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Oil Birds by an Irish Stream in Winter.



our way an old flax mill now peopled only by Jackdaws, and in

the trees round about we notice several Rooks. Soon after my

friend notices some Redpolls and, away to the left, I spot some

Ivy-covered trees which might contain an Owl, so we cut across

the fields, but draw a blank. As we return I put up a Snipe

from a marshy place, and shortly afterwards a great Grey Heron

flaps slowly over our heads.


We now make straight for Rough Neagh, passing on the

wa}*- numbers of Blackbirds, Thrushes, House Sparrows and

Chaffinches, in a few minutes arriving at the edge of the great

inland sea that has been more or less shrouded in mystery from

the days when Thomas Moore wrote—


“ On Lough Neagh’s banks as the fisherman strays

When the clear cool eve’s declining,


He sees the round towers of other days

In the waves beneath him shining.”


Recently there have been discussions in the daily papers

about the strange booming heard by the farmers round the

Ipugh, as if great guns were practising, and nobody seems to

be able to explain it, altho’ the same thing has been heard on

some large American lakes.


But to return to our birds—soon after we reach the edge

we come on some Meadow and Rock Pipits who alight quite close

and do not seem to mind us in the least. Now we enter a thick

Willow bed. What are the brightly coloured birds I see flying

out at the other side ? We follow as noiselessly as possible and

soon come on a flock of Bullfinches, all the males in splendid

colour. It is a strange thing why a Bullfinch should lose its

beautiful colouring so much more than any other cage bird ;

those I have seen kept in small cages, after a time changed to a

dull brown tint and, but for their shape, one could hardly have

told what they were. I have often wondered why this is so when

small foreign birds of the parrot and finch tribe keep their

brilliant colouring so well.


We now near the river again. This is a great place for

bird life, and I note tracks of many waders in the soft mud at

the river’s mouth. Out to sea is a large flock of Ducks, some

sleeping and others keeping watch. One does not often catch a



