NOTES AND QUERIES. 315 
spring visit of the White Wagtails this season to their usual haunt 
on the island of Bartragh, Killala Bay. Their favourite haunt is a 
damp flat of short coarse pasture situated between the sandhills and 
the shore of the estuary, close to the fruit garden, and a small horse- 
pond outside the paddock-wall is probably the attraction, for it is the 
only water on the island available, except a small spring on the shore 
not frequented by the birds. Captain Kirkwood informed me that on 
April 25th a flock of fifteen or sixteen birds was first observed, which 
remained on the island for three days, until the gale of northerly wind 
that was blowing on their arrival had changed to the south-west, 
when they disappeared, and none were seen afterwards. These birds 
have now been observed regularly visiting Bartragh every season 
since 1898 (with the exception of 1907), and that omission may have 
been caused by the absence of Captain Kirkwood and his man from 
the island at the time of the birds’ visit, which sometimes is only for 
two or three hours, altogether depending on the state of the weather, 
—Ropert WarREN (Ardnaree, Monkstown, Co. Cork). 
Note on Caprimulgus europeus.—In ‘The Zoologist’ for 1911 
(p. 318) I recorded the finding of two young Nightjars on the sand 
near Southwold in July last, and ventured to suggest that the parent 
bird might possibly have moved her eggs and small young. But this 
year I found two nearly fresh eggs on the sand close to the same 
spot, so it would appear that for two years in succession this Night- 
jar made choice of a most unusual breeding-place, the more difficult 
to account for when there is a wood not far away, and an abundance 
of cover afforded by brake within a stone’s throw.—_Junian G. Tuck 
(Tostock Rectory, Bury St. Edmunds). 
Absence of the Cuckoo.—June 17th is the latest date on which 
the Cuckoo was heard in this neighbourhood this year, for I fear we 
have heard it for the last time. Prior to this date Cuckoos were seen 
and heard on every side, sometimes three at once, but since June 
17th the well-known note of this species has been very conspicuous 
by its absence; I have made inquiries amongst the country-folk, and 
they ‘‘ have not heard the Cuckoo for some time.’’ I ramble over 
field and fallow every day, and not only have I failed to hear a 
Cuckoo, but I have not seen one; I followed a bird some distance on 
July 4th, but it turned out to be a Kestrel. Towards the end of June 
I expect to hear less of its notes, also the faulty call, with two or 
three ‘‘cucks”’ to one “coo,” but not its entire absence from us. A 
partial migration undoubtedly took place here from the middle to the 
