THE WAGTAILS 249 



It is where the landscapes intermingle that one sees this inter- 

 mingling of habits, out of which sprang, doubtless for all his move- 

 ments are sudden Cindus aquaticus, the water-ouzel, a more frequent, 

 or, at least, a more characteristic figure of the above little picture. 

 He but I am forgetting the feeding of the young grey-wagtails, 

 now fully fledged, and having, for some little while, left the nest. We 

 will take another sketch for them, then, for, now I bethink me, the 

 above belongs to a fine morning in autumn. Here is one, of the late 

 days of July or the early ones of August. As a baby has its chair, 

 so the young and much greyer grey-wagtail has its own stone, to stand 

 on, and the parents having fed it there, with the products both of 

 air and water, fly, in their long, sweeping curves, down the music- 

 murmuring stream, and are lost in a dip or a bend of it. For the 

 best part of an hour they keep away, and, all this while, the baby 

 stands still, on its stone, not often moving even its head, or still 

 more remarkable its tail. 



This is perhaps somewhat curious, since that spirit of restless 

 activity which we are accustomed to associate with youth, and take 

 .note of in kittens and puppies, seems here quite wanting. How 

 powerful the instinct of incubation must be, to keep motionless, for 

 hour after hour, so active and warm-blooded a creature as a bird, 

 is a reflection of Darwin's, but, in this case, a young, yet fully fledged 

 and " unhouselled " one, stands motionless, for a length of time, with- 

 out any such imperious necessity. Did it move, and keep moving, 

 however, it might be difficult for its parents, on their return, to find 

 it, and thus for I have made the same observation with other 

 young birds one perhaps sees something protective in this apparent 

 lethargy. Yet taking into consideration how many adult birds will 

 sit quietly, often for a considerable time as, for instance, wood- 

 pigeons in trees perhaps, after all, unless it has something particular 

 to do, there is no general feeling which drives a bird into activity. 

 The wild animal acts, probably, under a series of impulses (more 

 specialised and defined than our own), which together answer to the 



