Anecdote of the Common Wren. I am at any time glad to have it in my power to record, for the benefit of my brother naturalists, any fact that appears not to have been noticed by others. As the following little incident, pertaining to the habits of one of our most familiar birds, is not mentioned by Selby or Yarrell, I may reasonably presume that it has not been noticed by these distinguished naturalists. Walking the other day in Leven's park, my attention was arrested by the singular movements of a common wren; and being so situated that I had an excellent opportunity of minutely watching its operations, I distinctly observed it to walk over head into the water by the shallow margin of a brook, as if in search of insect food. This action it repeated several times in quick succession, and then, as if it had secured the object of its search, darted off into a neighbouring bush. I will not be so bold as to advance what some have advanced respecting the dipper-that it actually walked at the bottom of the water, for indeed its movements were too rapid to admit of any such subaqueous promenade; but that it was really submerged, and that for three or four times, I take upon myself unhesitatingly to repeat: as, from the position I occupied with respect to the bird, and at only a few yards distance from it, I could not possibly be mistaken. As I cannot suppose this habit is peculiar to the wrens of my neighbourhood, I am in hopes that others of your correspondents may have an opportunity of verifying my assertions. Apropos of these interesting little creatures. I find it stated by Mr. Yarrell in his excellent work on British Ornithology, that "Sir W. Jardine and Mr. Selby, both mention the circumstance of several of these diminutive birds passing the night together, in the same aperture." I beg to state in confirmation of this, that several winters ago, I was tempted to examine a small hole in the side of a moss-covered hermitage, which I had reason to believe was frequented by a colony of wrens: and going thither one evening, when there was a deep snow on the ground, I placed a small hand net over the hole, and actually secured ten or a dozen that had repaired thither for a comfortable night's lodging. Although the little captives were soon afterwards set at liberty, I am not aware that their rest was again disturbed, or that any search was afterwards made for them in the snug little hiding-place they had made for themselves.-S. H. Haslam; Greenside Cottage, Milnthorpe, April 15, 1844.

ken.

Note on the Hoopoe nestling in Surrey. A short time since, while staying in the neighbourhood of Dorking, I was informed by a friend who resides there, that in the summer of 1841, he had some strange eggs brought to him, which had been found in the hollow of a tree in an orchard, and which proved to be the eggs of that very pretty and rare straggler the hoopoe (Upupa Epops). The old birds were not shot, but they have never since been observed to visit the spot from whence their eggs were taBut few instances have, I believe, been known, of hoopoes breeding in this country. Although a year does not pass without a specimen or two visiting Kent, yet I have never been able to hear of a well authenticated instance of their nidification in this county. One cause of their so rarely breeding in England, may probably arise from the fact of their being such peculiar-looking birds as to attract the observation of those who would not otherwise notice them; and they are consequently generally shot or driven away. White mentions a pair which visited his garden, where, to use his own words, "They used to march about in a stately manner, feeding in the walks many times in the day, and seemed disposed to breed in my outlet, but were frightened and persecuted by idle boys, who would never let them be at rest." The hoopoe, which is an African bird, from whence it migrates in the summer into Europe, is by no means

uncommon in the warmer parts of France.

Those that visit our island, are probably

driven here by contrary winds.-J. Pemberton Bartlett; Kingston Rectory, Kent.

Note on the Swallow's course over the Atlantic. On a voyage to New South Wales in 1842, whilst passing the Cape de Verds, their noble peaks being often distinctly seen breaking through the clouds, we observed several swallows about the ship, at times resting, by clinging to the shrouds. And although these interesting wanderers were evidently exhausted by fatigue, and probably by hunger also; they never made towards the land; but continued with us until we were 130 miles to the southward of Fogo. On the 9th of October, in lat. 11° 13′ N., long. 23° 27′ W., one of our companions became so weak that his flight could no longer be maintained: every attention was paid to the weary traveller, but all in vain: after a few hours he expired in my cabin. The fact of these birds not diverging from their course to land within twelve or fifteen miles, is the point to which I would direct attention, in order to ascertain, if possible, the country to which they were migrating. The ship's course was then inclining towards the African coast; the Windward islands were 2000 miles to the westward, and quite out of our track; we therefore concluded the birds were proceeding to the former, as, by continuing the line of direction, they would reach Cape Palmas, at the entrance of the Gulf of Guinea, by a flight of 1025 miles. They had, most probably, departed from America, crossing the Atlantic on a S.E. course, from Halifax to Cape Palmas, the distance being 3800 geographical miles; a very long journey, without one resting place, for the little emigrants, whose progress would be much impeded by the N.E. trade, from crossing the Tropic until their arrival on the sultry shore of Africa.-Henry F. Cliffe; Elm Cottage, Brixton Hill.

