests in the old ivy 

 tower. The barn owl has had two broods ; and, while I am writing 

 this, there are half-fledged young ones in the nest. As far as I can 

 learn, there has been no plundering of the eggs of this community, 

 on the part of the starlings. 



Now that autumn has set in, the movements of this delightful 

 assemblage of birds already warn us to prepare for winter's chilling 

 blasts. The redstart is gone to Africa : the chaffinch has retired to 

 the hawthorn hedges : the ringdoves, having lost half of their notes 

 by the first week in October, became mute about ten days ago, and 

 have left the ivy tower, to join their congregated associates, which 

 now chiefly feed in the turnip fields, and will return no more to the 

 ivy tower until the middle of February. The jackdaws are here, 

 morning and evening, and often at noon ; and at nightfall they never 

 fail to join the passing flocks of rooks in their evening flight to their 

 eastern roosting-place at Nostell Priory, and return with them after 

 daybreak. The starlings retire to a dense plantation of spruce fir 

 and beech trees, and in the morning come to the ivy tower to warble 

 their wild notes, even when the frost sets in. These birds are now 

 in their winter garb, which they assumed at the autumnal equinox, 

 much duller, and of a more grayish-white appearance, than that 

 which they had in the summer. I cannot find that naturalists have 

 noticed this change. 



The starling seems to be well aware of the peaceful and inoffensive 

 manners of the windhover. This hawk rears its young in a crow's 

 old nest, within two hundred yards of the ivy tower. Still, the star- 

 lings betray no fear when the windhover passes to and fro, but 

 they become terribly agitated on the approach of the sparrowhawk. 

 I often see this bold destroyer glide in lowly flight across the lake, 

 and strike a starling and carry it off, amid the shrieks and uproar of 

 the inhabitants of the tower and sycamore trees. The starling shall 



