52 A BIRD COLLECTOR'S MEDLEY. 



short distance. Their movements were much like those of Wagtails. They 

 often darted up for a moment to secure an insect, and I saw one miss 

 a butterfly, though settled on a flower. They were accompanied by a 

 sprinkling of Whinchats, a bird which, like the Stonechat, is generally 

 distributed in suitable places throughout the district. 



In winter the bleak expanse of downland has few attractions for the 

 naturalist. A small flock of Goldfinches is about the most one can hope 

 to meet with, and it is satisfactory to be able to record that, like the 

 Lapwing, the Goldfinch appears to be steadily recovering its numbers. 

 If there are any about, they will be on those portions of the downs 

 which are dotted at intervals with thistles, and their merry note and 

 glancing wings will soon draw attention to their presence. Such other 

 birds as are to be found will mostly frequent the neighbourhood 

 of ricks, and here in hard weather Bramblings and Cirl-Buntings may 

 sometimes be secured, the latter being easy to overlook, and more rarely 

 we get a flying visit from the Snow-Bunting ; but as a rule the smaller 

 birds seem at this season to find their way into the less exposed meadows 

 near the river, and there is little to interest one on the downs. 



Though the furze and heather-clad heaths which are to be found near 

 Aldershot and in Dorsetshire can hardly be termed downs, yet a mention 

 of the birds to be found there may perhaps most fittingly be inserted in 

 the present chapter. Stonechats and Titlarks are of course common upon 

 them, but there are two more interesting species which seem specially 

 partial to their wild expanse. The first of these is Montagu's Harrier. 

 Perhaps to-day the commonest of the British Harriers, it still makes an 

 occasional effort to rear a brood in these localities, and though there is no 

 great probability of a stranger meeting with one on any given day, a 

 person who has an eye to likely places may with luck tumble on the bird. 

 There is no mistaking it if you do, the long peaked wings and light grey 

 plumage at once attracting attention as it flies across the sombre plain. 

 A splendid old male, which I put up in April, 1900, from beside a 

 brackish pool in the midst of a Dorset heath, showed no marked 

 symptoms of alarm at my presence, but settled contentedly about eighty 

 yards off on a furze bush, and allowed me to have a steady look at him 

 before he at length took wing. 



I have several times since visited the heath in question in the hope 

 of meeting another, but I have never again seen a sign of one, and I now 

 regard the above-mentioned bird as having been a sort of avine Last of 

 the Mohicans, which very possibly never found a mate. Indeed, the heath 



