70 THE BIRDS OF OUR RAMBLES. 



moss intermixed, and lined sparingly with hair. 

 The four or five eggs are pale sky-blue, and 

 spotless. As is usual with most birds that display 

 gregarious instincts, if only periodically, the young 

 are tended for some time after they leave the 

 nest, and their parents become very solicitous 

 for their safety when we approach, flying to and 

 fro in the air overhead, uttering their plaintive 

 notes, or alighting on the ground and walls to 

 watch our movements. The short song of the 

 Wheatear is often given forth as the male flutters 

 in the air, but it becomes less and less frequent 

 as summer advances, although it is sometimes re- 

 newed in autumn. The very distinctive call-note 

 of this bird is an oft repeated chic-chac-chac. As 

 soon as the autumn moult, in August, is over, 

 the southern migration begins, and there are 

 few Wheatears left in our islands by the end of 

 September. 



Amongst the gorse coverts on the sides of 

 the open downs, but more especially in the fields 

 which are reserved for hay, we are sure to meet 

 with another little bird somewhat closely allied 

 but to the Wheatear, and this is the WIIINCHAT 

 (Pratincola rubetra). Its habit of clinging to the 

 tall weeds in the mowing grass, its rufous breast, 

 brown upper plumage, and white eyestripe, make 

 identification easy ; and the monotonous call-note 

 of n-tac, ^l-lac, tac-tac-tac , an easier matter still. 

 The Whinchat arrives in April, and until the her- 

 bage in the fields is sufficiently dense it keeps much 

 to the trees and hedges. But as soon as the tall 

 stems of cow-parsley grow up among the meadow 

 grass, and the docks and other weeds are sufficiently 

 strong to hold the bird, these places are forsaken,,, 



