BIRDS OF THE PEAK 131 



cuba ting — I stumble on a dozen nests a day — he is 

 wooing and fighting all the time, and the fights are 

 not mere shows like those of the ruff, a pretty little 

 feathered French duellist, and other quarrelsome 

 species that fight often without hurting one another. 

 The red grouse that looks like a stone hurls himself 

 like a stone against his adversary, and whether he 

 breaks bones or not he makes the polished feathers fly 

 in clouds. Yet in his wooing this stone-like bird some- 

 time attains to grace of motion. That is when, 

 carried away by his passion, he mounts into the air, 

 and if there is any wind to help him rises easily to a 

 good height and performs in descending a love flight 

 resembling that of the cushat and turtle-dove. But 

 in his vocal performances there is no grace or beauty, 

 only power. You are astonished at the sounds he emits 

 when he bursts out very suddenly rattling and drum- 

 ming — rrrrrr-rub-a-dub-dub ; or you may liken it to 

 a cachinnatory sound as if a gritstone rock standing 

 among the heather had suddenly burst out laughing. 

 Then he changes his tone to a more hur n sound like 

 a raven's croak prolonged, which breaks up into shorter 

 sounds at the end — ah-ha ! come here, come back, 

 go back, go back, quack, quack, or quick, quick, which 

 is probably what he really means. 



From the grouse and his rude noises I must now go 

 back to the delicate songsters, to give an impression 

 of the ring ouzel ; for oddly enough I had hitherto 

 had no opportunity of really watching and listening 

 to it during the breeding season. Certain birds at 



