THE RINGDOVE. 359 



in the nest of the ringdove. They soon form a kind of plaster strong 

 and scentless. This adds consistency to the nest, producing, at the 

 same time, a defence against the cold. The ornithologist, while 

 going his autumnal beats, in quest of knowledge, on seeing this, will 

 know immediately that the nest has contained young; should this 

 be wanting, he may conclude that the nest has been abandoned at 

 an early period. As he will find but very few nests with this species 

 of plaster in them, he may conclude, to a certainty, that the ringdove 

 has a host of enemies in this country, and that it is seldom fortunate 

 enough to rear its young to that state in which the faculty of flying 

 saves them from destruction. 



No bird in the British dominions seems to resort to so many trees 

 and shrubs for the purpose of incubation as the ringdove. Not a 

 tree, from the towering pine to the lowly thorn, ever comes amiss 

 to it. There is something, too, peculiarly singular in the locality of 

 some of the nests. While one is seen placed nearly on the topmost 

 branches of the lofty sycamore, another may be found within four 

 feet of the ground, in the humble shelter of the hedge-row bush. 

 Last year I found a ringdove sitting on one egg in a magpie's nest 

 of the year gone by ; and I observed another ringdove rearing two 

 young ones in a spruce fir tree, below that of a magpie, out of which 

 I had taken seven eggs, and substituted five of a jackdaw in their 

 place. It was interesting to see these two species of birds, one so 

 calm and gentle, the other so pert and roguish, thus close to each 

 other at so critical a juncture. While I was observing them, I felt 

 convinced that there are certain times in which birds are not so bent 

 on plunder as we would fain suppose they are ; and, moreover, that 

 they can frequent each other's company in perfect peace and quiet. 

 In this instance it appears that instinct showed the ringdove how to 

 preserve her eggs from being plundered by her crafty neighbour, who, 

 according to our own short-sighted view of ornithological economy, 

 would have been apt to make free with them at the earliest call of 

 hunger. The ringdove had settled there with her eyes open to her 

 supposed danger, for the magpie was the first to get possession of 

 the tree. 



I had but a faint idea of the habits of the ringdove until I had 

 offered it an undisturbed asylum in this " valley free." Its move- 



