156 THE RING OUZEL. 



The cold north wind ruffles his glossy feathers ; 

 Full oft he looks, but dare not make approach, 

 Then turns his yellow beak to peck his side, 

 And claps his wings close to his sharpened breast. 

 The wandering fowler from behind the hedge 

 Fastens his eye upon him, points his gun, 

 And firing wantonly, as at a mark, 

 Of life bereaves him in the cheerful spot 

 That oft hath echoed to his summer song. 



THE RING OUZEL (Turdus torquatus), sometimes called the 

 Rock, Tor, or Mountain Ouzel, the Moor, or White-breasted 

 Blackbird, is a migratory species, somewhat larger than the 

 common Blackbird. It arrives here in April, and departs 

 in October, passing the time of its residence amongst us 

 chiefly in the hilly and mountainous districts. It is a bird 

 which having been once seen cannot easily be forgotten, on 

 account of the broad half-moon-shaped patch of white on 

 the forepart of its breast, where it looks like a collar hung 

 round the neck, and reaching far down ; the rest of it is 

 brownish black, some of the feathers being edged with white 

 or grey. This is somewhat larger than the Blackbird, mea- 

 suring about ten inches and a-half in length. The Ring 

 Ouzels are found in most parts of Europe, breeding in the 

 north. They are migratory in Germany, which they reach 

 in the foggy season, about November ; they congregate in 

 small flocks, and resort to those places among the mountains 

 where juniper berries abound. They are extremely shy 

 and vigilant, and seldom permit a near approach. The 

 nest of this bird is composed of coarse grass, plastered in- 

 ternally with mud, and lined with finer grass. It is usually 

 placed under the shelter of a juniper or other bush, on the 

 face of a rough bank, or perhaps among fragments of rock. 

 The eggs, from four to six in number, are of a pale blueish 

 green, freckled all over with pale brown. The young are 

 fledged early in June. 



It was, [says Macgillivray,] in the magnificent valley of Cornisk 

 that I first became practically acquainted with it, having accidentally 

 met with a whole brood accompanied by their parents in July 1818. 

 There, on the craggy slopes of the lofty and singularly peaked 

 masses of the Cullin mountains, among the scattered tufts of heath, 



