THE STONECHAT. 85 



informs me that the bird is still in his collection. These three 

 are the only authentic records of specimens taken in Scotland; 

 but I have been informed by Mr George Kirkpatrick, that in 

 1858 he found a nest and eggs at Duncow, near Dumfries, 

 which he could not make out to belong to any other than this 

 species. The nest was placed on the ground, on a patch of waste 

 moor, and in structure resembled a yellow hammer's, but was 

 larger; the eggs, five in number, were shining and pure white. 

 The eggs of the Black Redstart are so characteristic, that, when 

 found in a situation like that described, they can hardly be mis- 

 taken for those of another species. 



THE STONECHAT. 



SAXICOLA RUBICOLA. 

 Cloichearan. Clacharan. 



A VERY common species, and in many districts resident all the 

 year, making itself conspicuous by its short, restless flight, and 

 habit of perching upon plants and low bushes, on the topmost 

 stems of which it invariably shows itself when disturbed. Its 

 note resembles the words, " Hey, chuck, chuck," and is more 

 noticeable when the young are hatched than at other seasons. 

 On the coasts of Ayrshire and Wigtownshire, its favourite haunts 

 are sandy fields covered with tall coarse weeds and bramble 

 bushes, among which it lingers through the summer and 

 autumn months. The male is a very pretty bird, looking so 

 dainty in his clean white collar, as he sits calling to the passer-by. 

 Yet there is perhaps no bird in the West of Scotland more sug- 

 gestive of waste places than the Stonechat. Distributed exten- 

 sively over all the counties bordering upon the sea, it is often seen 

 frequenting graveyards and other sombre haunts, flitting from 

 stone to stone uttering its clicking or spirit-rapping note, which, 

 in out of the way places especially, is so monotonous and eerie 

 that it begets a feeling which most persons, I daresay, would be 

 disinclined to encourage. 



Last autumn, when wandering on the shores of Benbecula, in 

 the Outer Hebrides, one evening towards dusk I happened to draw 

 near the only graveyard on the island, in the centre of which 

 stand the ruins of a Roman Catholic chapel. Hearing the familiar 