Note on the early arrival of the Swallow or Martin. The circumstance of my having seen either a martin or swallow on the 27th of last month, may be worth recording. I was riding past Snaresbrook-pond when I saw it first, and again on my return a few minutes afterwards, so that I could not be mistaken. Mr. Barclay, the banker, was with me, besides several ladies, who all saw it.—Samuel Gurney, jun.; 65, Lombard St., April 15, 1844.

Note on the late occurrence of the Swallow at Goole in December. On the 10th of last December was shot at Goole, in the West Riding of the county of York, a beautiful specimen of the common swallow, an adult bird, and not a young bird of the season, in full plumage and good condition. This bird was sent to me, and I had the pleasure of showing it to many of my ornithological friends.-R. J. Bell, Derby.

Note on the Missel Thrush. The courage and strength of this bird are highly spoken of by naturalists, who assert that that it drives off larger birds from the vicinity of its nest. That it attempts to do so I readily admit, but positively deny that it is invariably or generally successful, since I have repeatedly had the very best opportunity of observing the contrary. In the large trees, usually in a fir, at the front of my native place, a pair of missel thrushes built nearly every year, and it very rarely happened that the nest was not robbed of either eggs or young, perhaps more than once, by crows or magpies, though close to the house; and I have seen a crow sitting in the nest, deliberately devouring its prey, although the thrushes were screaming as near as they dared venture. Nor was I ever able to protect the poor birds, as I would gladly have done, by shooting their enemy.—Arthur Hussey; Rottingdeane, March 23, 1844. Note on the sudden change of Colour in the Plumage of Birds produced by Fright. May not the following facts partly account for the frequency of white varieties of birds and other creatures ? In the Edinburgh Geographical Journal,' Mr. Young states

·

that a cat having frightened a blackbird, the poor songster was found apparently lifeless in its cage, and quite wet with perspiration, [perspiration ?]. Its black feathers soon fell off, and were succeeded by a perfectly white plumage. Sir Robert Heron has related in his journal, that at Mr. Kendal's of Barnsley, a fox pounced upon a black Poland cock, whose screams attracted the servants to his rescue, but not until he was desperately wounded and had lost half his feathers. In time, the remainder of his feathers fell off, and were replaced by an entirely white plumage.—James H. Fennell; London.

Anecdote of a Robin's Nest being built in a Watering-pot. Early in the spring of 1839, before the usual time for birds' pairing, the gardener discovered that a pair of robins had built a nest in an old watering-pot, which had been suspended to the bough of an apple-tree, hanging over the path leading to the tool-house. The hen bird was then actually sitting. The gardener was ordered to conceal the fact, lest the bird should be disturbed by the children going to look at the nest. Unfortunately, one fine sunny morning, little Philip, who had been sowing seeds in his garden, thinking it was necessary to water them, spied the watering-pot, and getting a long stick, succeeded in knocking it down. The nest of course was destroyed: the eggs had fallen out; and it was found on examination that the process of incubation was nearly completed. You may suppose how great was our mortification, and little Phil's distress in having been the innocent cause of this disappointment to our favourite little birds.* Note on the early incubation of the Robin. The following instance of early incubation may perhaps be interesting to the readers of 'The Zoologist.' A robin's nest, containing several eggs, was taken near York a few days ago: there being snow on the ground at the time, and the temperature ranging from 30° to 13o Fahr. - William Murray Tuke: York, February 9, 1844.

