316 chapman's bird-life of the borders. 



Stock Doves also arrive, and the close of the month brings the 

 Wheatear, Ring-Ousel, Redshank, and Brown-headed Gull. Also 

 then, or early in April, the ' Plover's-mate '• — the familiar little Dunlin 

 of the sea-shore. 



In April the Blackcock commences that strange love-song, 

 ' crooning,' ' bubbling,' and ' sneezing,' his wings trailing, neck 

 swollen, and tail expanded, surrounded by his harem of some half- 

 dozen Greyhens, careless and inattentive to their lord's extraordinary 

 demonstrations. April 20th is the date when the graceful little 

 Sandpiper is due on the hill-streams ; and from the middle of April 

 to the middle of May, the Chats and Willow Wrens, Landrail and 

 Nightjars, have reached their summer quarters, and the last of the 

 spring migrants has come in. 



In the pleasant months of Summer, during the heat of the day, 

 birds in the hill country appear to haunt the vicinity of water, and 

 the ornithologist cannot do better than, fly-rod in hand, wander up 

 one of those many streams which make Cheviot literally a land of 

 running waters. We have in this way noted seventeen species in 

 a walk of a few miles, more or less characteristic birds of the hills. 

 Perhaps the most constant attendant on the angler is the Dipper. 

 Unquiet as the stream he haunts, now crouched on some half 

 submerged block of whinstone, then darting ahead as quickly to 

 alight, his white apron flashing like a patch of creamy foam, but he 

 is never to be driven far beyond his range, and soon we see him 

 shooting back to his own particular territory. Nowhere too, have 

 we found the Common Sandpiper more abundant than on Cheviot 

 streams, and the plaintive wheet, wheet, of the lively little bird is 

 certainly the most familiar of the sounds which greet the ear above 

 the tumble and rush of foam-specked waters. Should we leave the 

 main stream to wander up any of the tributary burns we are tolerably 

 certain to disturb a squatting brood of Wild Duck, or raise the 

 startled black game from the brake. 



Yet not altogether intent on the bird-life of the hills, we ought, 

 if lucky, to be filling the basket with some of the bonniest, most 

 sport-giving trout in all England. If tired of fishing we, for a time, 

 lay aside gad and creel to climb the nearest fell, first waist-deep in 

 acres of bracken, and then over stone-strewed slopes where wild 

 thyme and mountain-pansy push through the short sweet grass, we 

 shall come out on the higher level into a world of great hill-tops — 

 lonely as a dead planet, and swept by the shadows of fleeting cloud. 

 Indications of bird-life are few in this upland wilderness. The 

 chack, chack of a flitting Wheatear, or the feeble trill of the ' moss- 

 cheeper' — far-off wheeple of the Whaups, the plaint of Golden 



Naturalist, 



