144 1{j4{MBLES OF A DOfMINIS 



wild swan and the crane, were in old times native here ; 

 but by degrees, as their haunts were broken up and 

 their sanctuaries invaded, they left us for some more 

 secluded region. 



There remain, then, only 128 which we may regard as 

 permanent residents birds which stay in England all 

 the year, and which, in their haunts, may be found at 

 any season. Some of them, larks and starlings, buntings 

 and finches, collect in flocks in winter, and wander in 

 search of food. And there are, after all, comparatively 

 few birds whose numbers are not augmented in the 

 autumn by arrivals from abroad, or who in times of 

 scarcity do not pass beyond the sea. 



The birds of the air are beset by many dangers. The 

 story of their little lives is darkened by ills that wait for 

 them in many forms. The jay plunders their unguarded 

 eggs; the crow makes havoc of their callow young, 

 while they by men and beast are slain on every hand. 

 But never tooth or talon, no treacherous snare, or even 

 murderous gun, is half so fatal to the race as is the grip 

 of a "real old-fashioned winter." Frost to them is 

 famine. The teal and mallard turn from rivers cased in 

 ice to forage on the wintry sea. On cold nights of 

 winter, the dunlins by the falling tide can gather still 

 some jetsam ere the white surf hardens on the sand. 

 But for the general throng, when their feet are power- 

 less on the frozen land, or when snow lies deep over 

 their hunting grounds, there is no choice but exile or 

 starvation. Thus, at the setting in of winter, myriads 

 of wild fowl journey south to seek more hospitable 



