HA RD WICKE'S. SCIENCE- G OS SIP. 



59 



into these nests by climbing to the hill-top. With 

 this purpose I ascend the slope, and as soon as I 

 have reached the summit, the herons that are soaring 

 overhead begin to call loudly, yank yank. I lie 

 down under a low tree, and confine my attention to 

 one of them. Now it is alone ; it passes over, high 

 in the air, and it passes back again ; down it comes 

 a short distance, and passes and repasses as before. 

 As it thus gradually descends, and limits the circuit 

 of its flight, it brings its legs more and more near the 

 perpendicular, till it suddenly plumps on to the 

 branch on which its nest is. Then cautiously it steps 

 over to the nest, and standing on the edge of it, with 

 neck erect, it peers about enquiring for the intruder ; 

 being satisfied that he is gone, it sits down with its 

 head turned towards the direction in which it saw its 

 enemy disappear. I crawl back to be out of its 

 sight for a while, then lift myself up slowly. But 

 Mrs. Heron is too wide awake for me : she has seen 

 my hat before I have seen her, aud is already 

 standing on her nest ; and now, stretching her neck 

 and pushing with her feet against the nest, she rises 

 once more into the air. 



I now leave the heronry, and go out along a 

 promontory at this part of the shore. As I look 

 back from this position on the heronry, I see a single 

 bird stationary on a thin branch near the top of one 

 of the tall trees. He does not sit with his head close 

 to his body, as a heron that has settled clown by a 

 burn-side to rest during the day would do, but he 

 sits with his neck stretched to its utmost, ready to 

 perceive the slightest indication of danger, and on 

 my making again for the heronry woods, this sentinel 

 heron flies away. 



As I continue my walk, the herons keep up their 

 cries, and the pheasants strive to equal, if not to 

 outdo them. Eight shell-duck and six mallard are 

 swimming about in the bay, several cormorants are 

 seated a short distance out from land, and curlews 

 close in shore are giving warning to all who care to 

 heed that danger is at hand. The cushats are flying 

 in considerable numbers to the heronry wood, and 

 the rooks are making a hideous uproar in the rookery 

 further on. 



Leaving the herons behind, we now cross an open 

 field, and as we walk rather carelessly, are abruptly 

 reminded of our business by hearing a loud squealing 

 at the edge of a small plantation in advance of us. 

 There goes a blackbird, he it is that is squealing ; 

 and there goes the cause of it, that light-coloured 

 bird of which I caught a glimpse as he dashed along 

 within the hedge that borders the plantation. Twice 

 or thrice I see him momentarily, but no distinct view 

 can I get of him. Though I cannot make him out 

 properly, I know well that he is some bird of prey, 

 as all the small birds in the plantation are joining 

 with the blackbird in the scream. 



Along the inner edge of the plantation we now 

 take our way, and, after halting a short time to 



examine the ruins of Dalgety Church, within whose 

 ivy-clad walls is an excellently- preserved stone of 

 date 1540, we enter the wood where the rooks dwell, 

 and of which we had timely warning by their cries. 

 We need not linger here, however, but walk on over 

 the long stretch of smooth lawn, raised somewhat 

 above the level of the beach to be beyond the force 

 of the waves, and at its end we come on a pool of 

 water. The very place for a w 7 ater-hen, we at once 

 conclude ; let us look — there goes one scudding 

 along the surface, and splashes into the water at the 

 opposite side ; and there too is the last year's nest at 

 the end of that branch overhanging the water. As I 

 still stand here, a missel-thrush makes known his 

 presence not far from me, and I look up to see a pair 

 capering amongst the trees. 



We are now at the corner of the bay, and as we 

 advance, we rouse many curlews, ducks, and red- 

 shanks. But the clock at Donibristle stables pointing 

 to 2.25 p.m., bids us proceed rather faster than we 

 have been doing, and after reaching St. David's, we 

 cut inland to join the Aberdour Road, and reach 

 Burntisland in time for the last ferry-boat. 



Robert Godfrey. 



NOTES ON NECTARIES. 

 No. II. 



By M.D. (Hawkshead, Ambleside). 

 Staminal Nectaries. 



MANY nectaries are in direct connection with 

 the stamens. In Penstemon (Fig. 54), so 

 named from its curious fifth stamen, one pair of 

 stamens is adherent to the corolla tube and the other 

 pair is free on each side of the ovary. The honey is 

 secreted on the outer side of the dilated filament, the 

 nectary being a green protuberance with a granulated 

 surface, :and from it the abundant honey wells up 

 into the tube of the flower. In the Cruciferfe the 

 nectaries are sometimes associated with the stamens, 

 and sometimes with the disk ; for the former see 

 Arabis (Fig. 22) and Radish (Fig. 34) ; in each of 

 these flowers the nectaries belong to the short 

 stamens. In the drawing of Radish the short stamen 

 is removed, in order to show the nectary with its drop 

 of honey, which stands behind it ; no hollowed sepal 

 is needed, because the drop of nectar is kept in place 

 by the adjacent filaments. In herb Robert (Fig. 44) 

 a protuberance at the bases of the five outer filaments 

 secretes honey which is received in the hollowed 

 sepals. Lychnis dioica (Fig. 45) affords an interest- 

 ing example of staminal nectaries. In the male 

 flower there are five long stamens and five short. 

 The long stamens have each a honey gland at the 

 base on their inner faces, and the honey collects in 

 the hollow above the abortive ovary. This, it should 

 be remembered, is at the base of a tube formed by 



