MIGRATION OF BIRDS ON THE N.E. COAST. 9 
It is rarely, if ever, that sea birds strike the glasses; they are 
perhaps too much accustomed to see the lights, and we find, as a 
rule, that they migrate far out at sea. Shore birds, again, do not so 
frequently come to grief as the true land birds; they are accustomed 
to the shore and the neighbourhood of lighthouses, and are also 
partly crepuscular in their habits. In nine out of ten cases it is the 
true land bird that suffers from these collisions—such as under nor- 
mal circumstances go to roost at a reasonable and early hour, and are 
on the wing again at the first flush of dawn; they are unaccustomed 
to the darkness, more apt to be bewildered by late hours and the 
glare of lamps, and have little experience of night travelling, for 
the dark night migration takes place but once a year. 
Eagle.—An Eagle, probably Halicetus albicilla, was seen during 
the third week in November about the coast near Seaton Carew, 
Durham: it succeeded in avoiding the attentions of the numerous 
coast gunners, and finally took its leave after a few days’ sojourn 
in the neighbourhood. 
Osprey.—Mr. Richardson, of Beverley, informs me that he 
has received for preservation a male Osprey, apparently a bird 
of the second year. It was shot on the 23rd of November, at 
Cherry Burton, near Beverley. Mr. Adrian, of Lincoln, told me of 
another obtained this autumn in South Lincolnshire, but I neglected 
at the time to make a note of the date and locality. 
Peregrine Falcon.—Mr. Bailey, of Flamborough, has recently 
seen three or four about the headland. Flamborough Head appears 
to be a very favourite locality for this species. 
Short-eared Owl.—These birds arrived on the night of the 23rd 
October; at least, I first found them on the morning of the 24th, 
crouched amid patches of rough sea-grass on the embankment, as 
well as further inland on drain-sides and amidst rough grass in 
pastures. In the latter places they are comparatively safe. Un- 
fortunately those alighting on the coast are almost invariably potted 
by the first loafer who at break of day, with rusty fowling-piece 
and villainous cur at heel, strolls along the sea embankment; for 
the poor soft-winged slow-flying Owl offers an easy mark, and will 
sit till nearly trodden upon. This autumn unprecedented numbers 
came, and I have heard of them in many localities on this coast. 
It is astonishing any are left to migrate, considering the number, 
year after year, wantonly and cruelly destroyed on their first arrival, 
as well as the many which figure afterwards amongst the “sundries” 
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