Chirps and 
Chatter. 
(96) THE BIRD WORLD. 
N Dt Yet Extinct. 
Of all the once-numerous species of 
wildfowl which nested in the East 
Anglian Fenland, few except the com¬ 
moner and more generally distributed 
remain. It saddens a bird-lover to 
recall the many interesting birds which 
have disappeared during the last genera¬ 
tion. This disappearance is due partly 
to persecution, but more to the changed 
conditions caused by the draining of the 
Fens. Ruffs and Reeves must have 
been very plentiful when our fathers 
were boys, for they could tell of 
large numbers of them brought into 
Cambridge market in great square 
hampers, such as are still used by the 
Fen game and poultry dealers. The 
species is now all but extinct; only 
about half a dozen pairs find a sanctuary 
each nesting season in the Norfolk 
Broads. Snipe, however, still nest in 
considerable numbers; and long may 
they continue to do so, for there is a 
glamour about the Snipe which, to 
naturalist and sportsman alike, makes 
it one of the most fascinating of birds. 
The build of the bird, the mystery of 
the “ bleating ” noise accompanying its 
circling flights in spring, and the beauty 
of its nest of pear-shaped eggs, ever 
form an attraction to all who delight in 
watching wild birds. 
A Strange Occurrence. 
A Crewe naturalist writes of a very 
unusual occurrence. Walking through a 
grass field, he nearly put his foot right 
on an old male Corn-crake, a bird which 
owing to its retiring habits is seldom 
seen, but whose harsh, grating call-note 
is familiar to most people. The bird 
received such a fright that it made very 
little attempt to get away, simply run¬ 
ning round and round in a continuous 
circle, a proceeding which was distinctly 
puzzling to account for, as the normal 
habit of the bird is to make off straight 
through the grass with lowered head. He 
had very little difficulty in catching it. 
This is a most singular occurrence in¬ 
deed. The bare fact of the capture of 
this remarkably elusive bird in this 
manner, is worthy of note. 
The Black Duck. 
Any visitor to the seacoasts of North¬ 
umberland or the adjacent counties s 
about this season is likely to be struck , 
with surprise at the large flocks of 
“ Black Duck,” as the natives call them, | 
or Scoters, which are to be seen on the | 
sea at this time of year. As a rule the i 
sea birds are now collecting in their ; 
nesting-places, either in pairs or in great 
colonies, according to their mode of life, j 
and are not seen scattered generally 
about the coast. The Scoters, however, 
a : re still in large flocks, as if the season j 
were winter. Seebohm, referring to the 
habit of these birds of going in flocks j 
to the mouth of the Petchora, while some 1 
of their kind were nesting, conjectures 
that these packed birds were young of 
the previous year not yet adult enough j 
for nesting. It is almost certainly the 
correct opinion, and is supported by all 
the fowlers on our north-eastern coasts, 
though Seebohm did not seem to be } 
aware that the birds might be found in 
flocks at the nesting time far nearer home ; 
than the locality where he was observing jj 
them. 
In Days of Yore. 
In mediaeval times the very tillers of 
the soil unconsciously possessed the true 
poetic sense. The old provincial names 
were musical compared to those in use [ 
to-day. The Blackbird was the Ouzel I 
or the Merle, a retention of the Norman 
French; the Thrush was the Throstle in 
the Midlands, and the Mavis in East 
Anglia. There was a certain descriptive- ; 
ness in speh names as were given to the ; 
Woodpecker as the “ Laughing Bird ” j 
and the “ Rain Bird ”; but in no way 1 
was the poetry of association more 
marked than in the adoption of saints’ 
names for certain flowers and birds— j 
not aimlessly, but because some manner 
of growth or habit suggested a point of 
resemblance. The constant familiarity 
of the mediaevial mind with St. Peter has 1 
left its mark upon our language. The 1 
St. Peter’s wort of the old herbals was 
a name applied sometimes to the prim¬ 
rose, but more often to the cowslip, 
from its likeness to St. Peter’s badge. 
