NATURAL HISTORY NOTES 
73 
Rooks and Sparrows. — Has the reader ever noticed the predatory 
character of the rook? Just recently I observed a couple of these birds watching 
carefully a crowd of noisy chirruping house sparrows, who were quarrelling over 
a crust of bread one of their number had carried from a neighbouring backyard. 
The two sagacious rooks kept hovering, hawk-like, in the air, and then settled on 
a low' hedge hard by the smaller birds. Presently one of the sparrows made off 
from the rest with the coveted prize, and immediately one of the rooks pounced 
down and snatched away the tit-bit, devouring it with evident self-satisfaction. 
I could not understand for some little time what the rooks were hovering about 
after, oblivious of my presence, and the cool ending of this little episode was 
certainly very striking. I observed the same proceeding the next day at precisely 
the same spot. 
St. Albans, Herts. W. Pkrcival Westki.l, ^^.B.O.U. 
February 15, 1901. 
Robins. — There is no doubt that these birds are very pugnacious, and that 
they are born lighters. The legendary cock sparrow who shot cock robin with 
the aid of his bow and arrow would have stood a poor chance of success, I think, 
in a fair stand-up fight, but that by the way. 1 get about the country-side a good 
deal, and am continually amongst the birds, observing them in every detail. 
1 have yet to see a robin v. robin fight, and consider that it is an unfounded idea 
that the young birds fight the old ones during the autumn. Of course we do not 
see anything like every siiie of a bird’s life — indeed of wild life— and wild birds 
injured or sickly frequently resort to' the thickest parts of coppices, woods and the 
like, where they die unnoticed and are speedily devoured by carrion eaters, 
beetles, and other living creatures, which so soon take advantage of a dead bird 
and pick it as clean as a new pin. One often wonders how do wild birds die ? 
St. Albans, Herts. W. Percival Westell, M.B.O.U. 
February 15, 1901. 
The Lark’s Courtship. — With the thermometer at several degrees below 
zero, and a biting north wind, is it not curious that the skylark still delights to 
soar and sing ? If we enquire into the matter, however, and watch the birds 
carefully in their various ways and mannerisms, we find that in February these 
song-flights in all weathers — rain, hail, or snow', storm or sunshine — are 
undertaken to attract and court partners for the coming summertide, and the 
strains uttered, therefore, become love’s old sweet song. A female la,rk is 
upon the ground, not knowing which way to turn as she has so many admirers 
and so many sweethearts ; first one male bird and then another chases her and 
struts proudly before the object of his choice : then one after another these rise in 
the air — the jealous husbands — and endeavour to outvie each other in their sweet 
cadences, for their plumage is not resplendent and they must rely on their 
song. It is all very wonderful, especially so when such an one as the writer 
observes the birds daily, and notes and notices their vastly interesting ways and 
little idiosyncrasies. 
St. Albans, Herts. W. Percival Westell, M.B.O.U. 
February 15, 1901. 
Chifif-ChafF. — Perhaps it may be new to some of the readers of Nature 
Notes to hear that the chiff-chaff is a resident in this part of Cornwall. I do 
not mean, of course, that none of the species migrates, but a fair proportion 
remains here during the winter. On Sunday last (February 10) I had the 
pleasure of seeing some half a dozen chiff-chaffs quite busy catching insects 
of some description on a pool overhung by young sycamores. This pool 
is a favourite haunt of several kinds of birds, such as wagtails (pied and grey 
principally), chiff-chaffs, willow wrens and occasional water rails. The willow 
wren can usually be found here in parties of perhaps a score or more when 
they first arrive, and again when they congregate prior to their autumnal 
migration southwards. Some few years ago I was the witness of a tragedy in 
bird life at this pool. It was winter time, and hard weather, and the starlings 
finding the more open country frost-bound came down to the edges of the pool 
(which, being running water, remained unfrozen), and fancying themselves trans- 
formed by necessity into snipe, probed in the mud for worms. Suddenly a very 
large rat, probably also pressed by hunger, rushed out of a hole in the bank. 
