34 
NATURE NOTES 
“I first observed this phenomenon in Shropshire, one evening in February, 
1892, and when I mentioned it in school next day I found that several of the 
children knew of it, and said at once that it was a ‘glim ullert ’ (u broad, as in 
‘ full ’). The derivation is obvious, and teachers in other parts of Shropshire 
have told me that their pupils knew both the term and the thing. 
“ A pair of these birds (Stn'x flammed) lived in the buildings at a farm about 
a hundred yards from the school, and I watched them carefully. I saw the 
luminosity several times, but it was not so bright as Sir Digby Pigott’s corre- 
spondent observed, and usually lasted only for a short time, though I could see 
the birds flying about after the luminous gleam had ceased. I never saw both 
birds luminous at the same time, and I am unable to say whether the male or 
female, or both, possessed this power. I went to their lair in the barn several 
times while one was exhibiting its beautiful gleam, thinking to find out which 
of the pair possesssd the attraction, but invariably found both birds absent. 
I have seen both birds leave the barn in the evening, one luminous and the 
other showing no gleam. 
“ I thought the luminosity might be connected with the electrical condition 
of the atmosphere, but though it was usually brightest and lasted longest when 
the electrical potential of the atmosphere was highest, it was not always so. 
It sometimes happened that neither of the owls was luminous when the air was 
highly charged with electricity. Nor did the luminosity appear to be connected 
with the hygrometric state of the air ; it appeared indifferently in moist or 
dry air. 
“ I could observe nothing to indicate that the luminosity was under the 
control of the owl. It appeared to come from its breast and the under-sides of 
its wings and body. It always appeared when the birds were in poor condition, 
and not at other times. I ascertained this by visiting their lair about midday, 
after a luminous exhibition on the previous evening. I visited them so often in 
this way that, after a time, they took very little notice of me. 
“When the owl is flying low, e.g., while searching the hedge-side in 
a country lane, this gleam is not visible ; but as it rises suddenly to go over 
the hedge it exhibits it beautifully, and it is then rather trying to the nerves 
of horses and their drivers. I have often been startled in this way. 
“ I have never seen a heron luminous, though I have been told of it by game- 
keepers, poachers, and others who have seen it. I once thought I perceived it 
in a heron I was watching, as it was fishing in the canal one summer evening, 
but the gleam came from a hedgehog, which was swimming across the canal, 
and was easily explainable — it was reflected light from the bubbles of air clinging 
to its spine and hair.” 
590. A Duel to the Death. — Mr. Stuart Dove’s narrative reminds me of 
various Homeric contests I have witnessed. In an old garden at Boxmoor there 
is a large yew tree, and this is the shelter used by many birds. In stormy 
weather we used to hear “ stormcocks ” singing their hardest from the ample 
shade. One morning, in a path leading from the little lawn on which the yew 
tree grew, I found two young but fully-grown missel-thrushes, both dead, lying 
beak to beak : they had died in mortal combat. My son tells me he has found 
song thrushes dead in this garden ; one dead, and the victor singing his pa;an in 
the neighbourhood of the battlefield, doubtless edifying the mate his prowess had 
secured for him. Recently, in my present house, also at Boxmoor, two sparrows 
— great fighters — fell down a chimney into a bedroom. So engaged in their duel 
were they that the sudden descent passed almost unnoticed. They were, how- 
ever, a little disconcerted by finding themselves in the immediate company of 
humans, and upon the windows being thrown widely open betook themselves 
outside to complete the discussion of their differences. 
January, 1908. Dudley Buxton. 
591. A Coot in Church. — When lighting up my church for Evensong 
yesterday, the clerk was somewhat astonished to see the earliest member of the 
congregation walking up the aisle in the form of a coot [Fnlica atra). He had, 
no doubt, wandered up from the lake (the nearest point of which is about 
half a mile distant), and, I can only suppose, came into the church for “warm- 
