NOCTURNAL HABITS OF THE REDWING. 363 



not view this as a mere quibble of criticism on my part ; really 

 it is a necessary discussion of the subject.) The birds are also 

 described as being in one continuous flock, and here again there 

 is a strong probability that a mistake has been made. "When 

 we hear a succession of separate calls we are more likely to 

 attribute them to a passing flock than to a single bird flying 

 around one's head. For instance, on the night of Nov. 4th, 

 1909, in the heart of London, I heard the call repeated hundreds 

 of times. At 10, when I noticed the first one, the sky was 

 cloudy, with little or no wind ; at 11.15 a slight rift appeared in 

 the south-east, and by 12.30 the sky was entirely clear. There 

 was three-quarters of a moon, rising about 8.30. From 10.15 to 

 midnight there was a constant succession of calls, sometimes 

 with five-seconds intervals, occasionally a minute or even more 

 apart. The birds were evidently low down, and some were 

 certainly within fifty feet of my ears, and it was very strange 

 to stand in what is perhaps the busiest street in England and 

 listen to the mysterious birds piping above the heads of the 

 oblivious crowd below. Yet it was not easy to imagine that 

 big flocks were passing, for the cries were always separate, and I 

 did not hear one except after an interval of some seconds. 

 When a flock of birds passes us in daylight, or even by night 

 (Terns or Curlews on migration, for instance), their voices come 

 in bursts or gusts ; but, although I have heard the nocturnal 

 call of the Eedwing thousands of times, I cannot recollect a 

 single occasion on which the birds were calling in unison. 



My personal observations on the Eedwing by night have 

 been made in many parts of Great Britain, from Fifeshire to 

 Kent, and from Norfolk to Anglesea, and my knowledge has 

 been enriched by the notes contributed by many of my friends. 

 Perhaps there are parts of the country where the bird is never 

 known, and a knowledge of these localities might be useful. I 

 have heard them constantly over the largest towns : one cannot 

 stand for long in a quiet London street after dark on a close 

 October or November night without hearing the ear-piercing 

 note. We cannot be sure that lights attract them, for I have 

 frequently noticed the voice of the bird over miles-wide Pennine 

 moorlands or bare Welsh hills far from any house. This has 

 been my experience when I have walked out over a wide stretch 



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