THE NATURALIST IN NIDDERDALE. 409 
covered with dark brown stains, blotchings, and markings—darker 
at larger end; still darker lines and streaks at larger end. 
No. 2. Near Lodge, Nidderdale, S.W., 1600 feet, May 22nd.— 
Open grassy moor, nest with three young birds in a tuft of ling 
and bents. Young birds covered with long grey down. 
No. 8. Angram Pasture, Nidderdale, S., 1350 feet, May 23rd.— 
Found a Titlark’s nest with eggs. Instead of being all dark, they 
were dark only at upper end, with usual darker markings and 
stripes. The lower halves were very pale greyish ochre, almost 
white. The bird was distinctly striped down the breast. 
On February 22nd, 1868, I saw an immense flock of Chat- 
finches, which must have numbered some thousands. They were 
in beautiful bright feather, apparently all cocks. A strong west 
wind was blowing, with hail and rain, and they took shelter in the 
low hedges. The place was a steep hillside, two miles east of 
Shipley, Airedale, facing north-west, in the teeth of the wind. 
_ The Redpoll breeds in Nidderdale. On May 19th, 1869, 
I found a nest in an alder bush on the bank of the Nidd (about 
390 feet), just above the weir at Pateley Bridge. The nest was 
in a fork a few feet from the ground, composed externally of roots 
and twigs. Four eggs; small, pale bluish green, spotted and 
streaked at larger end with brown. - 
I noticed the Bullfinch on four occasions only, as follows :— 
November 9, 1870. Hedges near Rasp Wood, three miles 8.W. of 
Bedale, sheltered situation (375 feet); Nov. 29, 1870. Ellington 
Firth, in valley in large wood, sheltered (500 feet); Dec. 6, 1870. 
Roadside hedges between Azerley and Kirkby Malzeard (375 fis) i; 
June 13, 1871. Follifoot Ridge, western exposure, summit of ridge 
(400 feet). . 
The only Crossbills I have ever seen wild stayed for some 
time in the autumn of 1874 at Sandsend, near Whitby. 
Starlings go right up to the Dale Head, but I do not remember 
‘seeing them on the moors. They begin to flock in June, as I ob- 
served near Bewerley, June 17th, and again early in August, 1869. 
In February the Starling sits upon a twig and sings three notes; 
one as if his beak were chattering with cold, another like in sound 
to the Corn Crake’s, but far less loud, and a third like the clucking 
of violin-strings with the finger. It utters also a fourth note—a 
long sweet cadence gradually dying away and descending the ‘scale 
at the same time. 
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