254 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



a tree ; unusual for a bird so associated with barren heaths and 

 Babbit-warrens. The number of wild species I have myself 

 identified in the grounds is seventy-two, but several of these are 

 solitary instances, such as Pied Flycatcher, Peregrine Falcon, 

 Turtle-Dove, Woodcock, Cormorant, Pting- Ouzel, Wheatear, and 

 Eed-backed Shrike. The rookery here is a very ancient affair. The 

 Books commence to repair their nests in February, which through 

 the winter months have been used by Tits and other small birds 

 to roost in. I could relate plenty of stories about their pecu- 

 liarities, but will confine myself to two. In February, 1901, we 

 started hockey for the first time on the cricket-ground. The 

 large elms overshadowing the ground contained the usual Books' 

 nests ; but the busy occupants failed to appreciate this in- 

 novation, and moved all their nests bodily across the railway 

 to the other side of the grounds. The Books (with other birds) 

 are fed every morning on the "Cedars" lawn. One Sunday 

 this was forgotten, and I saw a small detachment of the boldest 

 spirits march up to the drawing-room window and commence 

 tapping. A sort of gentle reminder ! With them I often see, 

 and still oftener hear, a pair of Carrion-Crows. 



A Bing-Ouzel was picked up by my youngest daughter in the 

 camellia-house, half-choked by a berry. This was extracted, and 

 the bird lived some time in a Pheasant aviary, but finally died in 

 a fit. It was no doubt attracted by the " Cedars " grounds on its 

 autumn migration. A Hawfinch I picked up dead on a West 

 Lodge* path ; these birds visit us every March, and feed on the 

 holly-berries, but I have never noticed their nest. There is occa- 

 sionally a stray Pheasant or two on the grounds, and last year 

 a Partridge hatched off her clutch and reared the brood, not- 

 withstanding the assiduous attentions of a Kestrel-Hawk, that 

 fortunately gave itself away by screaming. 



The Owls are a great institution here, and I love to hear 

 them. In June and July the young Brown Owls seem to call for 

 food all night — a quick "too-whit." The old birds give a very 

 loud drawn-out whistle, on a descending scale, followed by the 

 same note in tremolo, like a child in distress ; our watchman 

 sometimes sees them dive into the ivy after the roosting Sparrows, 

 which swarm here. I have often counted over one hundred and 

 fifty on a fence by the West Lodge field. The Barn-Owls love 

 * A house built inside the grounds. 



