BIRD -LIFE IN LONDON. 
103 
BIRD-LIFE IN LONDON. 
N walking about London, it is well to note, when we 
come to any open spaces, what various objects of bird- 
life may be caught by the observing eye. Just as it 
adds to the interest of the often crowded streets to re- 
call their associations in literature and history — to look up, as we 
pass, and say, as noted by tablets in the walls, here was born, or 
here lodged, Byron ; here dwelt Sheridan, or Swift, or Turner ; 
here lived and died the illustrious Handel — so is it of equal, if not 
greater interest, to watch the ever-varying life of the birds. To 
the lover of London, St. James’s Street is a mine of memories, a 
steady source of never-wearying delight ; it recalls to him the 
time when the street was the centre of everything social, and bril- 
liant, and witty, and wicked, in the whole world of London. And 
St. James’s Park is even more interesting still. There, we have 
not only the very spots where King Charles the Easy loved to 
wander, but the descendants of the very ducks which the good- 
humoured king loved to feed. Rochester’s witty epitaph says of 
him, we know, that 
“ Here lies our sovereign Lord the King, 
Whose word no one relies on ; 
Who never said a foolish thing, 
And never did a wise one.” 
To this I would say that he did one wise thing in bequeathing 
to us these ducks — I use the word to designate the whole of the 
feathered swimming-tribe — which have been fed, and petted, and 
loved, by children of all growths, down to this day. The very 
sparrows, too, which will now almost come to eat out of your 
hand, are no doubt lineal descendants of sparrows which have 
been so fed for ages long gone by. 
During the past winter, sea-gulls have been coming in large 
numbers to the lake in the park. In storms I have seen them 
often flying high against the wind, while at other times they have 
been resting quietly on the lake. On January 14th of this year 
the weather was warm ; and as I walked across the park at twelve 
o’clock, I saw a fine flock of sea-gulls near the bridge. About 
February 17 there had been some days of frost, and the lake 
in the park had been frozen over; but on Friday the ice was 
breaking up, and at one o’clock on Saturday only a slender sheet 
was left over about half the lake. On this half a fine flock of 
nearly a hundred sea-gulls was perched, now and then swim- 
ming in the water after pieces of bread that had been thrown 
to the ducks, and seeming quite at home. 
One day in early autumn, a beautiful canary had escaped 
into one of the enclosures, and several gardeners and keepers 
were after it v/ith a cage, vainly, so long as I saw, trying to 
catch the bird. At another time I saw a fine merry magpie, en- 
joying himself, and delighting the visitors, among the trees; and 
