132 ON THE INSTINCTS OF BIRDS. 
that the iron ring which confined the spring had not 
been withdrawn. The ring was then removed, and 
on visiting the nest afterwards the female was found 
caught by the feet. This change of character, in so 
watchful and quick-sighted a bird as the Buzzard, is 
certainly very surprising, and must baffle every at- 
tempt to connect it with any intellectual process. 
A highly interesting anecdote, illustrative of the 
attachment of the Raven to its eggs, is thus admirably 
related by Mr. White* :—“ In the centre of a grove 
there stood an oak, which, though shapely and tall on 
the whole, bulged out into a large excrescence about 
the middle of the stem. On this a pair of Ravens 
had fixed their residence for such a series of years 
that the oak was distinguished by the title of the 
Raven tree. Many were the attempts of the neigh- 
bouring youths to get at this eyry: the difficulty 
whetted their inclinations, and each was ambitious 
of surmounting the arduous task. But when they 
arrived at the swelling it jutted out so in their way, 
and was so far beyond their grasp, that the most 
daring lads were awed, and acknowledged the under- 
taking to be too hazardous. So the Ravens built on, 
nest upon nest, in perfect security, till the fatal day 
arrived on which the tree was to be levelled. It was 
in the month of February, when those birds usually 
sit. The saw was applied to the but, the wedges 
were inserted into the opening, the woods echoed to 
* «Natural History of Selborne,’ p, 6. 