Correction of a supposed error in a previous communication, the name of Richard's Pipit apparently occurring instead of that of the Alpine Accentor. I am inclined to think that there is some error in Mr. Jordan's note in the last month's Zoologist (Zool. 494), relative to the capture of Richard's pipit (Anthus Ricardi) at Teignmouth, and that the bird alluded to is a much rarer one as British. My reasons for this conclusion are, that the attention of your correspondent, Mr. Alfred Greenwood, and myself, was attracted in February last to a case of birds containing two blackstarts (Phænicura Tithys) and an alpine accentor (Accentor alpinus), exhibited in the window of Mr. Drew, an ornithologist residing in these towns. We were subsequently informed that these birds had been killed at Teignmouth, and forwarded to Mr. Drew for preservation. Since the appearance of Mr. Jordan's communication, I have seen Drew, and ascertained that the birds were received from that gentleman, who doubtless will be pleased to find himself the possessor of so rare a bird as the alpine accentor. - W. S. Hore; Stoke Devonport, April 8, 1844.

Notes on the Habits of the Wagtail. My acquaintance with your delightful work commenced so recently as Saturday last. The completed volume was placed in my hands by a Reverend relative, not unknown to the ornithological world, an honourable notice of him appearing in the Introduction to British Birds' (ed. 1832) by Bewick, whom he personally knew; two agreeable circumstances that connect me by remote and proximate links with your publication. But to my task! I had been some little time in correspondence with my relative on the strange and interesting habit of the

* Addressed to and communicated by the Rev. J. Atkinson.

wagtail, so frequently referred to, little imagining it had been the theme of a published disquisition, when I had the pleasure of seeing the subject diligently investigated and the enquiry scientifically pursued in 'The Zoologist.' Ample as are the communications, allow me to throw my opinion into the mass, by a narration that shall bear the burthen of its own argument. In the month of April, 1842, my attention was frequently attracted at day-break by the violent fluttering of a small bird at my window; apparently some little creature in distress. On raising the blind, I discovered it to be a pied wagtail (Motacilla alba, Linn.), and I was moved as much by pity as curiosity to lower the sash for its admittance. For some time he declined my invitation; but as our acquaintance increased from day to day, I was tempted to anticipate his visit, and draw up the blind at dawn, which to my surprise served as a signal for its return. In a short time I found that if the bed-room blind continued down and the blind of the dressing-room were raised, the former was relinquished and the latter tried. After a while I lowered the top sashes of both rooms, and opened the door between them, when the elegant little fellow, emboldened by protection, alighted on the nearest sash, swiftly ran along it, and with what appeared to be the pride of confidence, made the room reverberate with his warble, of whose sweetness and variety I had formed no just appreciation. The growth of our familiarity was rapid. He now perched on the corner of the portico and chirped unintermittingly till I came to him, recognized my imitated chirp, perched on the sash the moment my hand was removed, hopped upon the looking-glass or ledge of the dressing-table, thence passed to the other room, pattered with his rapid pace around the bed, and flew out indiscriminately at either window. Having adopted the idea of placing a looking-glass in such an oblique position that as he walked on the floor he might see himself, it was truly amusing to behold his vanity and grotesque gesticulations; but an imagined rival soon brought forth his pugnacious propensities, and a fictitious combat closed the scene. He often recognized

