APPENDIX. 
475 
Illiterate people, both in England and Ireland, unable to under- 
stand the subject of migration, account for the disappearance of the 
cuckoo by imagining that it is “ turned into a hawk” in winter ; and 
some of all classes, knowing the slow and slovenly flight of the land- 
rail ( Radius crex), cannot believe that it has sufficient power of wing to 
migrate far. But in the spring it proceeds from Africa as far north 
as Sweden, Norway, and Iceland, and in the autumn returns again, to 
winter on that continent. In Provence, on the Mediterranean coast of 
Prance, and in Tuscany, it is as regular a bird of passage as in the 
British Islands. In Provence we learn that 44 they appear with the 
quails (but are far less numerous), and frequent the same places. As 
they are much larger, and always appear to conduct them, they have 
received the name of the King of the quails”* In Italy it bears that 
name also ; — Re di quaglie .f My friend, Mr. W. R. Wilde, met with 
the species at Algiers, in December, and was told that it wintered 
there.f 
* Duval- Jouve, in 4 Zoologist, 5 vol. iff. p. 1113. 
f Savi, 4 Ornitologia Toscana, 5 vol. ii. p. 375. 
I A note, contributed by Charles Ensor, Esq., relates to the water-rail, a resident 
species in the British Islands, being taken at sea. He remarks in an accompanying- 
letter : — 44 1 have mentioned the course of the wind, north-east, and although that wind 
was off the land, it was so exceedingly light, that I do not think it could have blown 
the bird away from the land. It did not show any symptoms of exhaustion, but was 
quite lively when captured.” 
The note made on the occasion is as follows : — 44 Lat. 47° N. ; long. 15° W. — At 
sunset this evening (August 3rd, 1836), a water-rail, Rallus aquaticus, flew on deck. 
As I was anxious to ascertain how long it could be kept alive on board, I got the 
carpenter to make a cage for it, and brought it into the cabin. We caught a tunny, 
Scomber thynnus , the day previously, and it soon began to eat small pieces of the 
fish ; it also greedily devoured any flies which came into the cage. We had had light 
winds from the north-east for some days prior to the 3rd of August, and also after- 
wards, which delayed our arrival at Liverpool until the 11th of that month. On ar- 
riving abreast the lighthouse, at the entrance of the Mersey, I brought it on deck to 
let it fly away ; it flew towards the lighthouse for about two hundred yards, and then 
returned to the ship. I landed that evening, and, on returning on board the follow- 
ing morning, was sorry to find that it had been eaten by a cat during the night.’ 5 
