126 
G. EOOPEE-NOTES ON B1EDS 
the existence of a dark mark on the upper mandible, the shape and 
colour of a bean, from which it takes its name, and not, as stated 
in many hooks on natural history, from its especial affection for 
beans, which affection it shares in common with its congeners. As 
to either bird being the progenitor of our heavy, waddling, barn¬ 
yard goose, I do not believe it. There are many essential differ¬ 
ences, which in my opinion never could have arisen from domesti¬ 
cation. Several flocks of wild geese were seen to pass over during 
the frost; one flock in particular flew over our heads as we were 
hunting in the neighbourhood of Leavesden. 
The Bittern (Botaurus stellar is ).—The bittern, though now so rare, 
was in my young days comparatively common in the fens of Hunt¬ 
ingdonshire and Cambridgeshire. I have heard my father say that 
he has shot as many as six or eight in a season. The bittern is a 
handsome bird, 24 inches in height; where not extirpated it is 
resident with us throughout the year. Although seldom met with 
in the flesh, a stuffed specimen may be seen in the window of every 
taxidermist, and in a glass case in every collection. Its food 
consists of frogs, mice, fish, and occasionally, I think, snakes. 
Its chief peculiarity is its note—a harsh, booming noise, produced, 
the fen-men say, by the bird thrusting its bill into the bog when 
he makes it. This, of course, is not the case ; but its note, like 
that of the corncrake, being emitted very close to the ground, it is 
difficult to fix the exact spot from whence it proceeds, and its 
wonderful power of creeping rapidly through the sedge and grass 
makes it a hard matter to localise. In shooting it is a very difficult 
bird to put up. It was formerly esteemed a delicacy for the table. 
In Huntingdonshire, from its note, it was called the “ buttlede- 
bump.” One was observed during the frost by Mr. Eobert Barclay, 
of High Leigh, Hoddesdon, who was kind enough to communicate 
the fact to me. 
The voices of birds seem to me to he always in unison with the 
character of their places of resort. The sweet song of the blackbird 
is in unison with its sylvan haunts; the wild cry of the gull blends 
harmoniously with the hoarse murmur of the waves; the scream 
of the eagle harmonises well with the savage scenery around which 
it is heard ; and the booming of the bittern is in unison with the 
dreary, flag-covered swamp wherein it delights to dwell. 
Many instances of albino birds have been mentioned to me. 
Though curious as individuals, they cannot be classed with the 
rare birds which 1 have had the honour and pleasure of intro¬ 
ducing to you. Most albinos, I may say, are young birds. Mrs. 
Panton sent me an account of a white sparrow which she observed 
in her garden, and which was as confiding—I may say as impudent 
—as sparrows generally are. I saw a piebald blackbird in my 
garden, and hastily put him down as that very rare bird, the ring- 
ouzel (Turdus torquatus ); but it was in the winter, and as ring-ouzels 
are only summer visitants, I conclude that it was a pied blackbird. 
It is fifty years since I saw a small flock of ring-ouzels in an orchard 
in Huntingdonshire. 
