388 Unexplored Spain 
canes and lined with sticks, heather-stalks, and palmetto. One 
had four eggs, hard-sat ; the other, two eggs, chipping, and two 
small young in white down, with savage black eyes. The 
harriers’ eggs are usually dull white; in one nest found this year, 
however, the eggs were spotted with pale red—apparently blood- 
stains. Hard by were two nests of the purple water-hen, both of 
which had obviously been recently robbed by the harriers next 
door. 
These curious birds climb the tall green reeds parrot-wise, 
grasping four or five at once in their long, supple, heavily clawed 
toes; then with their powerful red beaks neatly cut down the: 
reeds a yard or more above water, in order to feed on the tender 
pith. Here and there float masses of these cut-down reeds, split 
and emptied—comederos, the natives call such spots. But the 
birds are silly enough to cut down the very reeds that surround 
their nests—thus exposing the huge piled-up structures to the 
gaze of their truculent neighbour, the egg-loving marsh-harrier. 
Instinct badly at fault here. 
With a degree more intelligence, the purple water-hens might 
at least retaliate, by watching their opportunity and mopping-up 
the harriers’ young. They are amply equipped for such work, 
having great pincer-like beaks fit to cut barbed wire! 
On the other hand, the great purple water-hens habitually doa 
bit robbery and murder on their own account, plundering the nests 
both of ducks and coots and devouring eggs or young alike. We 
shot one whose beak was smeared all over with yolk from a 
plundered duck’s nest hard by, and alongside the nest of a 
Porphyrio with five eggs (found May 1) lay floating the head- 
less corpses of two young coots. We have also observed similar 
phenomena alongside the nests of the coots themselves— doubtless 
attributable to the same cause. The eggs of the purple water-hen 
are lovely objects, ruddier and much more richly coloured than 
those of any of its congeners. These birds remain in the marismas 
all winter. 
In the densest brake bred purple herons, but this part proved 
quite impenetrable to canoes. A few days later, however, at’ the 
Retuerta, we reached a little colony of three nests. A beautiful 
sight they presented, broad platforms of criss-crossed canes, 
cleverly supported on tall bamboos, and lined with the flowering 
tops of carrizos (canes). These three nests were close together 
