12 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
meadow you find the “eddish” grey with the fallen gossamer, 
each slender thread of which is strung with pearl-like globules of 
clear water, through which the dark green tracks of the hares are 
as readily to be seen as in new-fallen snow. Along the lee side 
of the fence early frosts and winds of the equinox have laid down, 
for several yards in width, a brightly variegated carpet, and as 
the dead leaves rustle under the horse’s feet, the Blackbirds take 
alarm. You may have ridden down that hedgerow on the previous 
morning without seeing any, but hundreds have come across 
during the night, and you can hear their “ quilp, quilp” and 
the winnow of wings as they fly out, mostly on the offside of the 
shelter. Before you have ridden far probably a hundred or two 
have been disturbed; every yard of the hedge appears to contain 
them. Many flit for short distances and enter the hedge, again 
to fly out and repeat the same process, so that when you near the 
termination of the hedgerow they go out by the dozen, like 
Pheasants from a hot corner in a preserve. Some skulk round 
the corner into the cross fence, whilst the more adventurous 
cut off the angle of the meadow. Many never attempt to fly out, 
but trust to the depth and thickness of the bullock fence. On 
horseback you may look into the black, bead-like eyes of the bird 
as he sits perfectly motionless at the distance of a few feet. Four- 
fifths of the Blackbirds you will find are young cocks. If 
especially fortunate you may see a Ring Ouzel, or at least hear its 
alarm note—a note at once distinguishable to a good ear from the 
Blackbird’s, but not easy to render on paper.* 
Like all the rest of their kind, these immigrant Blackbirds are 
sreat skulkers; never more so than for a few hours after they 
have come in, for they are then tired and reluctant to move. 
Were they Redwings we should see them perched on the 
outer branches, conspicuous by their light eye-streak and the 
dash of orange-red below the wing. Fieldfares, too, on such a 
morning would crowd the highest twigs, and long before seeing 
them we should hear their harsh but welcome chatter. On other 
mornings none of these birds could be found, but instead flocks of 
* On November 29th, when crossing the high wolds, I rode for some distance 
along a hedgerow bordering one side of a large sheep-walk, disturbing numbers of 
Blackbirds and Redwings feeding on the haws. They flew out just as I have 
described, entering again the fence at short intervals. At the termination of this 
hedgerow the Blackbirds went out by dozens into some ash trees. Every one of 
these Blackbirds was, I believe, a cock. 
