THE BIRDS OF THE MOY ESTUARY. 235 
been devoured by its fellows. A pair of Sparrowhawks build every 
year in the plantations about Moyview, and invariably construct a 
fresh nest each season, neither repairing their old nests nor those 
of Magpies or other birds, and I remarked the same habit with the 
Sparrowhawks building in the finely timbered demesnes of Coolmore 
and Ballybricken, in the County Cork. Those nests that I dis- 
covered before the females began to sit had a well-formed cup- 
shaped cavity in the centre, with nicely rounded edges; but after the 
young were hatched the edges got flattened out, and by the time they 
were fledged the nest had become a loose, slovenly-looking platform, 
exactly like the ruins of an old deserted nest of Crow or Magpie. 
Buzzard, Buteo vulgaris.—Rare in this district, and has only 
twice come under my notice, at Moyview, flying about the planta- 
tions. During the past winter, however, I saw a fine bird of this 
species on the sands near Bartragh, and again on the Enniscrone 
sand-hills, beating about over the rabbit-burrows. This bird I have 
every reason to think must have been the one that was afterwards 
killed by some boys at night in a plantation at Scurmore; as they 
were bird-catching with a light they met the bird roosting on a low 
tree, and fancied it was a young Eagle. 
Marsh Harrier, Circus eruginosus.—I cannot with certainty say 
I have met with this bird, but when snipe-shooting I have occa- 
sionally seen birds which may have been of this species. 
Hen Harrier, Circus cyaneus.—Rare in this part of the country. 
I have only seen one old male. It is known to sportsmen about 
here as the “ Sea-gull Hawk,” from its colour. 
Long-eared Owl, Strix otus.—Common and resident in the 
wooded districts. A pair rear their young in some old deserted 
nest (generally a Magpie’s) in the plantations here every season, 
and I have on several occasions sent young birds to the Dublin 
Zoological Gardens. During the breeding season the males may 
be heard nearly every evening amongst the trees uttering their 
very peculiar call-notes, which, when heard at night proceeding 
from gloomy woods, gives one the idea of some unfortunate person 
moaning in the extremity of distress. It may be imitated by the 
words “ hoo—hoo—hoo” repeated very slowly; the h quite soft— 
almost a silent one. My attention was first directed to this 
moaning call of the owls in January, 1864, by some of the servants 
rushing into the sitting-room one evening, about eight o’clock, to 
say that some one was dying in the wood near the cattle-house, 
