Chirps and 
Chatter. 
(138) THE BIRD WORLD. 
Birds as Weather Prophets. 
Birds are very reliable prophets, for 
there are many that grow restless or de¬ 
pressed before rain. The lowered flight 
of Swallows is a well-known indication 
of rain, for the denser, moister air 
brings the insects closer to the ground, 
and the birds hawk backwards and for¬ 
wards amongst them. The loud voice of 
the Missel Thrush may be heard while 
rain is falling, or during the approach of 
a storm in a high wind. In many parts 
of England the bird is known as the 
“ Stormcock,” and this name has been 
often applied to the Green Woodpecker, 
which in other districts is called the 
“ Rain bird.” These names are more or 
less local, and it is the Golden Plover 
that is officially called Charadrius 
pluvialis, or Rain Plover. Flocks of 
Golden Plover may be seen in August 
leaving the moors and coming to fields 
beside rivers or the sea. Before rain 
they are very restless, wheeling to and 
fro and constantly shifting their 
ground; but when rain begins to fall 
and the sky grows heavy and dull their 
energies seem gone, and they sit 
huddled together, with heads drawn in 
between their shoulders, listless and im¬ 
movable. 
Birds’ Nests “Under Fire.” 
Strange, indeed, are the sites selected 
for their homes by birds, but from Cum¬ 
berland comes the news of remarkable 
nesting-places on the Volunteers’ shoot¬ 
ing-range at Manybanks, near Wigton. 
At the butts, in the front of the sleeper 
and earthwork protection for the 
markers, there were to be seen this 
summer in holes in the woodwork a 
Wren’s nest and a Tit’s, both within a 
foot of the target. There were five 
young birds in the Tit’s nest. In a 
furze bush, two yards in front of the 
butts, was a Yellow-hammer’s nest with 
young in it; and there was a Cushat’s 
nest with two eggs in the hedgerow 
above the targets—“ all under fire,” 
says the history. Surely, this is very 
remarkable. 
The Cunning of the Wren. 
A Wren’s nest is most difficult to 
find, both because of its powers of 
hiding it, and the manner in which the 
bird assimilates the outside of the nest 
to the immediate surroundings. This 
bird possesses another peculiar habit 
which is very misleading unless you 
know its ways well. Whilst Jenny Wren 
is snugly sitting on eggs in her feather- 
lined bag, the male bird employs his 
time in a most remarkable manner. 
Either the cock Wren has the propensi- 
ties of the young married amateur joiner 
—who wakens the baby by driving nails 
into things, and comes to his wife for 
bits of sticking plaster and wet rags at 
unsuitable moments—or the cock Wren 
is a strategist. At any rate, while Jenny 
is engaged as above, her husband starts 
building false nests at various points in 
her neighbourhood. He will often con¬ 
struct as many as three of these—-the 
labour must be tremendous—and he 
finishes them pretty completely, with 
one exception—he draws the line at tear¬ 
ing out feathers to line them with. That 
is how one can tell a false Wren’s nest 
from a real one, even if there are no 
eggs in the latter. It may be his amuse¬ 
ment, but most naturalists credit the 
bird with strategy—as meaning to con¬ 
ceal the whereabouts of the real nest. 
Still, like many strategists, he often 
overdoes it; because you may come on 
one of those false nests, and thus know 
that a real one—the presence of which 
you would not otherwise have suspected 
—is not far off. No, it’s not far off— 
but find it. 
Searching for Nests. 
Keen sight, chance, and a knowledge 
of their habits and probable building 
sites are the three essentials to finding 
the nests of birds. The last-named is 
probably the most important factor. 
Although the nests of many birds are 
conspicuous, a number of such are in¬ 
accessible; whilst in the case of some 
which do not seem much hidden—when 
you chance to come on them—-one may 
notice a certain elusiveness of location 
