674 Birds. 



abundance of snails, slugs, and beetles on the ground, I released them from their long 

 confinement. 



"Just oppoite to the flower-garden, there is a dense plantation of spruce fir-trees. 

 Under these, at intervals, by way of greater security, I placed the separated parts of 

 two dozen newly killed rabbits, as a temporary supply of food ; and at 7 o'clock in the 

 evening, the weather being serene and warm, I opened the door of the cage. The five 

 owls stepped out to try their fortunes in this wicked world. As they retired into the 

 adjacent thicket, I bade them be of good heart ; and although the whole world was 

 now open to them, ' where to choose their place of residence,' I said, if they would stop 

 in my park, I would be glad of their company ; and would always be a friend and 

 benefactor to them." — p. 15. 



The dying Sivan. 



" Once I had an opportunity, which rarely occurs, of being with a swan in its last 

 illness. Although I gave no credence to the extravagant notion which antiquity had 

 entertained of melody from the mouth of the dying swan, still I felt anxious to hear 

 some plaintive sound or other, some soft inflection of the voice, which might tend to 

 justify that notion in a small degree. But I was disappointed. 



" This poor swan was a great favourite, and had been the pride of the lake time out 

 of mind. Those who spend their life in the country, and pay attention to the ordinary 

 movements of birds, will easily observe a change in them, whenever their health is on 

 the decline. I perceived that the plumage of this swan put on a weather-beaten ap- 

 pearance, and that the bird itself no longer raised the feathers of his wings, as he pass- 

 ed through the water before me. Judging that he was unwell, I gave orders that he 

 should be supplied with bread and boiled potatoes. Of these he ate sparingly, and in 

 a day or two he changed his quarters, probably for want of sufficient shelter from the 

 wind. Having found his way down to the stables, he got upon a small fishpond there, 

 out of the reach of storms. From this time he never fended for food, but he continued 

 to take a little white bread now and then from my hand. At last he refused this ; and 

 then he left the water for good and all, and sat down on the margin of the pond, with 

 evident signs of near-approaching death. He soon became too weak to support his 

 long neck in an upright position. He nodded, and then tried to recover himself, and 

 then nodded again, and again held up his head ; till at last, quite enfeebled and worn 

 out, his head fell gently on the grass, his wings became expanded a trifle or so, and 

 he died whilst I was looking on. This was in the afternoon, and I had every facility 

 of watching his departing hour, for I was attending the masons, some thirty yards from 

 the pond to which the swan had retired. He never even uttered his wonted cry, nor 

 so much as a sound, to indicate what he felt within." — p. 128. 



" The Windhover Hawk and the Oil-gland. 



" On my return from Belgium, in the middle of May, 1844, whilst perusing the 

 seventeenth number of ' The Zoologist,' my attention was particularly drawn to the 

 excellent observations of Mr. Bury, relative to the habits of the kestril, or windhover 

 hawk. I feel myself under great obligations to this courteous gentleman for the flat- 

 tering manner in which he has introduced my name. May I entertain the hope that 

 he will not be offended with me, if I venture to disagree with him on one point rela- 

 tive to what he has advanced on the habits of the bird in question ? 



