BIRDS IN WAN STEAD PARK. 
93 
its branches were four herons’ nests, eacli guarded by one of the 
old birds, with another heron perched on the very tree-top, 
craning its neck and evidently ill at ease from some cause. 
Overhead were rooks’ nests, some with sitting birds, but none, 
so far as could be seen, with youngsters of any size, and every 
few minutes a wood pigeon would shoot high up into the air and 
descend on quivering pinions to his mate hard by. Presently a 
magpie, which is the very first the writer personally has seen 
near London, came down to wash, and after three or four good 
dips up he went with the characteristic flirt of the tail into the 
thickest of the underwood, making the whole neighbourhood ring 
with his rattling cry. Sitting as motionless as lilies on the still 
waters, but watchful withal, were several mallards and one wild 
duck, with a moorhen busy collecting sticks for his nest, which 
was being built by his mate on a sapling blown down by the 
wind with the top resting on the water. All this with the joyous 
singing of the sk)'lark overhead, the clear whistle of the thrush, 
the alto-flute of the blackbird and the merry lilt of the chaffinch 
went to make up a picture which carried one far from the sordid 
life of the city so near, until the spell was broken by a wander- 
ing party of typical East-enders, and then the singing of the 
birds gave place to a screaming concertina and strident voices 
shouting some popular song. Away went the ducks with a loud 
“quack” into the underwood, quickly followed by the moorhens, 
and ev'en the rooks and the distant herons looked uneasy and 
seemed glad when the Philistines had passed on their way, 
and quiet reigned supreme again. 
Nowhere else near London has the writer ever seen at one 
visit all the common southern members of the crow tribe, 
including the carrion crow, rook, jackdaw, jay and magpie, 
with their near relative the starling. Smaller birds, too, 
abound, and although on this occasion only the pretty little 
chiff-chaff was present, later on the coppices will be full of its 
congeners and melodious with their music. From fields close 
by came the well-known song of the yellow-hammer and the 
less common and curious note of the corn bunting, where a 
fortnight ago fieldfares were busy with other thrushes picking 
up an evening meal. Tits of course were present in full force, 
but then where is there an open space with a tree or two 
where they are not to be found, or at least the more plentiful 
kinds ? Here at Wanstead were the whole five common species, 
with a pair of those delightful little birds, the goldcrest, in 
company, and so tame that they might almost have been 
captured with a butterfly net. It is to be hoped that the day is 
still far distant when the encroachments of bricks and mortar 
shall have scared away the wild bird life from Wanstead Old 
Park. 
W. N. Rushen. 
