and amusing; it has the provincial name of nun, we suppose, from some fancied resemblance of the white broad patches on its cheeks to the plain white head-dress of some religious order, certainly from no similarity in manners to a female devotee: on the contrary, we have often thought its note sounded very like scolding. "It visits the farm yard, and is partial to oats, which it plucks out; and, retiring to a neighbouring bush, fixes the grain between its claws, and hammers with the bill to break the husk."*

This bird is considered the gardener's enemy, from breaking off the buds of fruit trees, when in pursuit of insects or their eggs, which would probably be much more injurious.† It is said the eggs are six or seven in number; but Buffon assures us he has counted seventeen. "The female is tenacious of her nest, and will often suffer herself to be taken rather than quit it; and will frequently return again

* Montagu.

it peeps

A lover of birds remarks, that one item of a late overseer's account in Gloucestershire was, "For seventeen dozen of tomtits' heads;" and, after remarking on this harsh usage, says, into the nail-holes of our walls, which, though closed by the cobweb, will not secrete the spider within; and draws out the chrysalis of the cabbage butterfly from the chinks in the barn.". Journal of a Naturalist.

after being taken out. Upon such an occasion it menaces the invader in a singular manner, hissing like a snake, erecting all its feathers, and uttering a noise like the spitting of a cat; and, if handled, bites severely." *

No bird attacks the owl, in the day-time, with greater fierceness than our blue titmouse; buffeting its venerable adversary, erecting its feathers, screaming for aid, and in every way expressing its impotent rage.+

The MARSH TITMOUSE, known from the colemouse by wanting any white on the wings, is also called the little black-headed tomtit: his black head and grey plumage give him a sort of half-mourning look. This species is by no means uncommon, frequenting old willow trees, in the holes of which it makes its nest. Mr. Montagu says, "We have seen it artfully excavating the decayed part of that tree, carrying the chips in its bill to some distance‡; and

* Montagu.

+ The titmice, and many other birds, may be easily observed, and their habits watched, by placing a little tray, or bird-feeder, in a convenient position, near the window of our sitting-room.

Wilson says the American woodpecker takes the same precaution.

"The carpenter bee carries away the bits of wood in the same way; the instinct of self-preservation thus producing the same effect on the bird and the insect.".

always working downwards, making the bottom, for the reception of the nest, larger than the

entrance."

The COLE, or, properly, COAL Titmouse, is named in French la petite charbonnière, or the little collier, a name well deserved from its sooty aspect, — and differs very little from the last. All the three blackheads have the sawyer's note. One other only of this tribe remains to be noticed, which, from its singular form and interesting habits, merits attention. Our young friends have, perhaps, remarked occasionally a little bird of very slender shape, passing through the air almost like a dart, it is the LONGTAILED TITMOUSE, named from his tail in all languages. Though the smallest of the tribe, and not so common as several of the preceding, he has always attracted notice by the elegance of his shape and the singularity of his nest : no bird has so many provincial names: — bottle tit, bottle tom, feather poke, long-tailed mag, long-tailed pie, long-tailed capon, mum ruffin, huck muck, ragged robin, poke pudding, jack

See Insect Architecture. An amusing writer, after describing a nest so artfully placed on the large branch of an elm, as nearly to resemble the knot of a tree, says "it had a feather fixed so as to overhang the entrance, and form a sort of valve pushed in or out as the birds left or entered the nest." - Jesse's Gleanings in Nat. Hist.

in a bottle. This active little creature is in continual motion; and, when passing from the top of a high tree obliquely downwards to a hedge or shrub, it flits through the air like an unsteady arrow. Its curious oval nest is made on the fork of some branch; differing, in this respect, from all its tribe, who make their nests in holes. This bird's nest is well secured, made of liverwort and white moss, curiously and firmly wove together with wool, covered at the top, with only a small hole at the side, and lined with a prodigious quantity of feathers, the small webs of which are all laid inwards, with the quills or points stuck into the outside fabric. Often the outside is covered with tree and stone lichens, matted together with the silken shrouds of the aurelia of insects: from this thatch the rain trickles off without penetrating it; whilst, from its similarity in appearance to the bark of the branch in which it is most commonly placed, it is not easily to be discovered. Sometimes there are two entrances, that the inmate may avoid the inconvenience of turning with his long tail. It lays from twelve to sixteen eggs, about the size of a pea — less than those of any British bird, except the golden-crested wren.* We have often watched

*See Architecture of Birds, p. 330.

a family of these little fellows; always bustling and encouraging each other by their cries, they appear the happiest of the feathered tribewith apparently few enemies; not dependent on the neighbourhood of men; always occupied, yet dwelling in cheerful society; too small to be coveted for food, yet gay enough to attract notice; possessing the snuggest nest in the world, without being forced to leave annually their native place.

"In the month of July," says Mr. Montagu*, "we observed a brood of these birds, consisting of about twelve, constantly frequent a small plantation to roost, for a long time after they quitted their nest. Just as it became dusk in the evening, they were apparently extremely restless; but by a singular note uttered by one, and as instantaneously repeated by the whole, they assembled in a moment, and huddled so close together on a branch as to appear like a ball of down."

This assemblage, in close contact during the night, is probably common to many of the smaller birds for a long time after they leave their nest; for we have observed the same nocturnal attachment in young birds brought up in confinement.

* Supplement to Ornith. Dict.