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NOTES ON THE NESTING OF TRINGA ALPINA. 



By Alfred Jackson. 



On the Lancashire side of the Mersey, to the south-west of 

 Warrington, lies a strip of marsh, so low that the high tides of 

 winter often flood a great portion of it to a depth of over two 

 feet. Upon a piece of slightly rising ground amid such a damp 

 situation I have for the past three years found Dunlins nesting, 

 but it was not till 1904 that I knew the nest of four eggs, dis- 

 covered the previous year, belonged to that species. 



On May 22nd, 1904, while patiently watching a pair of Bed- 

 shanks that had a nest somewhere near, I heard a series of 

 unfamiliar low notes — " wote, wote, wote, wote, wote " — and was 

 quick enough to see a male Dunlin, in full summer plumage, 

 alight. As the notes were repeated, I saw plainly, from the 

 movements of his mandibles, that they came from the Dunlin. 

 Presently he got up, flew in a perfect circle round me, while I, 

 fearing to lose sight of him, watched closely, and was pleased to 

 see him alight again not far from where he started. This flight 

 around me (low over the grass) was repeated no fewer than seven 

 times — evidently intended to entice me away — each time the bird 

 alighting near the one particular spot where I began to suspect 

 a nest. All the time, either flying or resting, he gave utterance 

 at intervals to the low note, while his circular flight was never 

 more than twenty yards from me. Twice he sprang up imme- 

 diately after alighting, dropping down again near a clump of 

 grass ten yards away, the second time disappearing into it. I 

 had almost expected this, and, treading softly towards the spot, 

 he rose out of the long grass at my feet, where I was delighted 

 to find two newly-hatched young and two eggs. The two eggs 

 were fertile, for I heard, on placing them to my ear, the chirping 

 of the chicks inside, and their tapping the sides of the shells. 

 The parent, on leaving the nest, flew low and rather awkwardly 

 in getting away. The nest — just a hay-lined hollow — was little 



