AN ORNITHOLOGIST ON THE DANUBE. 547 



number of individuals and for their variety of form and colouring. 

 Let any one look at the most conspicuous of these marsh-dwellers 

 in a collection, and then let him endeavour to picture them to 

 himself standing, walking, running, climbing, flying, in short, 

 living, and he will be obliged to admit that such bird-life is 

 marvellously attractive." This description is correct even if it be 

 applied to the impoverished island of Adony. Much as its once 

 teeming population has dwindled, there are still thousands and 

 thousands of birds. For long stretches of the forest every high 

 tree bears nests, many having twenty or thirty, and all about these 

 is the noisy bustle of sociable bird-life. Upon the nests sit the 

 female rooks, common herons, night-herons, and cormorants, looking 

 out with dark, sulphur-yellow, blood-red, and sea-green eyes upon 

 the intruder who has invaded their sanctuary; sitting and climbing 

 on the topmost boughs of the giant trees, or fluttering, flying, 

 floating above them are black, brown, gray, one-coloured and 

 many-coloured, dull and shimmering bird forms; above these, kites 

 are circling; on the trunks woodpeckers are hanging, hard at work; 

 sleek, gleaming white-throats are seeking their daily bread among 

 the blossom of a pear-tree, finches and willow-wrens among the 

 fresh foliage of the bird-cherry. The beautiful carpet of woodruff 

 which covers the ground in many places is spattered and soiled 

 with the excrement of birds, and disfigured by broken eggs or their 

 shells, and by decomposing fish which have fallen from the nests. 



The first shot from the gun of our gracious patron caused an 

 indescribable confusion. The startled herons rose screaming, and 

 the rooks with stupefying croaking; the cormorants, too, forsook 

 their nests with angry screeches. A cloud of birds formed over 

 the forest, drifted hither and thither, up and down, became denser 

 and overshadowed the tree-tops, broke up into groups which sank 

 hesitatingly down towards their forsaken nests, enveloped these 

 completely for a little, and then united again with the main mass. 

 Every single one screamed, croaked, cawed, and screeched in the 

 most ear-piercing fashion; everyone took to flight, but was drawn 

 back again by anxiety for nest and eggs. The whole forest 

 was in an uproar; yet, careless of the terrifying noise, the finch 



