OBNITHOLOGICAL NOTES FROM THE RHINE. 63 



favourably with his own. It sings cheerily and industriously 

 from dawn to dark, often commencing, in fact, some time before 

 daybreak. I have heard it at 3.15 a.m. In the Botanic Garden 

 the label-stands formed a favourite perch, and were also much 

 resorted to by Spotted Flycatchers. On May 23rd a pair of 

 Black Redstarts were leading fledglings about the shrubbery with 

 twittered encouragement and anxious scolding at the intruder. 

 So late as July 9th a noisy brood emerged from behind the rain- 

 water pipe on the Schloss. On Aug. Gth I noticed that the males 

 were coming into song again after scarcely three weeks of silence, 

 and from that time onwards they sang constantly till I left on 

 Sept. 11th. 



On March 18th, with warm southerly wind, came a "rush" of 

 Chiffchaffs, and there was undoubtedly a large arrival of Robins 

 about this date. In the woods they were to be heard at every 

 turn, while in winter scarcely one was to be seen. Wood Larks 

 began to sing about the open heath-land on the edge of the forest. 

 On the 20th hybernating butterflies, such as Brimstones and 

 Camberwell Beauties (Vanessa antiopa) were flying. Wood- 

 peckers were jubilant, and amatory Jays vented their feelings in a 

 variety of uncouth notes. Two days later Stonechats returned, 

 and on March 24th the first Blackcap reached the Botanic 

 Garden ; colder weather set in, and there was no further arrival 

 of this species for ten days. 



A party of Lesser Redpolls on April 1st, and Redwings a 

 week later, were no doubt working northward. I heard the 

 Willow Wren on the 9th, and the next day the first Swallows 

 were skimming over the Rhine at Konigswinter. I found the 

 Grey Wagtail in pairs frequenting the streams of the Seven 

 Mountains and at Rolandseck, and noted Waterhens and Dab- 

 chicks haunting the reedy pool at Heisterbach Abbey. April 14th 

 was noteworthy for the arrival of the Serins. I scarcely expected 

 to meet with this species so far north ; possibly it is extending 

 its range. In a few days its artless jingle of a song, more 

 suggestive of a Bunting than a Finch, was to be heard everywhere 

 in suburban gardens. In the Botanic Garden I had full oppor- 

 tunity of watching its fussy and energetic ways. Its usual call- 

 note is a sibilant trill. At pairing-time the males have a wavering 

 flight, like that of a Sand Martin, and often sing upon the wing. 



