64 
A LAST LOOK, 
HAVE come out here to take a last look at some of my 
winter bird friends before they fly northward ; and 
standing by the gate I can see their light mottled 
breasts conspicuously marked against the dark twigs 
of the hawthorn on which they have settled. A glance through 
the glasses show that only fieldfares are there, some feeding on 
the berries which have survived the winter, some preening their 
feathers with their yellow bill. They have come well through 
the winter, frosts having been short and slight notsvithstanding 
the prophecies founded on the abundance of berries in the 
autumn. Rarely has the earth been too hard to prevent the 
foraging for worms and burrowing insects of which they are so 
fond. They are pretty birds, easily mistaken at a distance for 
their relative the missel-thrush, though at this time of the year 
the “ stormcock ” is generally too intent on housekeeping duties 
to be seen roving about the fields with its more northerly 
nesting friends. For the missel-thrush is an early builder, and 
will be sitting perhaps before the fieldfare starts for the bleak 
tundra of Siberia, or to the long days of the Arctic regions 
where it has its summer home. 
A cart rumbling along the lane below disturbs them, and 
with a chorus of harsh, chattering cries they fly oft across the 
next field and out of sight. As they pass me 1 see again that 
the flock contains none but fieldfares — no redwings — at which 
I am disappointed, for I love to watch these pretty little members 
of the thrush family running spasmodically to and fro in search 
of food, moving their heads shyly upwards as they stop to listen, 
and flying off at the slightest suspicion of danger. Perhaps 
they have already gone north, and will be seen here no more till 
the trees which have not yet begun to bud have passed through 
several shades of green to yellow. It is said the redwing has a 
pretty song, but it is never heard in this country, and as it nests 
principally where human life is scarce, little is known of its 
singing powers. But why should it go to the far north to build 
its nest ? It lives on the same fare as our resident thrushes, and 
they find food in plenty. Building sites and materials are as 
convenient here as in the bleak inhospitable north, yet like many 
other birds, the redwing prefers high latitudes, and though a 
few may linger in the northern parts of our island, they are but 
stragglers, and rarely, if ever, nest there. They seem to retreat 
before the returning warmth of spring, and before the primroses 
have begun to fade they, with most of our winter friends, will 
have passed to the north and east, making way for the more 
numerous summer visitors. 
Our little island is most fortunately placed with regard to 
bird life. It is within the southern limit of many circumpolar 
species, and is the breeding area of many birds which may fairly 
