WILD LIFE IN WINTER. 283 



fact, Jack Frost has been playing the strangest and 

 most beautiful vagaries in all directions. 



Birds are under some strange influence in such 

 hard weather as came to us at the close of the year 

 1890. I fancy hosts of migrants came to grief in 

 making their passage that foggy winter. For some 

 reason only known to themselves, the woodland dis- 

 tricts, rivers, ponds, and streams round and about the 

 immediate neighbourhood of the Surrey hills were, 

 comparatively speaking, deserted by the birds. For 

 certain species I searched most diligently in their 

 accustomed haunts, but without success. 



First on our list the birds of prey, so far as the 

 hawk tribe are concerned, were conspicuous by their 

 absence ; not even a kestrel shows itself. This is 

 perhaps not surprising, for the whole tribe of Rap- 

 tores shift about a great deal, independently of their 

 regular migrations. I believe that very few of the 

 family breed here now, compared to the numbers 

 that come to us from beyond the sea, where flight- 

 nets are fixed for fowl. A fishing-net, the longer the 

 better if the mesh is just right, will tell a curious tale 

 at times regarding strange fowl that get meshed. 

 There is a good sale always for both web and hen 