For

me as I walked in front of the house; sometimes descended to the window of the parlour in which my family sat, and drew their notice by his wonted intimation; and although I never found him in my dressing-room, as if he watched the occasion, he always appeared as soon as I entered it. Now comes the interesting climax! several weeks, while I shaved, he sat chirping on my looking-glass, reining his neck, waving his tail, preening his half-raised wing, and eying askance the reflexion of his glossy gorget at his feet. On the nearer approach of my finger, he sidled along the frame with to use a paradoxical expression-a confident timidity, to avoid the touch. During these proceedings his mate would occasionally consort with him on the portico, or sill of the window; but her visits were short and infrequent. In the beginning of June the bird disappeared, and after an interval of several weeks, returned; but whether worried by the servants, whom his freedom with the furniture annoyed, or from decreased encouragement in me, he then took his final departure. During our interviews I gave him a few crumbs of bread, which, although he did not appear anxious about, he did not wholly reject. Last year, at the same season, a pair of male pied wagtails came to my bed-room window, which I again opened, and, as if shy of each other, sat alternately on the top ledge; but from some unknown cause, possibly my want of attention, this was the extent of our intercourse. It is a good rule of moral evidence, that the strength of the testimony should be in proportion to the improbability of the fact. Although I hope it is not requisite, I will add that the fidelity of my representation can be corroborated, not only by my household but by strangers, whose It will presence was complimented by the immediate entrance of my plumed guest.

probably be inferred from my statement, withont any comment of mine, that I do not attribute these pleasing peculiarities to any of the causes assumed by your intelligent correspondents. The violent action of the bird striking the glass, not only with his bill, but with his breast and feet, convinces me he was not in pursuit of flies; nor do I remember observing any in the window. He was not allured nor deluded by his reflexion from the glass, for his visits became more regular when the blind which caused, or at least strengthened, the reflection, was removed. He was not a widowed or a solitary bird, for I repeatedly saw him attended by his mate. What then was the extraordinary impulse to these familiar and fantastic freaks? I think I have read, and, if my recollection serves me, in Goldsmith's Animated Nature,' that these anomalies of instinct not unfrequently occur during incubation; and I well remember having heard, when a boy, a laughable and well authenticated story of a similar propensity in an old gander, during the incubation of his mate, to the society of his owner, a worthy old humourist of my neighbourhood. I see no reason why these influences, whatever they may be (possibly a desire to court the protection of man at a season when the sensibilities are most alive), should not prevail amongst the less as well as amongst the larger orders of the feathered creation; and I confess, that calmly reviewing the singular circumstances I have just related, I find it difficult to trace them to any other source.-James Cornish; Black Hall, February 26, 1844.

Note on a singular habit of the Grey Wagtail. An interesting discussion has taken place in The Zoologist,' respecting the habit of the Motacilla Boarula resorting to windows, (Zool. 136, 230, 358). To me the communication at page 358, seems to contain something like the solution of the mystery. In confirmation of what is there stated, may be cited the popular belief in Berwickshire, that it is illegal to place a looking-glass in a dove-cote (and here the Hon. Daines Barrington might have been gratified in his researches into the imaginary beliefs in statutes that never existed), seeing the pigeon is so conceited of its person, that in a short time the whole cotes of the neighbourhood will be emptied, to the benefit of the one that contains the enticing lure. This, though ridiculous enough, has doubtless some grains of truth mixed up with its absurdity. I recollect, some years ago, an individual of the domestic pigeon, frequenting the window of an upper apartment of a house in the country, where I was accustomed to pass much of my time, and occasionally pecking at the window in the same manner as the wagtail is said to have done, as if it wished something inside. I have no doubt that it saw the reflection of its own image; for before mirrors became plentiful, it was a well known resource of the peasantry on the borders, when they wished to arrange their head-attire, to go to the outside of the window and look in. Does not some writer mention goldfinches as being fond of a mirror? James Hardy; Ellison Terrace, Gateshead, Newcastle, April 26, 1844.

Correction of a supposed error in a previous communication as to the Reed Bunting's not having a black head in winter. In the March number (Zool. 450) Mr. Greenwood states that "the reed bunting is not to be obtained with a black head in winter." Being intimately acquainted with the reed bunting, from its so constantly coming under my notice, and its being so great a pet of mine, I should feel myself doing this bird an injustice, were I to let this opportunity pass without vindicating its cause. Surely then this statement cannot be! The many times this bird has come under my observation, the male bird has never yet been seen by me denuded of its elegant black cap. It was only last Sunday that I saw four of these birds; of the four, two were males, but both had their heads decked in black, though it was not of so beautiful a velvety