432 
MR. J. H. GURNEY ON THE BEARDED TITMOUSE. 
there are two paragraphs suggestive of migration : — “ A Bearded 
Reedling was seen at the Landguard Lighthouse [on the coast of 
Suffolk, on February 10th, 1887] at 7.40 a.in.”— and again from 
Yarmouth, on November 13th : “nice lot of Bearded Tits are said 
to have come in at a great height, and from the east,” but the 
correspondent’s name is not given (probably Mr. G. Smith). As 
further evidence of its migratory nature two have been taken in 
Cornwall, and it is said to have been seen in Pembrokeshire 
(Mathew). 
In its nest and all that concerns the Bearded Tit, a protective 
colour may be traced. The old cock’s black moustaches (which 
are not double as erroneously represented in Yarrell B. B.) are like 
the dark corners in the reeds, and his tawny colouring harmonises 
with the brown tints of autumn. Nowhere is the harmony of 
nature better seen than in the blending colours of the birds, insects, 
and flowers of Norfolk Broads, where every thing seems made to suit 
its surroundings. Push your boat into the reeds and lie still, and 
then a more beautiful object than a cock Bearded Tit, clinging tail 
uppermost to a tall reed stem, gently waving in the wind, it is 
difficult to imagine. Except in the vicinity of their nests, or when 
curiosity gets the better of them, they are decidedly shy, and 
inclined to hide low, but by their nests they are better to be 
seen, as they flit restlessly across one mown open space after 
another, and sometimes in their anxiety for their eggs, betray their 
whereabouts. They become more unsuspecting when they have 
young, their care for whom causes them to defy danger and go 
straight to the very nest in the presence of spectators, — yet they 
have instinct enough to creep to it, rather than to fly. If there is 
the least wind, the ‘ Peed Pheasants,’ as they are called by the 
natives, are not very likely to show themselves, for strange to 
say what will wave the tops of the reeds will keep them at 
the bottom. I have been surprised when walking with an old 
marshman, an experienced “ egger,” to notice how often he heard 
their note when neither of us could see the bird, long experience 
in looking for them having sharpened his ear ; but it is not loud at 
any time, though described by some persons as shrill, and by 
Stevenson as ringing and silvery. Indeed, Lord Lilford, who was 
fond of the Norfolk Broads, says its note once heard can never be 
mistaken for that of any other European bird by a good ear, which 
