290 



THE WHEATEAR. 



The WHEATEAE, or FALLOW CHAT, is a well-known visitant of the British Isles, and 

 on account of the delicate flavour of its flesh when fat, is sadly persecuted throughout the 

 whole time of its sojourn. 



Being in great favour for the table, where it is popularly known as the English 

 ortolan, and consequently fetching a good price in the market, it is caught in great 

 numbers, and sold to the game-dealers of London. The trap by which it is captured is a 

 remarkably simple affair, consisting merely of an oblong piece of turf cut from the soil, 

 and arranged crosswise over the cavity from which it was taken. A horsehair noose is 

 supported under the turf by means of a stick, and the trap is complete, needing no bait 

 or supervision. It is the nature of the Wheatear to run under shelter at the least alarm ; 

 a passing cloud sufficing to drive it under a stone or into a hole in a bank. Seeing, 

 therefore, the sheltering turf, the Wheatear runs beneath it, and is caught in the noose. 

 These simple traps are much used by the shepherds, who can make arid attend to four or 

 five hundred in a day, and have been known to catch upwards of a thousand Wheatears 

 within twenty-four hours. 



In the northern parts of England, the Wheatear is equally persecuted, but from super- 

 stitious motives ; the ignorant 

 countrymen imagining that its 

 presence foretells the death of the 

 spectator. In order, therefore, to 

 avert so sad an omen, they kill 

 the bird and destroy its eggs on 

 ever} 7 " opportunity. 



The chief reason for this ab- 

 surd practice is, that the Wheatear 

 is in the habit of frequenting any 

 locality where it can find shelter 

 for its eggs and young, and, there- 

 fore, may often be found amid old 

 ruins, in burial-grounds, or cairns. 

 " Though it is a very handsome 

 bird," says Mudie, "and in the 

 early season sings sweetly, its 

 haunts have gotten it a bad name. 

 Its common clear note is not unlike 

 the sound made in breaking stones 



with a hammer ; and as it utters 

 that note from the top of the heap 

 which haply covers the bones of 

 one who perished by the storms 

 or by his own hand ; or from the 

 mound, beneath which there lie 



the slain of a battle-field, magnified through the mist of years ; or from the rude wall 

 that fences in many generations, it is no very unnatural stretch to the pondering fancy, 

 which dwells in these parts, to associate the Wheatear with all the superstitions that 

 unphilosophically, but not irreverently, belong to the place of graves. 



It comes around, too, to meet the traveller, and now running, now flying, seems to 

 pilot him to a place beside the cairn, as if his own bones were soon to be gathered there ; 

 and in that, its note of solemn warning, it is more than usually energetic ; it is seen in 

 the fog too, and, from the contrast of its colours, it is particularly conspicuous even in 

 that. In a highland glen, during a highland mist (which wets but warms you), you hear 

 the Glacheran before you see it ; you meet the Clacheran before you see the cairn ; so 

 you are at perfect liberty to believe that it is busy breaking the stones that are to cover 

 you if you choose. 



.... Beneath that heap of stones there is a little nest, formed of moss, and grass, and 

 completely lined with hair, feathers, or wool, with five or six eggs of a delicate bluish - 



WHEATEAR Saxicola amanthe. 



