5 8 A BIRD COLLECTOR'S MEDLEY. 



In size and shape they resemble Robins more than Redstarts, and they 

 have a darker look than the Redstart as they fly. Few would imagine 

 from seeing an old bird on the wing how beautiful they are in the hand. 

 Most of those shot have only a blue gorget, and the shade of blue varies, 

 sometimes having a mauve tint in it, and at others being brighter and more 

 metallic. I once shot one with blue moustaches as well as a splendid breast, 

 and another that came under my notice had a blue throat into the bargain. 



The capture of a rarity is almost always followed by a general, if 

 somewhat illogical, invasion of the bushes on the succeeding day. All the 

 local gunners turn out for the occasion, and ill indeed does it fare with 

 any unfortunate Warblers that may happen to be harbouring there at the 

 time. Numerous Redstarts fall victims to those who are in pursuit of the 

 Bluethroat, and many Willow-Wrens pay the penalty of greatness in being 

 so closely allied to the much prized Icterine. 



But perhaps the bird that it is most easy to mistake for a good one 

 is, curiously enough, the Robin ! It seems absurd at first sight, but the 

 fact is a Robin in the bushes on migration is a very different creature 

 to the familiar inhabitant of our gardens, and at times it is most 

 difficult to identify it. You don't see the red on the breast at all, and 

 what you think you see is a strange dark Warbler with a flight that 

 may mean anything. I never feel in the least surprised when anyone tells 

 me that he has shot a Robin by mistake. 



I remember, the day after the killing of an Aquatic, meeting two 

 fisher boys returning from a raid. One of them carried a sack, and 

 from the depths of this receptacle they retrieved at length two birds 

 which they asked me to identify. They proved to be a Whinchat and a 

 Titlark, but sometimes it is the other way altogether. A shooter came 

 into the local naturalist's one evening with half a dozen shore birds to 

 have them examined. The best was a Knot, and he was retiring with 

 evident disappointment. 



" Sure you have nothing else, sir ? " said the Professor, whose experience 

 of beginners was a lengthy one. 



" Well, only some sort of a Shrike in my pocket," replied the sports- 

 man, and out he fished, to the general amazement, a Barred Warbler ! 

 The supposition, however, was not so wide of the mark as one might suppose, 

 for Dr. Power told me that when he shot his, it did sit up and behave itself 

 very much after the manner of a Shrike. Still, the bird here referred to 

 was shot while skulking during a short squall, which very probably brought 

 it down to its doom. 



