196 THE WRYNECK. 



through the deep valleys of the abyss, and darting 

 away over the foaming crest of some mountain 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 unwel- 

 come visitant. 



The wryneck (jynx torquilla) visits us annually, 

 but in very uncertain numbers, and, from some un- 

 known cause, or local changes, in yearly diminish- 

 ing quantities. In one short season after its ar- 

 rival we hear its singular monotonous note at inter- 

 vals 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 dan- 

 ger, which is a faint, low, protracted hissing, 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 anthills nearest to its retreat ; and these it de- 

 populates 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 



