CO THE ZOOLOGIST. 



wood. The next morning I found in the same place a numerous 

 party of Great Titmice, Cole Tits, Goldcrests, and Tree Creepers, 

 hunting together on the best of terms. No Marsh Tits were in 

 the party, for they hardly reach this elevation ; but the van was 

 led by six or seven Crested Tits. The last-named were timid ; 

 again and again they disappointed me by fltiting away nervously 

 to tall trees, where they could hardly be discerned ; but as I 

 followed the party continuously through bog and brushwood, they 

 gradually became accustomed to me, and even descended to terra 

 tinna, quite close to me. The quiet gray wings give the Crested 

 Tit a sombre appearance when flying ; on close inspection, the 

 delicate crest, jet black throat, and pinkish under-parts render 

 this titmouse highly pleasing. Although I possess a good ear for 

 the notes of birds, I have as yet acquired no facility for putting 

 their cries into words ; once, the call of a Crested Tit very close 

 to me on the Alpenrose road, reminded me much of Pants nter. 

 On other occasions, I thought that the sy liable " chrrit," or 

 " prrit," repeated briskly, bore some resemblance to the note. I 

 only heard the liquid "Tittle song uttered twice, when one indi- 

 vidual pursued another. Pieus major and Loxia enrcirostra are 

 the most interesting birds I find in my list of general residents. 

 Twice I saw, as I believed, Dryocopus martins, but from the 

 distance could not feel quite certain. It was well known to my 

 coiffeur, the keenest chasseur in the village. Hawks were fairly 

 numerous. Two old birds, often to be seen with two young ones, 

 were apparently Goshawks, of which also we saw several stuffed 

 specimens. As we awaited a Thun steamer on the 8th, a very 

 large brown hawk, ostensibly an Osprey, descended upon some 

 prey in the lake ; when he rose, he flew with wild cries into the 

 woods on the Jungfrau side of Interlaken. At Bern, on Septem- 

 ber 9th, the Black Bedstart was once more in full song. On 

 September 11th, I failed to identify, in the rain, two birds in the 

 Villeneuve or Rhone marshes. Early on the 12th, a " reeling" 

 sound in the same locality brought to mind a passage in 

 Mr. Harting's ' Summer Migrants.' Following up, I was soon 

 vis-a-vis with a small reed bird of some species. The breast and 

 under parts were pale buff or white ; upper parts, brown. From 

 the note it might be the Grasshopper Warbler. Ten minutes, 

 perhaps later, on this auspicious morning, a loud, clear " cluck " 

 introduced the Aquatic Warbler, which ran up to the top a 



