We have often been amused, on pursuing a brood of young magpies, to perceive how well they can hold their tongues at command of their parents (a useful lesson), so that they will sit quite quiet and hidden among the thick boughs of a tree, whilst we pass under them, though just before they were in full conversation !

The JAY is the last of this tribe*, not so conspicuous as the others, flitting with an inelegant low flight from tree to tree along the hedgerows; his shape is rather clumsy, and his cry very harsh, so as to deserve well the Welsh name given him, "Screamer of the Wood." A few beautiful blue feathers in his wing are sought after. His nest is built in a slovenly manner in some low tree, and his appetite is not very delicate, as he eats grubs, cherries, eggs, or acorns, without scruple. Next to the voice of the peacock we think the jay has the

* "It seems these birds sometimes migrate from other countries. In Suffolk, near the coast, an extraordinary flight of jays was seen passing in a single line from seaward toward the interior. This line extended further than the eye could reach, and must have consisted of some thousands. Several of them were killed as they passed. But the firing did not occasion the rest to deviate from their line of flight."- Lin. Trans.

most dissonant note of the feathered race, scarcely excepting the screech owl.*

The Italians are said to describe the peacock as having the plumage of an angel, the voice of the devil, and the swallow of a thief. As far as the devil and the thief, we would put in a humble claim for the jay.

150

CHAP. V.

WATER BIRDS.

We now venture to turn our view to a society (if we may use that term) of birds, quite different from those last spoken of: we will take a cursory glance at the birds of the sea, and the sea borders. These beautiful beings are exceedingly numerous; and to an admirer of nature dwelling near the ocean, would afford endless subject of remark and amusement. Without descending to particulars, we may observe that these birds may be placed in four general divisions: - the duck tribe, the divers, the gull family, and the waders. Some or other of these are to be found on all our shores, and give a life and animation to marine scenes which no one can describe.

The Duck tribe, which are very numerous, visit us (except a small number of the common wild duck) in the autumn, and leave us in the spring. The wild swan, four kinds of wild

geese*, and no less than twenty smaller species, belong to this tribe. Many are calculated to fly at the rate of above forty miles per hour. In long columns they take their airy way on the approach of winter, and leaving the wild regions of the bleak north, where, amid swamps and forest lakes, they had reared their young, they pour themselves round our shores and estuaries. We shall not particularise their habits, but only observe that their bold flight in long lines, almost approaching to regular order, has a very picturesque effect, and the cry of some of the wild geese on their way in it an echoing clang, well adapted to a gathering note. An ancient author tells us, with great gravity, that the wild geese passing by Mount Taurus, and aware of their propensity to gabble (which betrayed them to their enemies the eagles, found in that vicinity), used to carry each a pebble in their bills, till they were

has

* The Barnacle Goose was formerly seen in such numbers, that it was believed to spring from a sort of shell attached to the sea weeds on some rocks. Old authors give an amusing account of this matter. See Gerard's Herbal.

The van is generally led by an old gander, who every now and then pipes his well-known honk, as if to ask how they come on; and the honk of" all's well" is generally returned by some of the party.

past this dangerous spot. Some of us Some of us might perhaps borrow a useful hint from this fable of old times.

Being generally very good to eat, thousands of the duck tribe are annually taken in decoys, in Lincolnshire and elsewhere, and sent to London; and many more are shot upon our shores. Wild fowl frequent, in great numbers, the low flat shores in Hampshire, opposite the Isle of Wight; and we cannot resist inserting an account of the peril of a wild fowl shooter on that coast:

"Mounted on his mud pattens, he was traversing one of these mudland plains in quest of ducks; and, being only intent on his game, he suddenly found the waters, which had been brought forward with uncommon rapidity by some peculiar circumstance of tide, had made an alarming progress around him. To whatever part he ran, he found himself completely invested by the tide; a thought struck him, as the only hope of safety: he retired to that part which was yet uncovered with water, and, sticking the barrel of his gun (which, for the purpose of shooting wild fowl, was very long) deep into the mud, he resolved to hold fast by it as a support against the waves, and to wait the ebbing of the tide. A common tide, he had reason to believe, would not in that place