CURIOSITIES OF WILD LIFE. 77 



A year or two ago I found the remains of a 

 lapwing that had perished miserably on the 

 Westmoreland Fells. The luckless creature had 

 got one of its legs entangled in a piece of coarse 

 sheep's wool attached to a growing heather stalk, 

 and by its struggles to free itself had twisted the 

 wool into a yarn of such consistency and strength 

 as to render escape hopeless and starvation 

 inevitable. 



During a natural history trip to Broadland 

 last spring, I had a brood of unfledged yellow 

 wagtails under daily observation. One morning, 

 when I visited the nest, I found a member of the 

 otherwise happy thriving family showing signs 

 of great distress. The chick was gasping in such 

 a convulsive way as to suggest that it would 

 soon bid adieu to all the dainty flies and other 

 pleasant things of this world. I lifted the little 

 sufferer from the nest, and was surprised to find 

 that a companion accompanied it a couple of 

 inches away and upside down. 



A cursory examination proved that all the 

 trouble was caused by one end of a fine piece of 

 nest lining fibrous grass having become entangled 

 about the neck of one chick and the other twisted 

 round the thigh of its companion. I quickly 

 released both birds, and thereby re-established 

 the comfort and harmony of the whole household. 



The remarkable behaviour of another brood 



