THE WRYNECK. 191 



darting away over the foaming crest of some moun- 

 tain wave, they attend the labouring bark in all her 

 perilous course. When the storm subsides they 

 retire to rest, and are no more seen. The presence 

 of this petrel was thought in times past to predict a 

 storm, and it was consequently looked upon as an 

 unwelcome visitant. 



The wryneck (jynx torquilla) visits us an- 

 nually, but in very uncertain numbers, and from 

 some unknown cause, or local changes, in yearly 

 diminishing quantities. In one short season after 

 its arrival we hear its singular monotonous note at 

 intervals through half the day. This ceases, and 

 we think no more about it, as it continues perfectly 

 mute ; not a twit or a chirp escapes to remind us 

 of its presence during all the remainder of its 

 sojourn with us, except the maternal note or hush 

 of danger, which is a faint, low, protracted hiss- 

 ing, as the female sits clinging by the side or on 

 the stump of a tree. Shy and unusually timid, as 

 if all its life were spent in the deepest retirement 

 away from man, it remains through the day on 

 some ditch bank, or basks with seeming enjoyment, 

 in any sunny hour, on the ant-hills nearest to its 

 retreat ; and these it depopulates for food, by 

 means of its long glutinous tongue, which with the 

 insects collects much of the soil of the heaps, as 

 we find a much larger portion of grit in its 

 stomach than is usually met with in that of other 

 birds. When disturbed it escapes by a flight pre- 

 cipitate and awkward, hides itself from our sight, 



