WOOD PIGEON. 157 



similar instance of extraordinary confidence was exhibited, and 

 probably by the same birds, in the following spring. 



Some people, we all know, adopt very singular theories on 

 certain subjects; and so long as they are theories merely, or 

 quite innocent, or their upholders do not seek to enforce 

 their adoption upon other people, I do not see why the 

 theorists should be disturbed in their belief, and on this 

 ground I claim indulgence when I assert my belief that 

 these very familiar and fearless Ring Doves were either the 

 direct descendants of my old pet, or that one of them was 

 the identical pet in question. I make a point of believing 

 this, for it is to me a satisfactory belief, and it is not after 

 all a very singular theory, although it must be confessed 

 that a period of five or six years intervened between the 

 departure of my bird and the occurrence of this instance of 

 fearless tameness.' 



The following, too, occurs in 'Jesse's Scenes and Tales of 

 Country Life:' 'Every sportsman knows that the Common 

 Wood Pigeon (the Eing Dove) is one of the shyest birds we 

 have, and so wild that it is very difficult indeed to get 

 within shot of one. This wild bird has however been known 

 to lay aside its usual habits. In the spring of 1839, some 

 village boys brought two young Wood Pigeons, taken from 

 the nest, to the parsonage house of a clergyman, in Glouces- 

 tershire, from whom I received the following anecdote: 'They 

 were bought from the boys merely to save their lives, and 

 sent to an old woman near the parsonage to be bred up. 

 She took great care of them, feeding them with peas, of 

 which they are very fond. One of them died, but the other 

 grew up and was a fine bird. Its wings had not been cut, 

 and as soon as it could fly it was set at liberty. Such, 

 however, was the effect of the kindness it had received, that 

 it would never quite leave the place. It would fly to great 

 distances, and even associate with others of its own kind; 

 but it never failed to come to the house twice a day to be 

 fed. The peas were placed for it in the kitchen window. 

 If the window was shut, it would tap with its beak till it 

 was opened, then come in, eat its .meal, and then fly off 

 again. If by any accident it could not then gain admittance, 

 it would wait somewhere till the cook came out, when it 

 would pitch on her shoulder, and go with her into the 

 kitchen. What made this more extraordinary was, that the 

 cook had not bred the bird up, and the old woman's cottage 



