192 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
course downwards, there come the village and the hamlet. Still 
further the streamlet becomes a broad brook, flowing through 
meadows in the midst of which stands a solitary farmhouse. 
The house itself, the gardens and orchard are visited by various 
birds and animals. In the fields immediately around—in the 
great hedges and the copse—are numerous others, and an 
expedition is made to the forest. Returning to the farm again 
as a centre, the rookery remains to be examined, and the ways 
and habits of the inhabitants of the hedges. Finally come the fish 
and wildfowl of the brook and lake ;—finishing in the vale. 
If we have one fault to find with the author it is that there is 
too much description in his pages and not enough incident; but 
here and there we find observations of scientific value which 
deserve to be placed on record under an authentic signature. 
We will select one example. Speaking of the Redwing (p. 301), 
the author says :— 
“One spring—it was rapidly verging on summer—I was struck day 
after day by hearing a loud, sweet, but unfamiliar note in a certain field. 
Fancying that most bird-notes were known to me, this new song naturally 
arrested my attention. In a little while I succeeded in traeing it to an oak 
tree. I got under the oak tree, and there on a bough was a Redwing 
singing with all its might. It should be remarked that neither Redwing 
nor Fieldfare sings during the winter; they, of course, have their ‘ call’ and 
ery of alarm, but by no stretch of courtesy could it be called a song. But 
this Redwing was singing—sweet and very loud, far louder than the old 
familiar notes of the Thrush. The note rang out clear and high, and 
somehow sounded strangely unfamiliar amongst English meadows and 
English oaks. Then, looking further and watching about the hedges there, 
I soon found that the bird was not alone—there were three or four pairs of 
Redwings in close neighbourhood, all evidently bent upon remaining to breed. 
To make quite sure, I shot one. Afterwards J found a nest, and had the 
pleasure of seeing the young birds come to maturity and fly. Nothing 
could be more thoroughly opposed to the usual habits of the bird. There may 
be other instances recorded, but what one sees oneself leaves so much deeper 
an impression. The summer that followed was a very fine one.” 
It is instances like this that make one hesitate to dogmatise 
too much as to the why and wherefore of bird-ways. Yet it is 
just the speculation as to that why and wherefore which increases 
the pleasure of observing them. 
